Tomorrow marks the second anniversary of MeZine founder, Rick Crawford’s, sudden death. In memoriam, I’m going to keep this thread open all weekend. It’s a tough anniversary, not just for his family, but for all his many friends as well. This is your space to remember him through stories, jokes, poetry, rage, joy or tears.

COMMENTS

2007-06-22 06:59:27

Bob wrote:  It’s hard not to smile when I think of Rick, and then my heart pounds and I take a deep breath. I miss him.

I have many dreams about Rick and playing with Slycee Jenkins. Usually, in these dreams, I have forgotten my drum set or we’re playing songs that I’ve never heard of before - weird.

I’m still in disbelief.

2007-06-22 08:40:44

B wrote:  Sounds like a version of the dream where you have to take a test and you never went to the class.

Every so often something happens and I just want to share it with Rick, ‘cuz he’d so get it.

Nice that you got my title reference.

2007-06-23 14:08:10

EOC wrote:  I miss Rick more than words can convey. It is a bottomless pit of awfulness.

2007-06-23 14:14:19

EOC wrote:  OK, here are some words. They are not mine. They are lyrics.

Sometimes I feel so happy
Sometimes I feel so sad
Sometimes I feel just about everything
Lately I’m just feeling bad
Lately I’m just feeling bad

Linger on your pale blue eyes

I thought of you as my mountain top
I thought of you as my peak
I thought of you as just about everything
I had but couldn’t keep
I had but couldn’t keep

2007-06-23 14:17:15

EOC wrote:  And der, more words, not mine. More lyrics (I know this is very junior high mix tape)

wish I was a fisherman
tumblin’ on the seas
far away from dry land
and it’s bitter memories
castin’ out my sweet line
with abandonment and love
no ceiling bearin’ down on me
save the starry sky above
with light in my head
with you in my arms…
i wish i was the brakeman
on a hurtlin fevered train
crashin head long into the heartland
like a cannon in the rain
with the feelin of the sleepers
and the burnin of the coal
countin the towns flashin by
and a night that’s full of soul
with light in my head
with you in my arms…

And I know I will be loosened
from the bonds that hold me fast
and the chains all around me
will fall away at last
and on that grand and fateful day
I will take thee in my hand
I will ride on a train
I will be the fisherman
With light in my head
You in my arms…

Light in my head
You in my arms…

Light in my head
You…

With light in my head
You in my arms…

2007-06-23 16:16:35

Amy wrote:  i think about him every day. sometimes i remember the fun times and sometimes i remember the fights we had. i hate when i remember the fights. i want to take all the stupid stuff back or aplogize or anything. sometimes i’ll hear a cover that slycee did and i’ll break down blubbering.  i gave birth to my fist son the day of his funeral. needless to say, it will be a day i will never forget. i just plain miss him. b, i’m so glad you are continuing this website. it is really great to be able to reminisce about rick. eoc, my thoughts are with you and your beautiful girl.

2007-06-24 17:05:46

B wrote:  I remember some of my fights with Rick, too.  They make me laugh now, though, because they were SO stupid.  One in particular always stands out… we were all living at home for a summer, I think I had just graduated from college.  Pete and Rick decided to have a party, as they ALWAYS did when my parents were away.  But, they also always left the house trashed and I had to clean up after them in the morning while they slept until noon.  So, I finally had enough and I made them PROMISE to clean up after them before bed.

Well, surprise.  The next morning the place was still trashed. So I stormed upstairs in a rage and flew open Rick’s bedroom door.  Unfortunately, the door was lighter (and I was stronger) than I thought and it slammed into the wall, smashing the mirror on the other side into a thousand pieces.  I was fully intent on screaming at Rick to clean downstairs, but then there was this long beat of silence as Rick, hair mussed from sleep, and I stared at the shattered mirror.  Then, after a beat, I launched into my prepared yelling like I was not an insane person who just broke a full length mirror in a fit of rage.

They did actually clean up after themselves.  Two hours later.  So busting the mirror didn’t even work to my advantage.

In the interest of full disclosure I should add that this was my SECOND rage-related mirror breaking.  I once threw a small hand mirror at Pete.  And a clog.  And an empty plastic pitcher.

2007-06-26 08:27:17

Steve wrote:  That picture brings back a lot of great memories.  Sometimes it’s the little things in life that we remember the most.  Like sitting on bar stools with great friends and talking until last call.  We did that a lot.  I miss those nights and I miss doing them with Rick.