Exploding Egg

An old friend, gone, and a lesson to be more forgiving

Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future. ~Paul Boese

One of the more interesting things about the rise of the Internet and social networking sites is that it makes it much easier to find friends from the past, assuming you want to reconnect.

But sometimes you find out things that really set you back and make you stop and think.

I’m talking about an old friend, Sam Rhinelander, who I had a falling out with after my first go-around in college back around 1989.

Sam Rhinelander

Sam was a very good friend in high school. We were in the same grade, both sort of outsiders — me because I just didn’t really fit in and him because he lived in Roxbury and commuted out to the suburbs to attend Lexington High School.

We were both musicians. He played the saxophone, I played guitar. I wrote a musical in my senior year and wrote a part into it specifically for him. In it he was sort of ethereal character that roamed in and out of the action, making commentary on the various characters — which was a bit like our real life outsider roles.

One time we got a bunch of T shirt paint and designed a bunch of shirts to sell at the Patriot’s Day parade in Boston. One was a really evil looking sketch of Ronald McDonald with the title “Eat Shit.”

T shirt making

I think it was the only one we sold. But the venture became quite a joke between us.

After high school we both went to Berklee Pool of Mucus (School of Music) in Boston together for a semester. I hated it. I’m not sure what his impression of it was but he continued after I dropped out.

We remained good friends that semester, but at the end we had an argument and I became so angry with him that I decided the friendship was over. And while I had good reason at the time, “over” can be a very strong word.

After that I had a career as a computer repair technician, then went to New Mexico to college and to my 15 year career as a journalist.

The Prom, Sam, me, and my date, Steve

Sam tracked me down, twice, and left messages on my phone. But though about 8 years had passed since our fight the first time he called, and about 12 had passed by the second, I still wasn’t ready to talk to him again. I didn’t call him back.

I wish I had.

I remember the second call. He told me he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. Times were tough but he seemed to be hanging in there. But I was still mad. And I should have let it go and talked to him.

Now, almost 20 years since we last spoke, I’ve discovered it’s too late.

I started looking for him a few years back. I decided I really did want to talk to him again. I guess we never really forgot each other.

And through looking around online recently I found him. Sort of.

I found his death record.

Sam and I at a high school graduation party

This is all the information I could get:

Name: Samuel C. Rhinelander
Date of Birth: Sunday July 27, 1969
Date of Death: Tuesday May 04, 2004
Est. Age at death: 34 years, 9 months, 7 days
Last known residence:
City: Charlottesville; Monticello
County: Charlottesville City (Albemarle County)
State: Virginia
ZIP Code: 22902
Latitude: 38.0250
Longitude: -78.4761
Confirmation: Verified
Social Security details:
State of Issue: Maine
Number: 004-74-5658

The missing bit of information here — the cause of death — has been eating away at me since I first discovered this a few weeks ago. I know his mother is dead. I know his father wasn’t in the picture, although I can’t remember if he was dead or not. And I just hope Sam didn’t die alone and miserable from such a horrible disease.

I tried to contact the county clerk in Virginia to get the information, but they told me it’s confidential. I asked some old friends if they knew anything about his death, but it seems I wasn’t the only one that lost touch with Sam.

So, I’m pretty much stuck wondering what happened, and hoping that at least he went peacefully and things worked out for him. I’m also hoping the death record is a mistake and he’ll track me down again and give me a call. But I found it, verified, in more than one place, so that may be wishful thinking.

It’s also disturbing that he died in 2004 and I’ve only just learned about it. In some ways I’m mourning what could have been, but wasn’t.

Looking back on it now I wish I had been more forgiving. I wish I had picked up the phone and talked to him. But I didn’t. So all I can do now is remember the lesson for the future, and try to not make the same mistake.

If anybody knows what happened, I’d love to find out.

Sam with our high school yearbook

And even if we don’t know — lets drink a toast to Sam. I hope you’re in a better place, buddy, wherever that may be!



September 1, 2010 - Posted by | Musings | ,


  1. So, now you have a reason to come for a visit. We can go down to Charlottesville and see what we can track down.


    Comment by Marilyn | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  2. Oh Sue, that’s so sad…you’re right, a lesson to us all. xx

    Comment by henrysmummy2003 | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  3. I’m always up for visiting you guys, Auntie!! I’m not sure physically going there will gin up any more information, though, sadly.

