Goodbyes are always hard, but this one is especially tough. I’ve never written one of these for a friend who was still breathing. It’s a gift to have the opportunity, but it’s also a little scary, and I’ll come back to that.
I have known Tim since we were both six or seven years old. I know that’s when it must have been, but I don’t remember the incident, or probably the next couple of hundred times. I just remember him as a generalized presence in my early life. My first real memory of Tim is when he talked me into playing this new game with him called Dungeons & Dragons. This would have been around 1978, as our hippie school got in on the ground floor. Tim carefully and painstakingly walked me through building my first character, a human magic-user with one spell and three hit points. Must have taken me two hours to do that first build, maybe more. I was super excited. Then, my dungeon master, Tim, killed my character in the first room, with the first attack. Just, boom, you’re done, guess you need to make a new character. I was soooo mad. Of course, a couple of days later I was back with a new character, and that must have gone better since I don’t remember any of it.
Then, my memories of Tim go hazy for a long time, just a long series of gaming, hanging out, and generally being baby nerds together. Lots of skipping class too, which leads me on to the moment Tim completely changed the entire course of my life. Totally by accident, but life-altering nonetheless. I was 13, and me and Tim and our third musketeer at the time, Karl Anderson, were all going to skip class together and game or something. The plan was sneak up onto the stage, a maneuver made possible by pulling the edge of the curtain out and wriggling up through the gap. It was the perfect place to hide out and game. Except for one teeny tiny hitch. On the way to the theater we ran into Tim’s class, which was called “Roving Theater” because the teacher, Vaughn Koenig, took the class wherever she fancied and used the different environments to foster creativity. It worked. Especially on Tim, who quickly spun a story about being late because he wanted his two friends to visit the class and see if they liked theater—just a pure, beautiful, bald-faced fabrication. I very much doubt that Vaughn believed it, though she didn’t let on, but to this day I am impressed with both the wit and his total commitment to the bit.
How did that change my life? Well, I never went back to the class I was skipping; don’t even remember the name of it. Instead, I joined Roving Theater and never missed a session—this may not make much sense if you went to a…normal school, but at Open it was hardly remarked. I absolutely fell in love with everything about theater, especially the storytelling aspects, and I spent much of my next ten years on stage or working behind the scenes. Even got my degree in theater. I eventually changed course and became a novelist, but storytelling has been my entire life. I might have found my way there on my own, but there’s no way to know. Without Tim, I might be an engineer today. *shudders* So there is a very real chance that if you are a fan of my novels, you owe Tim a thank you. Speaking of which, thanks Tim, without you I might have a real career that pays well and comes with good pay and a retirement plan instead of finding my way into my very badly compensated dream job.
At some point, Tim left Open School and we drifted apart. Nothing intentional, just different life paths and no modern internet to keep in touch. I would see him occasionally as we were both doing performance things, including a couple of years of overlap at the Renaissance Festival. Then there’s a big gap while my wife was in grad school and all of my time went into acting as support staff/life support for her, or writing my first couple of books. Laura finished grad school, and we started to have a life again about the same time I sold my first couple of short stories, at which point I decided to start going to cons again. If you know Tim, you can see where this one is going, since Tim pretty much equals CONvergence. Again, our paths were crossing on and off, because huge overlap of friends, this new thing called Facebook making connections easier, similar interests, etc. I don’t think either one of us was paying super close attention to the other, but I knew Tim had stayed on the performance track and I heard he was doing some pretty amazing things. Speaking of which, it was years later that I first heard him sing and was completely and utterly blown away—amazing voice and delivery. Still love to hear him whenever he comes up on the songs list in my running mix.
But stepping back again to CONvergence. I’m sitting up late poking at the internet in January of 2007 when out of the blue I get this email from Tim, “Hey Kelly–Tim Wick here. I realize this is going to sound pretty kooky but I thought I would check your interest in being a Guest of Honor at CONvergence 2009.” This was 18 months out because they’d already filled up the 2008 slots and there was more to it, but that’s the core. My response was suitably restrained, “Can I? Please, please? Can I? huh? xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo Kelly”. There was more back and forth, but that’s how CONvergence ended up as my Con home away from home for many years. Tim changing my life again. At least he asked this time.
Along comes 2009 and Tim asks me to join them for a quiz show bit in Vilification Tennis, in the general shape of Family Feud. My bit was to play the answer to the question “Which CONvergence GoH would let us kick him in the nads?” The gag was a blast, though I think I may have oversold it because my kicker gave me a very concerned “Are you okay!?” after. I think that was the last time I was on stage doing a bit with Tim, though obviously not the first. In addition to the Open School years, there were a couple of bits at Festival, mostly involving the closing show at the front gate. I am incredibly angry that I am going to miss out on the dozens of future opportunities we ought to have.
One more anecdote, and I’ll try to wrap this up—I’d like to get it done before he keels over, you know. Back in 2014, Tim was writing daily appreciations of friends—an idea I should really steal from him rather than waiting for people to die before I get around to it. He said a bunch of very nice things about me that I really appreciated, but I did have to quibble with one, because he said that a thing he liked about me going way back to grade school was that I was fearless. Which would be cool, but isn’t true. I’m frequently anxious or scared, witness how I felt about writing this post, knowing he’d read it. I have just never let that get in the way of doing the things I want to do. I have always tried to charge straight into that fear if it was in my way. It’s one of my core values, and I think it’s more powerful than being fearless if you can manage it. I have seen Tim prove that over and over again as he stands up and does stuff on stage that I would find incredibly terrifying. Pure fucking respect for that, brother, and so much love.
What else can I say about Tim? So much. He’s brilliant and funny, an amazing performer both of music and theater, and he’s also a damn good writer. He’s a loving family man and an amazing father—things observed from afar, but they shine through in everything he says and does. He may not have stayed at Open School, but he is a sterling example of everything that glorious educational experiment tried to make of us. He is civic minded, serves his communities, has developed a solid set of beliefs that he lives. He walks the walk, and I am going to miss knowing he’s out there making the world a smarter, better, goofier place. Can’t forget that last. Because like me, in addition to being a multi-class nerd-geek-bard he is also a big goof, and the world needs its big goofs.
Most of all, Tim Wick is my friend and I hate that we have to say goodbye.
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As a sort of foot note, it is my practice to buy a bottle of some special whiskey when a friend passes and to drink it slowly over time while recalling memories. I deeply resent how much Tim’s bottle is going to set me back. Love you, man, but could you maybe have chosen to be less awesome and expensive?