Your Web experience can only avoid the "IRL" aspect for so long

As you might recall, I wasn't rushing to sign up for Facebook for the longest time, and then when the excuse seemed best ("USERNAME?!"), even that backfired. But that got corrected, there I was, and I guess the idea is that I'm supposed to go back and reconnect to all these people I really couldn't be any less interested in talking to. Not right now, at least. That's what I tell myself.

And while I can honestly say that Facebook has yet to inspire any sort of enthusiasm or curiosity about it for me, I can say it will honestly bug me when I do go back and see this picture. I really haven't taken it upon myself to try and accumulate as many of my friends as I could find as quickly as possible, but when all the rest of my old colleagues from The Chronicle added me shortly after I joined, I figured maybe Mr. Sulski didn't check in that often. And so, because it's Facebook, I assumed that maybe like me, Sulski just didn't bother that much with it.

It was only last week I found out that he had been fighting cancer for three years—right about how long it's been since I graduated, and hence, last saw him.

Only days after I found out via e-mail that his condition was most certainly not good, he died Thursday morning with his wake and funeral this past weekend. I immediately went through photos from an old holiday end-of-semester party with The Chronicle staff from a few years back and put up a post on my Tumblr (the site where virtually everyone I maintain contact with are people I've never even been in the same room as, but also still where I prefer to spend a majority of my online free time).

None of the "likes" that followed for that were all that unusual or unexpected, but one note on my dashboard did seem particularly noteworthy:


You know, a song I posted ... in July. Just a coincidence, of course.

Jim Sulski was 52. I was only able to attend the wake, but it marked the first time I'd ever been to an open casket service. It's hard to recall the many things that were going through my mind at that moment, but mostly I'm sure I just wanted to make sure I wasn't doing anything wrong. Considering how I was most of the times Sulski had seen me, I'm sure he would have been happy just to know I was sober. (Then again, when I graduated and he hugged me after coming off the stage, he told me, "I don't want to see you when you're not drunk.")

I saw a number of people at Sulski's wake that also wrote their reactions to the news, including John Kass, Richard Roeper, my other advisor at The Chronicle, and my one-time assistant for the section. I also saw the man that trained me for that same job, again realizing how long it had been since we had last spoken. I came to that realization a lot. Much like the reminder that I wasn't the only one that didn't land a job "in the field."

There were equally moving obituaries from the Tribune, the Sun-Times, the Chicago Journal and—of course—the Chronicle. There was also this guy that I don't know but he seems to be talking about the same person, and that's kind of how I was this past week: I kept looking for more stuff about Sulski, like maybe the news would change.

Now the one thing I fear is the day that the pending friend request on Facebook goes away, as I'll almost certainly be tempted to believe there's still a possibility of seeing him one more time. But even when that particular reminder disappears, Sulski's memory will live on. I hope his passing teaches me to better express how sincerely I appreciate those I still have around.

UPDATE: More Sulski tributes from James Ewert, the friend holding the sign in the legendary photo I use to promote this here blog, and a moving piece from heartofanewsie.