    Comment by SueVo | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  4. Eric P. and I were just wondering about Sam as well, about a month ago. Wow.

    Comment by Michael Weinmayr | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  5. Yeah I’m not sure if anybody else kept in touch with him. Maybe Allison Courant? I’m not in touch with her, though.

    Comment by SueVo | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  6. Can we make this the Sam Rhinelander Memorial Page?

    I have a couple of strong memories of him.

    First, him playing sax in the Jazz Combo. Watching him solo was exhilarating and exhausting, he was all over the place. And yet, in the chaos, no matter how much he moved, the bell of his sax was always the same distance from the microphone. He could control the chaos.

    Second, the Monday after Easter, senior year, was April 1. We were all eating lunch on the green outside G house. There were lots of Easter eggs being cracked on various objects to open them for eating. I grabbed Sam’s egg (since I didn’t have one) and cracked it on my forehead. Sam, if I recall correctly, was living with an uncle at the time, who had packed his lunch. The Easter egg was dyed, but it was raw. I had egg running down my face, and Sam was rolling on the ground, feet in the air, laughing and out of breath. It was the perfect prank, since he didn’t even know it was happening.

    Comment by Michael Weinmayr | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  7. We sure can make this the memorial page. Love the egg story!

    Yeah just an odd story… I remember we saw this “I LoVermont” bumper sticker one time, and he was joking around that it said “I Liver Vermont” — which had him rolling around laughing.

    Comment by SueVo | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  8. I read your post this afternoon and I’ve been walking around dazed ever since.

    Sam and I kept in touch off and on through college. He would take me out on his motorcycle and he love to go so fast it felt like we were flying. I last saw him in 1998 (I think) in Harvard Sq. He was driving a taxi and looked better than I had seen him in a long while.

    God, 34 years old.

    Comment by Allie Courant Lawler | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  9. Great post. I’m sorry you never got to get in touch with your friend. I am sure he forgives you. It’s s great reminder to all of us that we should live like every day is our last.

    Comment by Christina | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  10. I know he had a series of strange jobs for a while there. I remember him selling steaks or something out of a freezer truck for a while. I wish I knew what happened.

    Comment by SueVo | September 1, 2010 | Reply

  11. Sue, I’m in Maryland, if you get any leads on something, let me know, maybe I can be boots on the ground.
    Much sadness…
    A similar thing happened to me a couple years ago. I was just wandering online, decided to play a game of “who can I find”, and stumbled into the obituary of a friend of mine from college. 35, father of two, and such a good guy…

    Comment by Joel H | November 9, 2010 | Reply

  12. awesome article… damn it all goes so quickly doesnt it?

    Comment by OG | February 28, 2011 | Reply

    • Hello, I live in Charlottesville, VA, and met Sam playing his flute on the downtown mall. I am a musician, and I play bass. I am aware of some of his later history possibly a little before his death, and what is written here is what Sam had told me happened to him when he left Charlottesville. He also told me that he had traveled to northern Virginia, (can’t remember exactly where) to visit his girlfriend. He said he imagined that his girlfriend was in the car with him, and leaned over to kiss her, and that’s when he wrecked the car, and was taken to the hospital. It was then when the incident with the police officer, and trying to grab the gun happened. Things are somewhat fuzzy in my mind on every detail, but I believe he was released on bond, after a stay in some type of facility, and came back to Charlottesville for a while and asked me for advice on what might happen when he went back to court. He was worried about what would happen, and I seem to remember he had a couple of choices he could make. I was not aware of Sam’s mental condition until I read about it here, although there had been a couple of instances that I suspected there was something going on before the car wreck incident. I was totally shocked to read here about his death, and had no idea what had happened to him, and that it had been so long. I only heard from him a couple of times by phone then never heard from him again, and wondered what had happened to him. A timeline on these events is a little fuzzy, but if you’d like to get in touch with me, feel free to first contact me through facebook, and then we could hopefully speak on the phone. Sam was a good person, and a talented musician, and I missed him, which is why I tried to find him from time to time. May he rest in peace. -T.C. Howard

