About getting weepy, Joe was a bundle of contradictions. He was almost obnoxiously against - well, at some points not "almost" - displays of sentiment in some connections, as he was with his illness. But he was a deeply sentimental character himself and one moved by displays of sentiment and tenderness toward others.
Let me tell you about his reaction to his diagnosis, three years ago, as it manifested itself in relation to his friends and relatives, and while he was as yet in the grip of the fear that he would die imminently so soon after his father and leave his family and many others in the lurch. His approach was in the first instance to protect his wife and kids from as much as he could and to make practical arrangements as quickly as he could. That was the cocooning, mother-bear Joe. But he took a deeply pessimistic and self-indulgent hard line with everyone else, at the surface. He quickly formed a set of rules about what people should and should not say about the illness, he did not want to have to endure the emotions others might have, and he referred close friends and relatives to a blog post when they expressed curious concern. And some of his relatives came in for serious and public - and richly deserved - abuse.
At the same time, he patiently interviewed a long stream of friends who came to see him at his office. When I heard the news, Carolyn and I came to New York as quickly as we could. Joe had already seen some locals at the office and had developed a routine of taking people to his "conference room" in the stairwell of the building. This allowed his officemates to avoid the repetitious explanations and emotional reactions and let them get on with work. So once we had our hugs and greetings with Kevin and Denyse and Sheila, out we went to the stairwell.
Joe gave us his rigid, schematic summary of his coming doom, referred me to his blog post for detail, as he had on the phone, he deflected any effort to engage on a normal level, and he noted that while I suffered with years of degradation and mystery, he at least had certainty that he would not linger and drain his family of resources. Hearing Joe go on in this mechanical and borderline narcissistic way didn't surprise me, since we had already had the awful phone call, but to get this news this way, from Joe, my comrade, had me feeling I was talking to one of his theoretical constructs rather than to the person I knew.
I squirted tears, a lot of them, at first slowly, about the time he referred to his blog post to answer a question he did not consider there, and then in torrents as he chided me for making his news into something about me rather than him by crying. I asked, when the subject of his doctors came up, what the next step was in dealing with the cancer. He said "there is no next step", and I said as gently as I could that I understood, but that the doctor didn't just turn him away to go die, there must be at least some palliative things they had in mind.
He just repeated himself, quivering, suggesting that I thought I knew better than his doctors how to proceed. Game over. I just said, through my snot, I've been sick a long time, I'm weak and broken down, I know how these things work, I have watched others die, and I care. I ask because I care, I came here sick myself because I care, I ask because you mean so much to me, certainly not because I want to match wits and to untangle your latest dogma ("what's wrong with dogma?"), but to connect with the person I love.
Major sentiment. Within a minute or so we were joking about our illnesses and communicating as normally as could be expected, and I stopped crying. Joe wound up living three more often beautiful years, at times seeming, but for a bum leg that had been the prime clue as to the presence of his tumor, well recovered.
Joe was an amazingly lucky man who got screwed on the longevity front. But he wasn't easily categorized on very many issues.
Sorry for rambling a bit, but I'm very tired.
Oh, and it meant a great deal to Joe that I reconnect with my community online, particularly in the form we now reconvene here on the new site. It was one of his projects to protect the people close to him. He knew very well I had tumbled into isolation and he knew I suffered from that condition and he nudged me repeatedly to get back online, to the point that he typed in my board user information and password to get me started while we were on the phone.
Well, all those years ago it was me who prodded him to get out of the house to meet his winegeek fan base. Small as it was back then. I brought him to offlines and people didn't know the wines. But that changed, didn't it?
So I thought it was appropriate for me to come out early, here, with this horrid development. Thank you all for being there. I value you patients more deeply than I can say, and I for one do not mind the sentimentality involved in human contact.