A friend worth remembering

By Joey Cooper 

They say the key to being of political caliber is strict talent when it comes to remembering people's names. Connecting the names with the faces, the faces with the causes or organization, and then being able to recall that data weeks, months, and even years later.

While this capacity is especially prevalent with those running for office, many folks cater this same ability in other fields. Pastors, police officers, news media, salesmen. In practically any profession or social community, the ability to remember the name of a person you hardly know is invaluable. Suddenly, instead of just being acquainted with a handful of people, you are able to take virtually every person you've ever met and make them a friend.

I, for one, am not exceptionally well trained at this process of name remembering. In this business, a reporter/ad sales chap runs across hundreds and hundreds of business individuals and readers over the course of a year. Yes, I make the best effort to keep all those encounters with people filed away in my brain, but I can never make myself any guarantees. If I haven't talked to a person at least two times, it is usually hard for me to recall them months later. That is why I am tremendously impressed when people I talk to remember me from long-ago meetings, and remember my name.

One such gentleman was Rodney Lain.

I only corresponded with him briefly and met him just one time in person.

But that first (and final) time I met Rodney, he remembered who I was. It had been nearly a year since he had received an email from me, and he had only seen my headshot on a now-defunct online column. But he remembered me, my writing, and what I had written him.

I was impressed.

You see, Rodney Lain was always a half-hearted hero of mine. Before I became a designer here at The Middletown News, I spent much of my time writing about computers for various online enterprises. In fact, over the course of 1996 to 2000, I wrote for a national print magazine, a small self-published newsletter, three major online websites, and a variety of smaller endeavors. This was all on the hobby level, if you discount a 6-month period in which my brother and I made a serious jab at selling online advertisements for 12 websites with a combined monthly visitor level of 450,000. While tending to all these publishing adventures, I became quite well acquainted with the writings and technique of Rodney Lain.

Rodney, the same as I, was a hobby-writer-turned-entrepreneur. He found that writing about Macintosh computers for various online websites and magazines could be a way of making money. Besides, in each and every story published with a Rodney Lain byline, a reader could feel that the writer truly enjoyed putting together each sentence of the piece.

His rants and raves were not simple news stories about the latest technology trends. In fact, a philosophical side came out in almost every piece. Rodney would analyze events with a sharp mind that caught not just the obvious computer-related questions, but also the cultural. It could be said he was more a student of life than a student of computers. Sure, each editorial began with a connection to iMacs and Apple Stores, but they almost always contained scraps on life, culture, racism, and philosophy.

By day, Mr. Lain worked for a "Fortune 100 Company as an IT professional," as he always phrased it. Minnesota was his home. In addition, he worked at high-end mall computer retail outlets about half the weekends a month. Many of his article ideas came from this part time job. Seemingly, he delighted in both helping folks with computers and finding how diverse the new Internet-enabled population is.

It was at a computer convention in San Francisco, California, two years ago that I spotted Rodney. As my brother, Andy, and I made our way through the massive conference complex, rushing past crowds of computer-nuts checking out each booth in the show, I knew Rodney right away. In a move I will never fully understand, I implored Andy to take a minute to go say hi to this writer I knew.

I approached him and Rodney immediately recognized me. He looked impressively handsome, with beeper and cell phone on, laptop bag in tow. Sharply dressed, with an almost movie-star appearance. He blended in with many of the company executives at the expo. Other than the fact that he was black.

He asked how we were enjoying the conference, whether we knew about a certain party, and what we thought of a new gadget recently announced that day by a big-time company. After a bit of chitchat, something about meeting his wife, Rodney obviously needed to get going. Before we shook hands, I uncomfortably expressed how much I enjoyed his writings in various online publications. In fact, I mentioned I always tried to write my own articles as I thought he might tackle a subject. He said he appreciated my remarks and was in awe because he never envisioned inspiring anyone.

Unbeknownst to all his online friends, Rodney apparently battled a life-long war with depression. An emptiness that drove him from controversy to controversy, from one major debate to the next. Many of my friends who knew Rodney so much more personally had no idea he had an inner battle that ate him up inside for so many years. It never seemed to show in his writing, or his personal correspondence. A man who could tackle literally every subject on the face of the planet, it seemed impossible to think he felt so uneasy living life.

Three weeks ago, without notice, I received an email from an online former rival of mine from Michigan. Rodney Lain had passed away over the weekend in the hospital. After a day in intensive care, he succumbed. It was a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.

One online friend described the reaction to this news as a punch to the stomach. How could a successful man like Rodney, someone with fans of his writing all over the planet, a wife, a good job, and plans in the works for a radio show, suddenly come to the conclusion that life isn't worth living?

Not a person I've talked to or an article I've read can begin to answer that question.

Maybe the question can't be answered. Maybe it can.

But maybe we are not the ones who have to answer that question. Rodney always pondered everything; most philosophical subjects were not clear-cut for him. He liked to debate, to see what ideas would pop up out of his and others' minds. Most of the time, conclusions were not Rodney's specialty. It was the joy of talking and deliberating, not the deduction, that Rodney took pleasure in. While I like more closure in topics I discuss, I can't help but be awed with all that Rodney tackled over the three years I read his columns.

He inspired much of my writing style, he kept his readers on their toes from week to week, and he was never afraid of any fight. Except maybe his final fight. But from the day I first met him, to the day I die, I will never forget that Rodney Lain remembered my name. Little details like that change entire lives.

-Joey Cooper is Design Editor of The Middletown News, Indiana's best weekly newspaper.

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