      Comment by T.C. Howard | January 15, 2015 | Reply

  13. Got some new news about what happened to Sam last night.
    Old friend of his called me and gave me some information – thanks Andy. I guess there were good times and bad, but Sam had schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and apparently his behavior became pretty erratic as he got older and he had started having hallucinations.
    I sort of suspected this, which perhaps you could tell from the tone of the post, but he confirmed that Sam killed himself.
    He said Sam was arrested for driving over 100 miles an hour on the wrong side of the highway, unfortunately due to his disease telling him to, and that Sam had tried to grab a police officer’s gun.
    Sam was facing jail time and I guess his memory had become pretty spotty. I gather he didn’t want to face it, and his friend said he jumped off a bridge.
    It’s an awful disease and I can’t say I blame him – horrible to not be able to trust your own mind. I just hope others out there have the support they need.
    Anyway, I hope everybody who knew Sam is doing well. Take care all,

    Comment by SueVo | April 16, 2011 | Reply

    • hi Sue.
      Today,I was sitting with my 7 month old baby as he slept and thought of Sam and tried to google him using my mobile phone as I have done many times over the last few years. I am shocked to learn that he has died and moreso as he has died so long ago.
      I commend you for this beautiful poignant blog.I went out with Sam back in 1996. I had just arrived from Ireland , aged 21 to my first teaching job and befriended Sam whilst he drove me in his taxi.I knew instantly that he was different from anyone I had ever met and this rather daunted me at first but he was so sweet hearted ,funny and intelligent that it was easy to love him.
      From what I can gather, this was a stable time in his life .
      Similar to yourself I had a difficult parting with him. I had returned to Ireland to go back to college .Sam came to Ireland to live. It was a wonderful time for him but he was without the support network that he needed. We were friends at this stage . I tried to provide support for him but he became ill in Dublin here.He returned to the US as his holiday VISA expired and he also knew he was not coping.
      When I thought of Sam today I imagined him in a place that he said he loved above all places he had ever been.It is a place called ‘Geochain’ or Yokane in English.We had an amzing holiday there in the summer of 98.We had driven all around the coast there but ended up cycling to Yokane which was my grandmothers birthplace.The area is very rugged ,hilly and on the wide ocean. I remember Sam meeting the local postman and thinking it was hilarious as the postman remembered me as a child and in two seconds he was able to tell Sam as to who my parents, grand parents,great grand parents were and who was buried in which tiny graveyard. He then rattled on to Sam about my whole family tree and who emmigrated ect.Sam was baffled and breaking is heart laughing as he only wanted to ask the bloke where the next shop might be.
      I want to ring Sams dad Charles. I am very grateful to you for writing this blog as I can now ring the poor man and sympathise with him. I met Sam’s dad in Vinlyhaven in Maine where Sam’s family have a holdiay home.Another great holiday .We drove up in his truck and I remember us singing Johnny Cash songs much of the journey.

      His dad Charles was a huge support to Sam and a wonderful dad in the time I knew Sam.I just felt so sad for his dad today as I watched my two sons play.Sam has a brother called Mack who lives in California also.
      What is really strange is that Sam did ring my mothers house on Christmas day 2004.I was living elsewhere so I missed the call but did talk to him sometime in the Spring of 2004. He called and we chatted for an hour. He was extremely calm, soft spoken and very kind to me. He was coherant and made sense and was really happy for me as I told him that I was lecturing. He played some music on his flute that he had composed and told me that he was a team leader for group therapy. I made me peace with him as I hated how we had parted and he was very forgiving.
      He sent a letter to me sometime after that but I moved home and was due a first baby and the letter was mislaid but it was very sweet also,wishing me the best. I regret that he went through all those years of not fitting in.I remember reading the novel’The Scarlet Letter’ years after I met Sam and I thought of Sam as being like Hester.He had this way of really understanding people as he had been through so much himself. He is missed in Ireland tonight.Lots of friends he made here are thinking of him tonight.
      I hope you found some comfort in this message.

