Joe

My friend, Joe Bednar, died Friday evening.

He was only 35 years old.

Joe had been feeling unwell, and went to the hospital Friday to get checked out. It turns out that Joe had had a series of small (so small he hadn't even noticed) heartattacks during the week, and it fucked up his arteries. He died on the operating table.

Joe had always had health problems, way before I ever met him. When I started hanging out with Joe and his bunch of pals, he had already begun to lose his sight. I'm sure I asked someone (in passing) what had happened to cause this and other ailments, but I don't even remember what it was. It's not really cool to quiz a new acquaintance about ill health, and I just never brought it up again.

That was the thing about Joe- we all tended to forget that he was basically blind, since he didn't dwell on it, or make an issue of it. Ever. It made for some weird moments, to be sure. Many times I would innocently ask him if he had seen a certain movie, or person, or something, lately. He would reply with something like: "Ummm, I haven't really seen much of anything, lately," and chuckle. He thought it was funny. Wacky bastard.

He would make it out to just about every party. Someone (usually my old pal, The Clown) would drive him, and lead him to a good seat, centrally located, and near the beer. He would sit and chill out, listening to whatever music was cranking through the stereo (Joe was a MAJOR metalhead), and conversing with whomever was nearby. I sometimes felt bad when I would glance over and see Joe sitting all alone. Once everybody got a good buzz on, people would forget that he was kind of stuck in one place. Everyone would be caught up in getting another beer, or chasing tail, or smoking a joint, what have you, and Joe would be without company. In those instances, I would always make a point to go over and chat with him.

Joe was a funny sumbitch, and talking to him was always a blast. We never hit an uncomfortable silence, because we had one tried and true subject that we both loved to talk about: STAR WARS. Oh yeah, Joe was an even bigger goon for that shit than me, and that's saying a lot. We could gab for hours about that long ago galaxy, far, far away. It would usually end up turning into a trivia battle, with each of us grilling the other with the most fanboyish, obscure questions we could fathom. I'll be dammed if that wiseass didn't beat me every time. Honestly, my first emotion upon hearing of Joe's death was sadness that he would never get the chance to (at least) listen to the newest, and last, Star Wars movie that opens next week. And that I would never get the chance to discuss (and dissect) it with him over a beer at the next party.

During those battles, I would tend to once again forget that Joe was blind. He would say something like, "I gotta go take a leak," and I (in my eternal dumbassness) would reply, "Well then, go ahead. I'll think up more questions while you're gone." Joe would just smirk at me until I'd realized that he needed me to guide him to the can, and then back to his seat. Dopey me.

Joe was (as I wrote previously) a total metalhead. He rocked the mullet way past it's expiration date, and he was proud of it. That's how he was. If he liked something and you didn't, he didn't give a flying fuck. He dug what he dug. You dig?

Joe dated my sister for a few months back in the mid 90's. I'd be hanging out downstairs (dirty basement dweller that I am) and I'd hear my sis walk in with Joe. It was hard to not hear Joe-his blindness resulted in him speaking a bit louder than "normal" since he couldn't exactly see people's expressions and body language to know if they were hearing him, or looking at him. Perfectly understandable, but it was still funny to hear my sister periodically "shushing" him during their late-night conversations, so as not to wake up my mom. They only dated for a few months, my sister and Joe, and I never did ask her why they stopped (she and I don't really discuss that kind of stuff). I don't even know if they ever banged (we DEFINITELY don't discuss THAT kind of stuff!). Either way, I always thought they made a decent couple.

I always liked it when Joe would come to one of my gigs. As we played, I would watch the crowd to see who was digging the music, and who was busy doing other shit like watching the game on television, or chatting up some random bar skank. Joe was ALWAYS listening to the band. I guess being blind made it difficult to hold a conversation while the music was blaring, since most people (probably) rely on visual cues to get the gist of someone's point when they can't hear them over the din of a rock band. Or something. Either way, Joe was always focused on the music. He was also a bass player, so I tried to play my best around him. Not only for his enjoyment, but also because Joe would not hesitate to tell you if he thought you (or your song selection) sucked. He was Simon Cowell long before that Limey prick ever made a name for himself.

I can't believe Joe's gone. He had recently gotten engaged to his gal, Heather. Just last week, he graduated from The Connecticut School of Broadcasting. Joe had a great speaking voice, and he had even learned to operate the board by touch! Everything was going great for him, and now he's gone. It's fucked.

So, join me in raising a pint for Joe. He was a good man. I'm trying not to be too mopey about the whole thing, because if Joe could speak from the Heavens, he'd probably tell me to stop being a whiny pussy about it. That's the way he was...

Here's to ya, Joebee!