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I have just spent the evening watching 10-year-old videotapes of myself, Brian
Carver, Nate Packer, and Mika Marumaya fencing in tournaments in Utah - a
century ago.
Other familiar faces were there: John Daley, Mike Mercy, Matt Nikols, Clief...
whose last name I can't remember. And Max Callao.
I've just found out that Max passed away a while back, and in that one moment,
I somehow lost a connection with that time - that feeling that it all happened
just so recently. Max was in his 50s when I knew him, but I dare you to find a
single human being more youthful and alive than he was.
To the family of Max and to Salle Boise, your loss is deeply - if from afar -
felt. I was just moments ago watching video of he and I joking around on strip
and working our asses off for every inch of strip and every point made. For me
his loss was just a moment ago and I heartwrenchingly regret not having tried
to look him up before now.
I tell stories of Max to everyone who hears about fencing from me - which is
just about everyone. While the rest of you are still here, I wanted to say
that everyone mentioned in this post, and Chris Oversby, Katrina Farrow, you
were all gemstone quality souls to me and there isn't one of you that I don't
think of and miss regularly.
I remember Max telling a story of drinking too much Courvousier on a flight to
Japan. I don't have any Cognac, but tonight I'm drinking to Max: a friend, a
teacher, blessed lunatic, and an explosion of character wrapped in a thick
application of Ben Gay.
-rbarry
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