      Comment by aine maire | May 9, 2011 | Reply

  14. Sigh. Today I decided to find my long lost friend Sam Rhinelander, after not speaking with him since around 1996. And this post is what I found.

    I met Sam in college at Columbia University in NYC around 1990 — he transferred there from Berkelee School of Music. He joined a co-ed literary called Alpha Delta Phi and was a vibrant and lovable part of the social group — funny as all hell and “wicked smaht” as he’d say when he’d turn on his Boston accent. I mean, really frickin’ sharp and a fierce and integrative thinker.

    He had a black leather jacket with various straps and off one shoulder hung a good sized inflatable pink bunny. Let’s face it, few people could pull this off but somehow he did. I think the bunny fashion accessory was some sort of statement about the absurdity of posing and posers, and an appeal to living free of others expectations. But the fool is the wisest one, and Sam had tremendous wisdom, even if he did foolish things that were sometimes risky and harmful to himself.

    After college I ended up in Boston and Sam and I hung out regularly – like a couple times a week sometimes – and became close friends. I lived in a co-op house called Alien Landing and Sam would joke that at a place with such a name he could finally feel at home. He was a courier and occasionally I’d ride shotgun in his pickup truck as he tooled around town like a madman – I have to say he was an excellent driver aside from the madness. We’d be blast music and talk about our girlfriends and stuff. He really loved that I’d spend time with him just driving around town – it was nice to see his sweetness. One day Kurt Cobain died — the radio played Nirvana for hours and we tooled around town blasting the music with the windows down and postulating on how the youth of the nation were going to take this event. We were feeling it, raw and real.

    Sam’s feeling were often very close to the surface, so being with him often had a “be here now” intensity and sensitivity to the moment. This could be whether he was in a manic, neutral or depressed state of mind. He was very aware of the impacts of his manic depression o himself and others in general, but not always in the moment. Often, but not always, was attentive to his schedule of medications. Sometimes his mood swings were just really hard to deal with as a friend. And I am sad to say that ultimately the cumulative effect of dealing with it why we had drifted apart and I had not spoken to him since about 1996.

    During those few years in Boston, like someone who posted above, he also scared the daylights out of me while I road on the back of his motorcycle – to the extent that the after the second time I never got back on with him. He had some tough times then as his mother was going through chemo and ultimately died of cancer. His mom was terrific and loved Sam so much, which he knew and needed. She kept her spirits up between the chemo treatments and we’d go have poker nights at her house in Cambridge near Porter Square I think. Sam, his mom, his older brother Mack, me, and a couple of friends like our friend Semyon who was a professional card player notorious in Vegas and worldwide (the MIT blackjack team leader – yes, the guy in the book and the movie).

    It meant a lot to Sam that his friends would come do poker night with his mom. On one of those nights his mom saw me wearing wingtip shoes with dark sock and shorts, and said I looked like Nixon who would go to the beach in his wingtips and dark socks. For some reason I blushed and Sam noticed, and was somehow elated. Sam did not let me live down the Nixon blushing thing for a while, and I think he was a little proud that his mother came up with it.

    Sam made some girlfriends happy – he treated women with respect, from what I saw. I feel like it was good for Sam to be good for a girlfriend, and to help attend to others’ needs. It was a healthy thing for him. Sam was generous with his time and energy toward people.

    Music was a big part of Sam’s life, and he played sax in a band with this guy Paul who lived in Revere – another good hearted guy. They’d practice in a garage and while they were serious about the music, they also goofed around and just had a rolicking good time. The band would have shows at clubs around town where Sam would rock it on the sax – particularly to the funk songs where he added a jazz edge.

    One time after a show his was pumped and I called him a stud. He riffed on that and said he should have a tattoo on his forehead that said STUD BOY in big letters. For his next birthday I had a baseball cap made for him with STUD BOY in huge letters, and I swear he could not have been more touched and excited to wear the cap. He thought it was the most hilarious thing, and again like the pink bunny he could totally pull off wearing the hat.

    When Sam was shaving fun, it was infectious – tons of energy, goodwill, funny jokes. Just walking along next to him was a blast. Sam was incredibly memorable — which speaks to the post about someone who saw something profound in him in the course of a taxi ride. Folks who only meet him briefly remember him to this day – it could feel like he is familiar and open as an old friend very quickly with Sam. He was a deeply caring and compassionate person, and a good friend.

