Ms. Anne Thrope closed the shop for her annual spring vacation, a holdover she said from the days when her father would close his business for the entire month after Christmas. I’ve told her that this is not a very contemporary approach to business, but she pays the staff full-salary during the closure and we still get vacation time.
This morning I walked back to the club because we’re open again. The place doesn’t feel the same because of the death of our friend, a drummer and artist named Kamajian. Ub some places he referred to himself as Kamajinator. We didn’t know his age. We didn’t know his first name. “Age is a number, and history is so last year,” he said. We only knew the one name he used. Conversations with him were refreshing and stimulating. We enjoyed his drumming at local clubs. He would come to the club, linger over his coffee, and work at his computer until one of his friends showed up for conversation. A beautiful soul he was.
Years ago I saw a cover illustration he did for a Batman comic book. I also saw some of his scientific art. We kidded him about the old Saab he drove, which he said he wanted to redesign to look like the Batmobile.
And then he died, and we found out his first name and his age and other details of his life that he never felt necessary to disclose.
We miss him.
May Kamajian rest in Love eternal.