Karlos the Jackal ([info]karlosthejackal) wrote,
@ 2008-01-10 04:00:00
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Michael Griffen
For those of you who remember WeeHuggum, I wanted to let you know that Michael Griffen passed away on Monday. He was at home and, from reports, it was as peaceful as these things ever are.

Michael was more than WeeHuggum's fiddle player; he also hosted the band at his house for many months before he was even a part of the band. Before WeeHuggum existed, he also hosted my previous band, Bingo Riot (which also included his daughter Aral), who never got as far as playing a gig but recorded a 4-track tape recorded by Michael's son Adam. I learned to play drums while in Bingo Riot, a process which was almost certainly not totally delightful to Michael, but he always offered nothing but support, while never trying to tell me "how to do it right."

He was a huge influence on my musical development, and although I often feel that I've squandered most of what I gained, there's a core there that still resonates. Without Michael, there's an excellent chance that I never would have played any music at all.

Edit: more here



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[info]cithra
2008-01-10 03:00 pm UTC (link)
I'm sorry to hear that.

I remember Michael well even though we never really interacted; he was a huge support to the music scene up there. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, he was always 'the older guy' at shows, and now I'm older myself... but that doesn't change anything. He will be missed.

(Reply to this)

I'm sorry to hear that
[info]mcjulie
2008-01-10 04:17 pm UTC (link)
I will always remember him very fondly.

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bless his ghost.
[info]beetimevine
2008-01-12 02:09 pm UTC (link)
Wow, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell him how much I appreciated him. I'll always remember sitting around the woodstove in his kitchen absorbing the conversations around the room about music or literature. The kitchen had a massive table which was always covered with books, zines, band fliers, records, photographs, highschool essays, probably grocery lists too. Things from the previous week, the previous year, or years ago. The walls were decorated with musical instruments, some of his paintings, drawings made decades ago, spider webs. Somehow he radiated intellectual glee and warmth. Ideas were his playground, be they philosophy or punk rock. He loved to talk, and he also loved to listen to other people talk.
I'll also always remember picking blackberries in the jungle behind his house. Or his pipe smoke. And he was about as gracious and welcoming as a dad could have been toward his daughter's first boyfriend.
I remember during the winter he'd often reach his bare hand into the woodstove, which was rusting through in a couple spots, and shift the wood around, or add a piece. Then he'd put the lid back on the stove, and re-light his pipe, or continue the conversation. One time I tried to imitate it -- I reached in to move a piece of wood, and immediately burned my hand.

If any members of his family happen to read this, I just want to say that I'll always be grateful for the kindness and warmth he showed me.

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Re: bless his ghost.
[info]mystery_woman
2008-01-14 07:40 am UTC (link)
I remember meeting him once with you. He was on his way to make cider at Cloud Mountain, I believe. His obituary in the newspaper notes that he was 71, so rather a young whippersnapper. But what a blessing to pass on at his own home, to be so widely admired in his community, and have so obviously left the world a better place.

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Re: bless his ghost.
[info]arallara
2008-01-14 10:17 pm UTC (link)
Hi you. Thanks for this. It's been making me feel so, so good to hear the ways people remember him. :)

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gathering thoughts
(Anonymous)
2008-01-14 08:48 pm UTC (link)
we're gathering thoughts at

http://wordisafourletter.wordpress.com/

aloha,
-adam

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[info]arallara
2008-01-14 10:15 pm UTC (link)
Hey, Karl, thanks for this. Adam linked it at a memorial blog we put together for Dad--hope that's okay.

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(Anonymous)
2008-01-20 04:35 am UTC (link)
High school was a difficult time for me; I never felt at home in my own house. But I always felt comfortable at Michael's house. I suppose it was because he always welcomed and never judged. I got to know him a little more a few years later when I had moved back in with my parents (in the mobile home park across the highway on Cedarville Road). I would drop by occasionally and talk about school or books. A couple of times we talked about hockey. He never seemed to mind when I showed up at his house.

The first thing that comes to mind when I remember Michael is not a specific memory, but rather the coalescence of every time I saw him exuberantly tear the broken horsehairs from his bow between songs. The second thing is a time that we had just returned to the kitchen after warming up with Muted Torby; he sat in his chair at the head of the table, lit his pipe, smiled, and said “We were tight.”

Peace and peace and peace,

Gregory Cook

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[info]karlosthejackal
2008-01-22 09:09 am UTC (link)
Oh well hi, Greg. Long time.

If you check back and see this, drop me a line.

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