Max was one of the first people to try out an old Polaroid land camera that I bought at a garage sale for $2. He took this photo of me when I came into work one Saturday in 1998.
I used to call Max on his birthday every year; Max lived up in New England, and we saw each other infrequently...but we did keep in touch once or twice a year, and I always looked forward to calling him on his birthday, just to say hi for a few minutes at least.
I hadn't worked with Max for several years now...and haven't seen him in person since 2001. But the friendship remained strong. While Max could get easily excited/stressed about things at times...there's one major thing that he never seemed stressed about: that he almost died on 9/11/2001. Max had tickets on one of the four flights that were hijacked that day...one from Boston to L.A. ...but Max switched flights at the last minute after some meeting details couldn't be worked out before his trip, so he decided to fly out earlier. If it wasn't for that...Max wouldn't have been here until now. But, just as suddenly...he's now gone.
The last time I saw Max, October 6, 2001, when I got to stay over at his place during a trip to Boston.
Max, I miss ya, buddy. You were a great friend, and someone I always looked up to and admired (not that you would have felt that was appropriate). I hope you are in a better place, and that your family and friends are taking your loss well.