New! Monthly Column Debbi is the owner of Mack Research and Writing, providing articles, reports, case studies, white papers and otherwise assisting businesses and organizations with communications needs. She has also done research for legal and reference publishers and attorneys. A select list of clients and writing samples are available here. Debbi is also a mystery author, whose published work includes a novel, Identity Crisis, a hardboiled mystery featuring lawyer/sleuth Stephanie Ann "Sam" McRae, and a short story in Chesapeake Crimes I, an anthology written and edited by members of the Chesapeake Chapter of Sisters in Crime. Submitted for Your Consideration February 2009 My Friend is Dying My friend is dying. As I write these words, the idea doesn't seem quite real to me. Yet, a few days ago, it hit me with tsunami-like force. A premonition of grief to come. My friend is dying. Someone I've known for more than 35 years. Someone whose presence has for so long been a given -- like the air I breathe or the sun rising in the morning. Someone whose absence will rip a huge hole in my life. Cancer is the culprit, in this case. Eating away at my friend from the inside. Heroic steps were taken -- steps that made my friend's life a living hell. Despite these measures, the cancer prevailed. Despite winning a few rounds, my friend is going to lose this fight. My friend has always marched to the beat of his own drummer. When I first moved to Maryland from California, I had no friends -- and offers of friendship were hard to come by. Maryland seemed cold and unfriendly, compared with the small towns in California's Central Valley where I'd spent the previous three years. It didn't help that I was the "new kid" in high school, and I fit into none of the cliques. My friend and I (who, I should state for the record, have always had a platonic relationship) shared the bond of being hopeless outsiders. When I relocated to Pittsburgh the following year, my friend was the one person who cared enough to stay in touch, calling every two or three months. And when I moved back to California for a year while I was in college, my friend came out to visit. He was a sounding board for my fears and frustrations at the time. A good listener. A good person. My friend's goodness hasn't only been directed toward me, but to others, as well. Giving a car to a hard-working Chinese restaurateur who couldn't afford one. Maintaining his friendship with and support for a drug-addicted woman he'd known since high school, who ultimately suffered her own bitter end. My friend is dying -- and, when they made him, they definitely broke the mold. He's unique in every respect. A computer geek, a genealogist and a musician, my friend has all the right qualities for these endeavors. But don't try to pigeonhole him -- he'll just find a way to defy your expectations. Among other things, he knows sign language. He studied bagpipes for a time (drawing furtive, curious glances from other commuter train passengers as he silently fingered a practice chanter on his way to work). I even recall him professing some knowledge about NASCAR, of all things. And, you'd probably never guess by looking at him, but he's an avid dancer. My friend encouraged me to read all the "wrong" authors (like Hunter Thompson and G. Legman) and listen to all the "wrong" music (like PDQ Bach and Frank Zappa). We even sang Handel's "Messiah" together a few times at the Kennedy Center. The last time we did was maybe three Christmases ago. I didn't realize then it would be the last time. Death will render me the sole custodian of our years of shared memories. No longer will I be able to reminisce about attending my first rock concert with him (The Youngbloods, if you can believe that). Going to see The Who (with Keith Moon on drums). The time we saw Hunter Thompson at the University of Maryland (probably around the time he made this appearance on Letterman). The many times I guarded the tape recorder at the coffee shops where my friend's band performed, in (at that time) a seedy part of DC. The many times we had pizza at a place near my friend's childhood home. Idle summer afternoons, sitting at the picnic table in my friend's parents' yard. I recall, one particular such afternoon, watching his father deconstruct a carburetor into a pile of tiny parts and painstakingly put them back together again. Explaining as he did how they worked. (My friend and all his siblings -- including his sister -- have each, under their father's guidance, taken an entire car engine apart and reassembled it again.) Catching movies at The Silver Theatre, in its final days as a single, large-screen movie house, before it closed and was later reborn as The AFI Silver Theatre. The time my friend taught me the lead guitar line for "I Can See for Miles" -— back in my “musician phase,” when I had notions about starting an all-girl hard rock band (pretty cutting-edge stuff, for the mid- to late-70s). My friend is dying -- and my life is flashing before my eyes. Isn't that what's supposed to happen to the dying person? (For all I know, perhaps it is.) Intelligent, well-read, studious, painstaking—these all describe my friend. Independent, infuriating, profane, irreverent -- these traits, too, could apply. Stoic, methodical, uncompromising, hard-working -- yes, he has many fine attributes. But above all, most importantly, my friend has been honest, loyal and (in a way that belies his sometimes inscrutable demeanor) caring. What more could one want from a friend? It is hard to imagine a future without my friend. When an individual with such unique qualities passes away, it seems the world suffers an irreparable loss. So I imagine it after my friend is gone. My friend is dying. All I can do is wait for the inevitable. And use the precious time that's left to appreciate him while I can. Because there has been and will be no other like him. A true friend. A fellow iconoclast. A generous spirit. A real human being. January 2009: Spontaneous Combustion December 2008: Support Your Local Bookseller November 2008: In Tough Times, Think Marketing 101 October 2008: First Times September 2008: A Trip to Aqaba August 2008: Little Lies (Or How Weeds and The Sopranos Are Really the Same Show) July 2008: Having the Last Word on Words June 2008: Opportunity Knocks (Even When it Knocks You Down) May 2008: Zen and the Art of Spring Cleaning April 2008: A Virtual Crowd March 2008: Four Great Reasons to Hire a Freelance Writer February 2008: Beyond the Bend January 2008: Green Thoughts December 2007: What Goes Around Comes Around November 2007: Bitten by the Bug