Eulogy for Friend :: Eulogies Eulogy

Eulogy for consortYesterday, as Martins friends poured into town, I was struck by how many distinct sets of friends he had. Family, gliders, punks, his swampland posse, his boys and his girls, Professors, colleagues, Ann Arbor friends, Chicago friends, net friends whod never met him in the flesh... laborious to walk down the path with him was an exercise in frustration, as Martins fans flocked to him bid the Pied Piper. He was so much, to so many. One of his greatest gifts to us is each other. I rally the first time I cut Marty 12 years ago. You couldnt missy him, of course. It was Computer Science 101, a dress down hall with hundreds of students. He would skate into class 20 minutes late, project his skateboard up onto his desk, weaken open a chocolate draw and begin to drink... 200 look on him. Martin would turn around and s lots us a small-scale wave. The thing was, and it *clearly* pissed saturnine the Professors, he routinely s malld the highest tag in the clas s on any assignment. Immediately I express to myself, I need to know this guy... So I cornered him and announced, You and I are going to be friends... Martin looked me up and down and said, Uh....No thanks... And so it began. Martin, in those days especially, had an approach to people that was at best challenging, & at worst confrontational. Those who didnt get Martin brushed him stumble as a clown, provided to those who watched, and listened, it was clear there was something extremely wakeless going on. Martin had an uncanny qualification to see into people, to look through you, to gleam your own insecurities and hangups back at you, until you had no choice left exclusively to drop them... and dance with him. Martin called your abrupt every time... Despite his best efforts to the contrary, at last we did become friends. I precisely refused to let him go, or to let him charge up me away... I knew in my core that if being Martins friend required change, wholesome then Id change. He was expenditure it... Martin was a hacker in the square(a) MIT tradition. As a teenager, and Marty didnt often brag about this, he reengineered some communication software into what became the de facto example for software pirates around the world. In those days he was known by his handle, the Redheaded Freak.Eulogy for Friend Eulogies EulogyEulogy for FriendYesterday, as Martins friends poured into town, I was struck by how many distinct sets of friends he had. Family, skaters, punks, his Swampland posse, his boys and his girls, Professors, colleagues, Ann Arbor friends, Chicago friends, cyberspace friends whod never met him in the flesh... Trying to walk down the street with him was an exercise in frustration, as Martins fans flocked to him like the Pied Piper. He was so much, to so many. One of his greatest gifts to us is each other. I remember the first time I saw Marty 12 years ago. You couldnt miss him, of course. It was Computer Science 101, a lecture hall with hundreds of students. He would skate into class 20 minutes late, flip his skateboard up onto his desk, crack open a chocolate milk and begin to drink... 200 eyes on him. Martin would turn around and give us a little wave. The thing was, and it *clearly* pissed off the Professors, he routinely scored the highest marks in the class on every assignment. Immediately I said to myself, I need to know this guy... So I cornered him and announced, You and I are going to be friends... Martin looked me up and down and said, Uh....No thanks... And so it began. Martin, in those days especially, had an approach to people that was at best challenging, & at worst confrontational. Those who didnt get Martin brushed him off as a clown, but to those who watched, and listened, it was clear there was something extremely profound going on. Martin had an uncanny ability to see into people, to look through you, to reflect your own insecurities and hangups back at you, until you had no choice left but to drop them... and dance with him. Martin called your bluff every time... Despite his best efforts to the contrary, eventually we did become friends. I simply refused to let him go, or to let him push me away... I knew in my core that if being Martins friend required change, well then Id change. He was worth it... Martin was a hacker in the true MIT tradition. As a teenager, and Marty didnt often brag about this, he reengineered some communication software into what became the de facto standard for software pirates around the world. In those days he was known by his handle, the Redheaded Freak.