Mike Hardy and I had something in common at Service High School, aside from rolling with the same group of friends: We both rarely had dates to dances. Why was that the case? Who knows! It was always a mystery to me, but I’ll leave the answer to others! Regardless, it was painfully true, and so we’d often roll to dances together — or at least be in the same group of guys who also didn’t have dates. It made us more than friends. It meant that we were companions on a very awkward and specific journey, surviving those weird high school years together. He was a good companion. He took so little seriously, most of all himself. That’s not to say that he wasn’t competitive or driven: He was an awesome basketball player, getting the most out of his 6’4” gangly frame and he was a really good student. But what he excelled at was friendship. He didn’t take life too seriously; he could laugh at any situation or circumstance, and if he happened to be in the middle of it, he would laugh especially hard. He found the absurdity in everything, which is easy to do later in life but hard to do as a teenager. I hope he retained that spirit until the end. We kept in touch a little after high school but not after college. I always hoped that he’d be at a reunion but he never was. I was as shocked and gutted as everyone to see that he died unexpectedly. It just hurts: He’s someone whose friendship not only added to my life, but helped my life, during those tricky years. You grow from that time, learn to laugh at it, shake your head at it, but you never forget what it felt like. Thank you Mike, for being a good friend to me and so many others at a time when we needed one. RIP.