    I’ll miss you, Sam.

    Comment by The Tractor | June 4, 2011 | Reply

  15. I’m so sorry to hear this. Sam was unfailingly kind as I knew him, almost always good for a joke or a prank. He seemed to pass through the chaos and difficulties he had almost unscathed. I thought he would be well, remain a survivor.

    I believe I saw him last in front of the Berklee entrance on Mass Ave. It must have been in the spring or early summer of 1989 or 1990. I remember the gold-orange New England summer sunset was settling on the buildings and sidewalks, the shadows were already long. Sam stood in a patch of sunlight and was wearing that black leather jacket, holding an instrument case, looking meditatively up the street with those distinctive sunglasses of his…and taking no notice of us passing on the opposite sidewalk. A scene right out of a Rilke poem.

    Hopefully he found many days of bliss and grace among all those of storms and salty rains falling.

    Forgiveness…a precious thing indeed. (Sigh.)

    Comment by Peter Becker | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  16. The previous passages about Sam have brought comfort but I have to say that I am still very shocked by what happened to him. I was his Irish girfriend from 1996 to 97.After I left the US in 97 ,he had visited me in Ireland where he loved living until he got sick in 98.

    In a previous post ,I mentioned that Sam had fallen in love with West Cork in Ireland .Only a week ago I visited this area with my two sons and husband in where he loved it so much .All the good memories came back just by being there. I remembered how he had hired a car and how it had ran out of petrol in the middle of a mountainous ,very rural region by the ocean. We had great fun pushing the car up dirt track roads in the middle of a storm. With Sam this was fun ,with anyone else it was a pain.He had a way of turning things around and seeing the funny side which in this case was me gasping and panting as I pushed the car up steep hills whilst he sang James Brown songs telling me to push faster.

    I remembered how he made friends with everyone on this holiday in a way that was so natural to him. At our hotel breakfast table,on a very remote Irish language speaking island he befriended a girl from Maine as she could not understand the broken English accented waitress and therefore could not manage to order food so Sam thought it would be a great gag for him to order in the Irish language for her. He learned from me how to order in the Irish language but everyone in the breakfast room started laughing as his phoney Irish accent was so hilarious and he said he wanted to sound like ‘a loud obnoxious tourist’.

    One of my favourite memories of Sam is on the very rugged and remote Aran Islands off the West Coast of Ireland. We decided to visit there in November so that the island would be free of tourists and Sam wanted to experience ‘rural island life’.He loved the hardship of the boat journey out. He befriended the fishermen mending their nets and drinking hot whiskeys in the pubs at nightime.He loved that the Islanders knew that I was not a ‘native Irish speaker’ and called me a ‘book Irish’ woman. I think Ireland reminded him of growing up in Maine. One night we decided to walk to the side of the island facing the wide ocean which was colder and more windswept. We were in the middle of stargazing when we could hear shouting and laughing in the distance . The wind was blowing hard and was carrying the rumpus. It came nearer and Sam was offering to protect me ect. Out of the darkness came a farm truck full of about twenty local islanders all singing ballads. The driver was a chef that Sam had befriended earlier and he told us how he had just won a bottle of whiskey in a raffle and how everyone was going up to his house for a party. This was 2 am in the middle of nowhere in November and there were people as old as 70 years of age on the truck .We declined the offer of attending this party and I now wish we had gone.Sam laughed his head off as he kept picturing twenty people sharing one bottle of whiskey into the wee hours and walking into the Atlantic storm winds on the way back home .All linking arms ,drunk and falling like dominoes into the puddles.
    There are so many other wonderful memories that I have like that but for Sam I will share these ones. I attended another friends funeral only recently and it struck me how as Sam friends none of us got to say goodbye and how it so hard to actually believe that he is gone and in such a tragic way. I have so many things to thank him for and I hope he knew how amazing he was.It is a comfort to see from this site that other people loved him too. Thanks for the laughs Sam and for being such a great friend.

