How to begin… Well, this morning my Lady came in and right after I sat down at my computer, and leaned over and put her hand on my leg and said, “I have to tell you something…” The look on her face was very telling that something was wrong.

She told me that my friend Steve’s son had called, and last night Steve went into the bathroom at home, put a gun to his head, and took his own life. All of a sudden I was just numb. I didn’t know what to say or think.

I met him in the early 90s, at the Portland Waterfront Blues Festival. I was managing what was then called the Main Stage at the South end of the festival, and we got the majority of the larger national acts.

As usual, the crew from the local cable access channel were there, recording the event. Steve had built a nice little recording studio on a trailer frame, and he parked it backstage to record the audio. We worked together for many years and established a friendship beyond the festival.

We worked side-by-side at The Space Studios, where he helped me build the audio/video control island, and helped with running sound on several shows so I didn’t have to do sound and video switching by myself. There were many things that needed to be done there that I was unable to do all by myself, but Stevie was there to cover my 6.

Three days later… I have been numb the last few days, trying to figure out what made him snap, and I am coming up with no answers. I keep coming back to the wish that he had called me first. I am sure, very sure, I could have talked him out of it, but that is now a case of moot 20-20- hindsight.

All I can say at this point is that if you know me, and you know how to get ahold of me, and should ever reach the point you want to end it all, then call me, come see me, whatever. After all, death is a great rush, but please, save it for last.

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