Michael was my friend. He was that most rare of all friends, a good, true friend. I don’t know if I can put my finger on all that his friendship meant to me.
I can say that he was always there when I needed him. When some new pest appeared in the greenhouse, when I wondered if I had enough people power to re-skin a greenhouse, when I couldn’t for the life of me solve that Sudoku puzzle, Michael would be there.
I can say that he was always ready to talk about anything that interested me. It seemed, in fact, that almost everything was of interest to him.
I can certainly say that he was industrious and inventive. We often had lunch together at Wendy’s, and he usually had a new idea, be it a new soil formulation or a way to trap solar energy in his greenhouse.
He loved literature of all sorts, from poems to novels. He shared some of the poems that he wrote with me. Many expressed the deep love and respect that he had for the earth and the life process involved in growing plants and gardening.
And then there was the sailing: warm, summer days out on Penobscot Bay in his boat, Flora. Sometimes he brought his ukelele and he would play and sing as the afternoon drifted by.
You see, he had many sides but always just one face. He was always true to the principles he believed in. I feel privileged to have known him and to have called him friend. I will miss him.