michael

[code monkey]

this was written recently by kc ball

Clarion West 2013 began this past weekend. It got me thinking about Mike.

Early morning. first Saturday. Clarion West 2010. I was among the first to arrive and drew door duty, helping arrivals deal with the house’s combination lock.

The weather was glorious, the sort of June Seattle day that makes you glad to live in the Pacific Northwest. I had the door propped open and sat just inside.

Beyond the back fence I heard car doors slamming, heard voices, male and female. The gate opened. Two young women and an older man came through, all dragging luggage. I took the older man for a father, come to help his daughter settle in.

And I figured it was time for a bit of fun.

“What is your name?” I demanded, in my best English accent.

The two women stared at me, wondering, I suppose, who this crazy woman was. But the older man drew his shoulders back and snapped to attention.

“Sir Lancelot,” he said.

I was expecting the women to be fellow Monty Python fans, not the older man. Even so, I plowed on.

“What is your quest?”

He grinned. “I seek the Holy Grail.”

Okay. I threw out another line.

“What is the average air-speed of a swallow?”

“African or European?” he demanded.

That began my thirty-month friendship with Mike Alexander, my fellow geezer of the 2010 class.

Actually, friendship doesn’t come close to describing the bond Mike and I formed. We discovered we had had the same sort of adventures, growing up. Both of us were old school, addicted to the same authors. Not only had we read the same books, but we had had the same dreams of someday writing science fiction.

But life had gotten in the way for both of us.

Jobs. Marriages. Family. Even so, neither of us had ever given up the dream. Now, in our mid-sixties, the time had come. Afternoons, after the critique sessions, we sat and talked about our philosophies of story. We dissected plots, discussed character development; even began to talk about a collaboration.

It was a manna that sustained us through a grueling six weeks. Mike liked to tell people he was my younger brother (six months) from another mother. I’d smile and nod. I liked the notion of a brother who shared my passion for reading and writing science fiction and fantasy.

Life is full of complications, though. Mike had cancer, and although it was managed, it hadn’t gone away. Even so, life went on. We finished Clarion West and went back to the real world. He lived in Oregon, two hundred miles away, and neither of us survived travel the way we used to, but we found ways to stay in touch

Telephone. E-mail. Skype. We told each other awful jokes, critiqued each other’s work – and began to make plans for that collaboration.

Over the months, then years, I met Mike’s wife, Sheila; Mike and Sheila met my partner, Rachael. We hung together at conventions – Rustycon, Norwescon, and Orycon. Went to dinner now and then.

And the collaboration grew. It would be set on the Moon in the late 1970s. An alternate world where the United States hadn’t given up on space. The notion grew, turned into a trilogy of novellas that we planned to pull together into a novel, after all three had been published.

The first story became a murder mystery, set in work colony that supported the construction of a Mars-bound vehicle being built in lunar orbit. We weathered setbacks. He fought the thing growing inside him and I dealt with coronary problems.
But paragraph by paragraph, the story grew, and then, at eighteen thousand plus words, The Moon Belongs to Everyone was finished. I told Mike it was a winner, that Stan Schmidt at Analog was sure to buy it, that it would be a cover story.

Mike humored me. “You can’t know that,” he said.

In mid-March 2012, we sent it off to Stan. He replied a day later. “I just saw The Moon Belongs to Everyone in my in-basket and look forward to reading it.”

Two months later, this arrived. “I’m buying The Moon Belongs to Everyone. Expect the December 2012 issue.”

We received our author copies of the magazine in late September 2012. Our names were on the cover, top billing, and The Moon Belongs to Everyone was lead-off story with gorgeous two-page art.

“How did you know that?” Mike asked me, via telephone.

“I just had a feeling,” I replied.

We celebrated together in early November 2012 at Orycon 34 in Portland. Mike and I jabbered all weekend about the second novella, Pie in the Sky, which we had started. Rachael had to work that weekend, but Sheila looked on, smiling and knitting the whole time.

Less than a month later, December third, Sheila called. “Mike’s not doing well,” she said.

I had another of those feelings. “I’ll be there soon as I can,” I said.

Six hours later, I arrived in Oregon. Mike grinned when I walked in. We talked for a couple hours, Me, Mike and Sheila, and some friends of theirs. Then Mike grew tired, and the friends left.

I sat up with Mike most of the night, while Sheila grabbed some much needed sleep.

And I was there, with the two of them, next morning when he died.

Mike Alexander was the kindest, gentlest man I ever knew. He was generous and funny and saw the best in everyone. And he fought one hell of a battle against that bastard, cancer.

It’s been six months. I miss my friend so very much. I miss our chats. I miss the jokes, and I miss the stories we’ll never write.

Most of all, I miss my brother.

[pumpkinpi]

Thank you for sharing this.

[gethen]

What pumpkinpi said. That was lovely.

[cid]

I've always been a bit reticent to jump into heavyweight discussions on this board, partly because I was not that confident in my debating abilities, partly because I never thought I was...intellectual, shall we say...enough to participate in such activities, and partly because I was not that confident, period. So I kinda limited myself to lightweight and/or humorous contributions.

