I cannot hope to match my friend DeAnna's lovely reminiscence, and I certainly failed in my efforts to absorb Mike's cooking skills, though I enjoyed the fruits of his labor. I had the pleasure of setting him up, as it were, with a roommate when he and a friend of mine were both apartment-hunting. We met through Mary Lou Foley, whose father gave nicknames to her three friends named Mike so he could keep track of them. I was History Mike, Thurman was Fallon Mike, and Mary Lou's future husband, Michael Epling, was Carson City Mike. One night we gathered with several friends, including another Mike. Someone had a question and said, "Mike?" Four heads simultaneously snapped in the same direction. When you were with Mike, you knew the conversation would be learned or silly, sometimes learned and silly, but always fun and you would come away having learned something or found a new way to think about something. He knew a lot and wore his education lightly, though he took his work seriously, but not himself. He was a grand companion and a grand person.