An Obit - Love ya, Buddy

I lost a good buddy recently. Not a close, current buddy, but a friend from some time ago that meant a lot to me.  

When I graduated high school and went to West Point, I was a Richmond, Indiana kid. That was my deal. From my perspective, I came from a great place, had a great family and a great group of friends - I was a Hoosier and there was nothing better in my mind. 

Then I got up to West Point, constantly surrounded by people...great people. But, you are kind of alone in your own head for a bit of time. I assume it was like this for other people. I missed friends, places and things and I just swallowed that stuff hole and did what I was told to do. 

I think, if you don't eventually get emotionally connected in that environment, you probably bubble out and go back to whatever and wherever you were before. That's OK.

At the end of that first year, I somehow got connected with Robert Garbarino from Westchester County, New York and got invited to a weekend at his house. That connection ended up resulting in me getting accepted into another family. Rob, who was nicknamed "Vinny" by the upperclassmen, became one of my best friends and was later the best man at my wedding. 

Vinny was super cool to me and we hung out a ton over the next three years. His mom, brothers and sister, treated me like family. There was a constant flow of us cadets rolling through their house. I felt like they really liked me and accepted me. To me, they were my family in New York...weekends, dinners, hugs. 

Vinny sent me a text a few weeks ago in the middle of a workday - "Can you talk?" That never happens. Clearly this was an important conversation. His older brother Mike had passed. Mike was only 53.

October 1993 in New Rochelle, New York; John Buergler, Damon Becknell (back), Mike Garbarino, and a Hoosier. Believe that is Damon raising Mike's hand like he just won a championship.

Mike was such a great dude. He was not perfect. He was eccentric. He probably undercut his potential (as most of us do), but he maximized his opportunity to be a good dude and certainly did that in his interactions with me.

On those weekends away from West Point at the Garbarino's house, the only way I could sleep was by staying up wildly late, shout-laughing for hours and finally bringing my body to an empty point. But then, I would awaken after just a few hours of sleep. 

Mike, more often than not, would stay home and not go out with us. He would be awake when I got up and most of my friends were sleeping off the "great" time. Mike and I would get some coffee going and start chopping up all the stuff in the fridge that would go well with two dozen eggs in a pan.

Also, October 1993, New Rochelle, New York. (L-R) Mike Garbarino, Dave Phillips (back), a poor unfortunate lady getting smashed by some sweaty dorks.

The conversation was just so easy. There was no work involved. It was so much fun to hang out and talk with him and laugh like crazy just because it was a Saturday morning and there was a lot of fun ahead of us in the next 24 hours.

Peeling it back to that initial conversation with Vinny, he asked if I could check on his mom. She lives within an hour of the HOTPO headquarters. Mrs. G or Momma G, depending on your preference, is not without friends or family to help. Yet, I was honored Vinny asked me to be a part of that support network. I couldn't wait to see her even though it was not in the best circumstances.

I told the my wife, "I need to drive out there and hug Mrs. G and drink a couple beers in Mike's honor."

Seeing Mrs. G was great, if there can be such of an assessment under those circumstances, but it was. It was like cooking with Mike on a Saturday morning in 1993, easy, natural, fun...like old times. This Virginia-living Hoosier was hanging with part of his New York family, again.

Mrs. G and I in Northern Virginia, recently.

Look. I got it. The majority of this nation is not mourning the passing of a middle-aged white cis-male. Understood.

Another very, very close West Point classmate of mine lost his father recently. I also just passed a particular date that is an anniversary of a tragic day in my life that included the death of some great soldiers. And, our country is evenly divided, vociferously, over multiple topics. Got it. 

I never write this blog anymore because I think spending excessive energy writing about sports for no financial gain in the light of our current circumstances could be perceived as tone deaf. 

I write this blog today, to tell everyone I possibly can, that I loved Mike Garbarino. He was a great dude. He treated me like a brother.

When I got home from my visit with Mrs. G, I told my wife, "He made me laugh. He laughed at my dumb stuff. Do we live for anything more than that?"

She just gave me a hug.  

1993, Front: Damon Becknell, me, John Buergler; back: my man - Mike Garbarino.