5 September 2006
Tom
46 is way too young to say goodbye. That's how old my great friend Tom Rogers was this past sunday when he died. I'm still pretty stunned, which I suppose is the normal reaction when something like this happens.
How to describe a friend in a way that will mean something to those who did not know him? I could say that he had a big heart, that he was honest to a degree that sometimes hurt him - he could not understand how people could lie to him or mistreat him, since he didn't have those qualities himself. But of course others did, and he often seemed if not surprised then disappointed in the behaviour of some people he had to deal with, particularly at work. I could say that he was one of the few true friends I've met in my entire working life. Not a 'work friend', but a real friend, and those are rare.
Tom and I became friends when we both worked together for HRDC - we met in 1998 and hit it off immediately. He was an A/V guru who ran an incredible video lab and recording studio by himself, built up over the years piece by piece and meticulously updated, upgraded and cared for by Tom. The studio was his baby, and I was lucky enough to spend a lot of time hanging out there with him while we were co-workers. He and I and fellow web-guy Stuart were a great team, and we christened ourselves the Monkey Men after someone confided in us that our evil boss considered us nothing more than 'trained monkeys'.
B and I spent many weekends at his and girlfriend (later wife) Karen's cottage in Haliburton, skiing, waterskiing, hiking, golfing, swimming or just generally goofing around. One time Tom and I went for a midnight walk on the frozen lake, and for some reason I brought along a few of the dog biscuits he and Karen always kept handy for the neighbour's collie, Tango. Once we got out onto the ice, we realized we were being followed at a safe distance by a fox. I threw one of the dog biscuits towards it, and it pounced on it right away. Hungry. It tailed us for the rest of our walk, and ate every biscuit I had with me. Another time we sat on his dock in late summer, watching the clouds drift by overhead and listening to a pack of coyotes howl in the distance. It's moments like that that bring friends together in ways that can't be explained. Tom also loved his jet boat and would take great delight in tearing around the lake doing donuts and wake-jumping (you can't flip those things, they skim across the water like surfboards). I have a bunch of photos of terrified windblown passengers hanging on for dear life, and a few more of Tom grinning like a fool behind the wheel.
One winter B and I spent the weekend skiing with Tom and Karen, and it was such fun Tom and I decided we would do it again the following weekend, but the women did not want to go again so it was just Tom and me. We got up there to find out the ski hill was closed for the season, in spite of a ton of great snow. So we just hung out for the weekend, drinking beer, hiking, driving around and having a good time. The photo below is from that weekend.
Each August was the Dash for Kash (as in Lake Kashawigamog) 10K run, which Karen and Tom's sister Ginny and I would compete in. Tom was no runner, but he loved the event anyway since there was always a huge barbecue at the Wigamog Inn after the race, and a major sponsor was Kawartha Lakes Brewery. Did we drink a lot of beer after the race? Oh yeah. One of my favourite races of all time, that one.
Tom and Karen got married in Haliburton, at the Wigamog Inn, and it was one of the best weddings I've ever been to. Casual dress, outside, near the beach on a warm September afternoon. You just knew that they were dizzy with joy at getting married, and that everyone there felt pretty much the same way.
I left HRDC in 2000 with some sadness, not for the job or the workplace but because I knew I was leaving a good friend behind. We still saw each other but not nearly as much - and over the years it seemed to get harder to get together, altough we did manage to see the Tragically Hip (twice), Neil Young, Yes and Peter Gabriel. We also went to New York City in December of 2001 as part of a large 'Canada Loves New York' contingent. That was a fantastic trip - freakishly warm weather for December and a weekend spent prowling the city, attending the George Harrison memorial in Central Park's Strawberry Fields (he died the day we arrived, and a spontaneous gathering happened that night), a fabulous meal in Little Italy, midnight on top of the Empire State Building, and of course a trip to Ground Zero. I thought I knew what grieving meant after seeing that.
Tom's younger brother Greg was tragically killed in 1999, and each year there was a memorial hockey tournament to raise money for a scholarship fund in Greg's name. Tom was devastated by Greg's death, but I knew he was so proud of how his friends all came together to create the scholarship fund and I was honoured to be part of that, even in such a small way.
I wish we had seen more of each other. We talked on the phone and sent email pretty often, but it just seemed hard to meet up as much as we wanted to, and I hate that now. My advice; if you care for someone but can't seem to find the time to be with them, you should make the time. Just make the time. You'll be glad you did. It's too easy to lose touch with friends & family, we always think we have more important things that need to be done first. We don't.
