I lost an RVing friend yesterday. Actually, he was more of an acquaintance since I only interacted with him socially about half a dozen times at the most. However, in the nomadic community, every kindred spirit is automatically a friend, so I tend to think of him that way.

I was not impressed when I first met Radio Mike at a Monday Night Potluck at the RV ranch in Deming. I was new to the scene, he was a relative old-timer. He came up to me and told me that  I looked like a young Aunt Bee (Andy Griffith Show). I was not sure what he was projecting onto me, but I was sure I didn’t want Aunt Bee. Word to the wise guys: when you meet an aging woman it is okay to tell her that she reminds you of a younger Meryl Streep or even Cindy Crawford but never a matronly midwestern frump.

Still, I came to admire Radio Mike the more I talked to him or heard from others about his exploits. He was one of those creative genius’ who dropped out long ago and lived an exceptionally free-spirited existence in a classy, vintage Airstream. Radio Mike was a nomadic artist who did the desert circuit during all but the hottest months. He started in Deming in the fall and then moved on to Quartzsite and Slab City then back to Deming for a short time. I don’t know how often he went but I have seen pictures of him at least one Burning Man Festival and have read that he attended Starwood events in Ohio (new age, clothing optional gatherings). Did I say free-spirit? He was a free spirit’s free spirit. Even committed free spirits like myself lived in awe of his adventures.  I am sure many of us thought about letting go just a bit more, like Radio Mike. I don’t know if I could get away with the pirate costume that he loved, but he always made me want to look less predictable.

I don’t really know much about his life, only that Radio Mike was a musician as well as a visual artist. I know he played drums for several other musicians and that he got his nickname because he was often the DJ at nomadic events and parties. Yes, from what I can tell, Mike was the life of the party, wherever he went. There was always a ripple of excitement when word passed through the RV ranch that Radio Mike had pulled in.

I last saw Radio Mike this past August in New Mexico. After deciding to relocate my home base to Washington State, I had driven back to Deming to pick up my RV and van. I was surprised to see his rig there. August in Deming? There was no reason to be there if you could avoid it. I was also surprised that he was not at the social events. Tango and I walked by his spot every morning, and I never saw him outside or moving around inside the Airstream.  These were red flags, but It is an unspoken rule that you don’t poke around at someone else’s place, especially if they are just an acquaintance. If they want to talk they will come out. Nomads are careful about their physical boundaries.

I really wanted to say hi, though. Despite our dubious start, I liked Radio Mike. I decided to leave an offering on the chair outside his door, hoping that would lure him out. I had been cleaning out craft supplies and had a nice box of assorted beads. None were as nice as the beads he used in his jewelry, but it was, nevertheless, a nice batch that I was collecting but never using. The next morning, while walking my dog, I left the box. He heard me outside and said, hi there, let’s talk sometime. Period. So, out of respect for his space and privacy, I kept walking. Yes, I was worried. I stayed an entire month sorting, cleaning, and preparing for my move despite the horrid heat. And, I never heard from Radio Mike again.

A few months later, I heard from a mutual friend that Radio Mike had been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer that August when I saw him. In the meantime, he had tied up loose ends as best he could, signed over his RV and truck to friends, and returned to Long Island to spend his remaining days with family (turns out that was only Oct-April of this year). Mike had impressed this mutual friend with his upbeat, no-regrets attitude about death. He told me that Mike inspired him to put some pep back in his own step, to embrace living a bit more than he had been lately.

Last week when I was talking to yet another mutual friend about a sewing project, I asked about Radio Mike.  I was informed that he was in hospice since December, and we surmised that Mike was probably in the last stretch. Sigh. Then, news spread on various Facebook communities yesterday that  Radio Mike was gone. His nephew posted Mike’s farewell words to us and, all day yesterday and into today, his friends made comments on Mikes FB page. It was touching and comforting.

I have seen many people die and have ministered to hundreds of families during the aftermath, so I am somewhat thick-skinned about death and dying.  This death hit me hard.  Radio Mike was only 3 years older than me. Losing someone your own age is always a cup of cold water in the face.

I thought the most about the role of Facebook in all this. Most of us heard about the loss on Facebook. Then, Mike’s final words were posted. Then, FB became the place where we spoke about Mike’s life and grieved together. That in turn, cause me to wonder about FB chatter about my own death, hopefully way down the road. The Facebook era has brought a new way of communicating about a person’s death and is a new way to grieve together.

I have never thought about leaving a final message for the world, but what a creative idea.  He wrote to us about the necessity of trying times and sorrow, which he pointed out would lead us to experiences of joy (a coincidence that he paraphrased the Easter Message to us and it was posted on Good Friday?). What great lesson would I share with the world? I promised to write it down for my son to post later. Something about being brave. I am a survivor and a fighter, overcoming so many things. I have also been rather daring, moving around and seeking new experiences and adventures. My relationships have been disasters so I found peace decades ago around being a single person. I like to think in my waning years that I am a free spirit, evidenced by my nomadic lifestyle and by my solo, tent camping trip in Alaska last summer. I want others to know that anyone can do these things. I would also urge people not to be so judgemental of others, especially those who choose alternative lifestyles. What would you say?

And, what will others say after we are gone? I was struck by the volume of comments and the consistency in the tributes left on Radio Mike’s FB page. He was a free-spirit, lived life to the fullest, creative, fun-loving, caring  People talked about the influence he had on their lives. Mike had so many friends and touched so many people. I will remember him every time I see an Airstream and whenever I need a nudge to do something a bit daring. Oh yeah, and every time I see a Andy Griffith rerun. 

Rest in peace, Radio Mike. You are free.