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Mom

Bruce Meservey 1951 - 2010

Monday, Apr. 04, 2011 - 3:13 a.m.

In a few days, I'm going to be forty-six years old.

A few nights ago, there was a reminder of my mortality that really hit home.

For more than a decade, John and I had been friends with a fellow named Bruce Meservey. Bruce was from Massachusetts, never lost his pahk the cahh in Havahd Yaahd accent, and was one of the few people we knew who had actually attended Woodstock. He had shown us his copy of the Woodstock edition of Rolling Stone, which had listed an incorrect play order for one of the days. Bruce had corrected it in the margin with a pen. Bruce was left of center, but argued his points rationally, and was one of the only people we knew in the 2000s who was still a genuine hippie. We adored him.

Bruce quit calling people awhile back, and when his name came up in conversation the other night, I went for a dig online to see if he had a web presence that we'd overlooked.

And I fucking found his obituary.

Now, for those of you who have regularly attended San Diego ComicCon or WonderCon up in San Francisco, you've seen this guy. He always worked at the SuperWorld Comics booth. If you would like to see some pictures of him, and read a wonderful writeup about him, here it is.

At the risk of looking like a shill, his prodigious comic collection is up for sale, and the proceeds will be going to provide supplies for art students.

Bruce was only fifty-nine when he died. My memories of him will include the two Keane concerts he attended with us, getting to see the Gary Oldman episode of Greg The Bunny because he'd followed it to it to the ratings graveyard that was Sunday night before 8 pm and taped it, and most of all, his visit on September 13th, 2001, when we all had beer and pizza and kept the damned TV off. At that time, John and Bruce both worked for a company that had lost 300 people from the events of September 11th, and the visit was absolutely essential therapy that helped us all cope with the rest of that year.

He was a big ol sweetie pie of a man, and a real good guy. Emphasis on the word 'real'.

I *hate* shit like this. Growing old sucks.

But it beats the alternative.

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That's it. See you next time.

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