I was told, though, that Mike saw through my persona, and realized things about me that I had not even known or admitted to myself.

Now that it's too late, I kinda wish I'd gotten to know him better. Maybe knowing him would have helped me know myself.

KC, I'm a bit jealous of you...

Go back to work...there's a novella waiting to be written...

[Swift]

Thanks cm

[Cyborg Girl]

Thanks, cm. I wish I'd gotten to know Mike better... He was an amazing person.

[FZR1KG]

And there I go crying again.
That was a great story.
I remember when Mike was asking for advice here on FWIS regarding weapons fired on the Moon.
It never registered till now that this was the story it was for.

Loved the part about Sir Lancelot.
That's just so Mike.

[Loresinger]

You might someday consider trying to write

let his voice that I know you still hear when you think of conversations guide you. I believe that our loved ones stay close in some form to watch and guide - to this day I have talks with my dad now dead over 22 years and can still hear his replies (ok maybe that's dementia but it helps).

[Thumper]

Trying to be happy that there are people this good in the world, and that I was lucky enough to meet him.
But I'm sad.

[Sigma_Orionis]

Damn, do I miss Mike.

[FZR1KG]

We all do.
I'm glad Grapes is doing XOF.
It reminds me of Mike everytime I see a post there.

[Sigma_Orionis]

Yes it does

[grapes]

Thanks. I used to post there once in a blue moon, mostly just read and learned*. I learned a lot, had a lot more to learn.

* and laughed

[FZR1KG]

Mike had me in stitches many times.
I still have fond memories when I managed to once return the favour, in the science forum of all things.
Post headline, "Possible cure for mad cow disease"
Still hope for Margaret Thatcher.

Obviously way before she'd died.

He claimed he spat coffee over his monitor.
My one proud moment at getting him back! LOL

[grapes]

Happy birthday Mike

[code monkey]

thank you for remembering, grapes.

i'm drinking the bottle of wine we'd gotten for our last anniversary and remembering. i'd wanted to read his posts but couldn't find the site where the old forum was stored so i've been reading things he'd written and things he'd read to me.

friday was elliot's birthday. i drank coke and read a book he'd given me to read. i'd picked out one for him(a cherie priest) and we were going to read them over thanksgiving break and talk about them.

last week i attended a talk at elliot's college that is part of a series supported, in part, by the fund we established in his name. elliot's advisor told me that he and his wife were expecting their first child. due date 4dec. the day michael died. somehow i didn't bat an eye. just wished them well.

i miss them.

[SciFiFisher]

Sometimes it's hard not to hate the way the world works.

[Cyborg Girl]

*hugs*

[code monkey]

Sometimes it's hard not to hate the way the world works.

i just don't understand it. children aren't supposed to die before their parents. he'd hit his stride, he was doing so well. he was going places. he would have done so much good. i remember my mother, standing at my father's grave and saying, 'there are so many bums walking around. what are you doing here?'

[Sigma_Orionis]

My sympathies Mr. Mono....

[brite]

Sometimes it's hard not to hate the way the world works.

i just don't understand it. children aren't supposed to die before their parents. he'd hit his stride, he was doing so well. he was going places. he would have done so much good. as my mother said, standing at my father's grave, 'there are so many bums walking aroung. what are you doig here?'

I feel quite the same way about Sean... Though, Sean hadn't even had a chance at potential...

[code monkey]

Sometimes it's hard not to hate the way the world works.

i just don't understand it. children aren't supposed to die before their parents. he'd hit his stride, he was doing so well. he was going places. he would have done so much good. as my mother said, standing at my father's grave, 'there are so many bums walking aroung. what are you doig here?'

I feel quite the same way about Sean... Though, Sean hadn't even had a chance at potential...

oh brite, it all reeks, doesn't it? no, i'm not going to say that i don't know which is worse. one can't weigh, measure or count grief. we both have broken hearts. i'm so very sorry.

[code monkey]

thank you gj & sigma.

[brite]

Sometimes it's hard not to hate the way the world works.

i just don't understand it. children aren't supposed to die before their parents. he'd hit his stride, he was doing so well. he was going places. he would have done so much good. as my mother said, standing at my father's grave, 'there are so many bums walking aroung. what are you doig here?'

I feel quite the same way about Sean... Though, Sean hadn't even had a chance at potential...

oh brite, it all reeks, doesn't it? no, i'm not going to say that i don't know which is worse. one can't weigh, measure or count grief. we both have broken hearts. i'm so very sorry.

It DOES reek. Sean was just starting to show what kind of personality she was going to have... (wicked!) She peed through Mom's skirt, slip and pantyhose... and LAUGHED! She thought it was funny as hell, the little shit. And three weeks later... she was... gone.

But I look back at all the good she DID do, in her passing... there are two young people who see, because they got her corneas, someone who got her liver, and two more who got her heart valves.

So while I mourned the passing of that white hot spirit, that streaked through my life.... she lives on... just not directly in my life. THAT'S the part that reeks.

[grapes]

i'd wanted to read his posts but couldn't find the site where the old forum was stored

Are the forum posts available somewhere online? I didn't know...