Note from Steve Carey

I remember Ben on the back porch on Martha’s Vineyard the summer that we first met, drinking beer and talking endlessly about music, movies, books, life.

I remember Ben at his grandfather's picnic table, cracking crab shells and laughing.

I remember Ben in Dublin and in Oxford, learning about the world together.

I remember Ben in his room, arguing with me passionately in defense of postmodernism, Blade Runner, postpunk, and other things that were fun to disagree about.

I remember Ben on my futon in New York, patiently and endlessly giving his ear and advice on small problems that once seemed so big.

I remember Ben at our shared annual birthday party at the Scratcher, invariably the highlight of my year and some of the best nights I ever had.

I remember Ben on countless nights, countless days, long ago that I now miss more acutely than I could have known at the time.

I’ll keep remembering Ben, his kindness and his generosity, his smile and his humor, his curiosity and his limitless mind, his importance to my life and my growing up, and his positive and immeasurable impact on so many others.

Goodbye, friend.

— Steve Carey