In Memory of Marc Lamparello

Marc was one of my closest friends, ever since we went to the same high school, then to the same college. I hadn’t seen much of him after I moved to Japan, but he was on the very short list of people I always caught up with whenever I was back in town.

The memories I have of Marc consist of some of the most random moments.

I still recall the time, place and the name of a Jonny Depp movie we saw together in high school, and how we stayed in the parking lot for hours after the movie, talking through the middle of the night.

I also vividly remember that it was him I was on the phone with when I spilled water on my beloved Mac and literally watched it go up in smoke.

But above all, I’ll never forget an on-going joke between us in college. Whenever we got together, he would offer to pay me to become his personal assistant, as if he, a run-of-the-mill college student, was important enough to have administrative needs, and I, who could barely keep it together myself, was in a position to take care of needs of another.

I suppose closest friendships are defined by a culmination of such innocuous moments.

Marc was a thoughtful guy who never missed a moment to engage with me in a political discussion. On long holidays during college, we would return home on the same bus, seated next to each other and debating a topic for the full four hours of the trip. I can still recall one debate about North Korea because, looking back, I think he had the facts right and I didn’t, despite my strongest protestations to the contrary.

As smart as Marc was, he was an unassuming guy. Whereas my approach to debating is speaking louder and longer in order to annoy the opponent into submission, his approach was retaining a calm demeanor that exhibited firmness without being imposing.

After college, our discussions increasingly ventured into thoughts about life, and his laid-back demeanor showed there, too. I would often vent about some relatively unimportant gripe before boldly declaring that I’m going to make a dramatic lifestyle change, to which he would simply smile and respond, “You should do what you want.”

We certainly talked a lot, particularly on the rare occasions we were able to get together in recent years. The second to last time I saw him, we met up at a local IHOP for a weekday brunch. The tab I picked up was an extraordinary $60 accumulated over nearly four hours, an indication of how much I enjoyed spending time in his company.

That’s why our final get together leaves a wanting memory. We agreed to meet up at a local Korean restaurant even though he was busy at work. There was a lot for me to talk to him about. I had just secured my first teaching gig, and he was the perfect person to ask how I should go about it and what I can expect since he had been teaching for a couple years and I knew it gave him a lot of satisfaction.

We’d planned for a two hour lunch, but after an hour and a half, he wanted to cut it short to get into work early. I was disappointed because there was so much more to talk about, but I said “Ok, I understand,” thinking there’s always next time.

The casual goodbye we shared in the parking lot was the last time I saw him.

I will miss Marc greatly.

During college, there was a year in which I didn’t see him at all because he was studying abroad in London. I remember the sense of void while he was away, if only because I lost a reliable movie buddy whom I could call on at any time to catch a casual flick.

That period was lonely enough; this farewell is going to hurt much more.

There won’t be any more opportunities for him to encourage me to pursue my dreams and aspirations.

There won’t be any more opportunities for me to needle him during a political debate.

And most of all, there won’t be any more opportunities for us to create new random memories.

But for the many moments we did have together I will be eternally grateful, even if they were far too few.

I pray, Marc, that you are at Lord’s side, finding peace that you well deserve.

Thanks for being a great friend.