I woke up to the news that my friend Craig has died. It was less than a month ago when his sister Teresa, also a dear friend, texted me to tell me that, after some investigation, they were blindsided by the news of a stage 4 cancer diagnosis. Teresa sent regular updates via CaringBridge of their journey through attempted treatment, and ultimately to hospice care to make him as comfortable as possible for his remaining days. I know that journey well and sent them all so much love on the daily.
Craig and I met in 1998–virtually at first on AOL–before deciding to meet for a drink at The Closet on Broadway in Lakeview. I’ve been described as quick-witted, so it was a robust and pleasant surprise to find that I had to work my ass off to keep up with Craig. Dynamic and stylish, but also funny and kind, Craig was a friendship recipe I’d never known before. Thinking of him as I type what I recall most is that I felt very safe and very taken care of when I was with him. He exuded a kind of warmth and presence I’m not sure I’d ever experienced before. We became fast friends, realizing we only lived a few blocks from each other. I loved visiting his apartment and spending time with him and his giant Irish Wolfhound, whose name I think was Chester.
Within a year, Craig moved to Florida to join Teresa, whom I finally met when I visited Miami. I say “finally” because Craig spoke of her often. Their connection was obvious just hearing about her, so it was a treat to see it in person during my visits. She emanated many of the same qualities as her brother, making it feel like being bathed in wit, humor, and kindness.
Craig rescued me several times with his calm demeanor and steady hands. First, he was a highlight on the cross-country trip that Ken and I undertook when we moved to California. We stopped in Boulder, where Craig lived at the time, and he entertained us with his usual panache. Though I was gung-ho to begin this new chapter with Ken, there was something comforting about seeing a trusted friend on this journey to so many unknowns. He was so excited for us and seemingly knew what to say without my having to tell him. We left his house that weekend with great memories, full bellies, and hellish hangovers!
He saved me again in LA, as I naively planned a night out for Ken’s birthday that started at the Saddle Ranch on Sunset and quickly derailed into a chaotic loud mess. I couldn’t handle the throngs of people or the chaos. Craig to the rescue. He was in town, and we’d planned to see him that night, but after hearing my voice (pre-smartphone texting), he invited our little party of 4 to the Standard where he was staying. He’d fished me out of an evening that was hemorrhaging my patience and made it special and effortless as we enjoyed cocktails and appetizers, relaxing in a quieter space. He halted my short-circuit with his usual effortless savoir faire. The evening turned out to be a great success, thanks to Craig who so naturally eased my spirit.
He introduced me to the term redemptive. “Let’s get something redemptive for dinner,” he’d say, or “I hope your weekend was redemptive.” I’ve been using the term ever since. My friendship with Craig was redemptive in its own right, but also because it introduced me to Teresa, who became a close friend once we were both settled back in Chicago. Our evenings at Tiny Lounge and Thanksgivings with her folks, the late great John and the ever-delightful Marlyn, are the stuff of legend. (PS You gotta keep an eye on “Marly” because she’ll never let your wine glass stay empty!)
My friendship with Craig brought so many warm and wonderful people into my life, starting with him. When I awoke early this morning and read the update, I had to get up and try to paint a picture of my feelings with words. My love goes out to Craig–who will never truly be gone–and Teresa and Marly, and all those who loved him and held him dear.
He was special.
He was redemptive.