    Comment by aine maire | August 29, 2011 | Reply

  17. Thanks for posting this Sue. I’d been wondering what happen to Sam.

    We were friends in High school, then I saw him a few times after that but lost touch until we ran into each other in Harvard square in the mid 90’s. I was looking for a place to live and his room mate was moving out so we lived together in lower Alston from 95-96.

    His mother had died a few years earlier and it seemed to have broken something inside of him. All of the crazy energy that he’d always had took a darker turn and developed into a bi-polar disorder.

    It was a strange year. We had some fun and some great times, but there were times when I didn’t see him for a week or two. His dog would nose her way out of his room to be let out and walked, and I kept wondering if I’d come home one day to find him dead. When he was in the ‘up’ phase, he was the wild man we knew in high school. But when he went ‘down’ he went way down. I’d never known anyone who was truly depressed before and it scared the shit out of me at times. He had started driving the cab at that point and really enjoyed the freedom of it. It’s how he met Aine Marie who wrote earlier about him, and with whom he was totally infatuated. If you read this Comment Aine Marie, thank you for sharing some of your life with Sam, it meant the world to him.

    But he was always Sam. He went up to Laconia for bike week, bought a dirt bike at auction, then never picked it up. We used to take long rides on our motorcycles until he decided to race a Corvette one night, missed a shift, and blew his motor. I kept saying that we could find a used motor and fix his bike but he never seemed to want to make it happen.

    I remember a time when Sam pulled up in front of the house in his cab. He came in telling me I had to get in the car now. He drove me up to Coolidge Corner to show me a pair of glasses he was thinking of buying. I had just gotten off work and was dead tired, but he had to show me the glasses. He then got a fare and left me in Starbucks while he drove some woman to where ever, promising to come back and pick me up. He came back an hour later and finally drove me home.

    There was something so lovable about Sam. Inside, he was just a good person with no malice and so much love. But he was a difficult friend because he would do these crazy things that were so aggravating and annoying. I couldn’t be mad at him long because he only ever meant for it to be fun. And when I accidentally ruined one of his late mother’s pots, he was sad but never got mad at me. He asked me for 10 bucks, took one of my beers, and called it even. (My wife remembers him mentioning it when he visited us later, so it clearly effected him.)

    I left the country in 1997 for a year and by the time I’d gotten back, he had moved away.

    In the early 2000’s, Sam gave me a call and came over for a visit. He was in town visiting and we had a meal and talked. He looked subdued, and quiet for Sam. He talked about having difficulty finding a way to settle in. My wife asked him if he was dating anyone, and he replied by thanking her for thinking that he was worthy of getting a date. He clearly wasn’t in a good space, but I guess I had no idea how bad he was doing.

    I tried calling him several times after that, but the numbers he gave me no longer worked and now I know why. It always amazed me that he was not anywhere on the web, but I figured he wasn’t doing well and was probably institutionalized somewhere. I am really sad to finally hear the news.

    May his memory always be a blessing.

    Aaron S

    Comment by Aaron | January 28, 2012 | Reply

  18. Thanks for sharing your story Aaron, and everybody. With the 25th high school reunion coming up I keep thinking about Sam. Long as he lives in our thoughts he’s not entirely gone. Glad everybody’s been able to at least get some information from this page. Take care everybody. Sorry if you are visiting this site and finding out for the first time. 😦

    Comment by SueVo | January 30, 2012 | Reply

  19. Just to say hi to aaron in previous message.i remember you well. Those were good times and i too recall sam hibernating and i just was too young to understand how hard that was for him and i would insist he get out and about.we were lucky to have had his friendship. I hope all turned out well for you.aine marie.

    Comment by Reading this post brought back lots of memories of a great friend | April 11, 2012 | Reply

    • As the anniversary of Sam’s passing approached, I looked on the internet for a copy of his obituary as I couldn’t find my copy. I didn’t find it, but rather I found these posts. The information is largely correct. His 20s were stormy as he fought having mental illness and maintaining his treatment of medication, lifestyle changes, and therapy. However, I’m happy to report that by his 30s, Sam had come to accept his diagnosis and was serious about taking good care of himself. Sadly, despite his best efforts, he could not keep the illness from making its presence known. Each bout cost him dearly, and in the end, he could not bear the thought that his life would always be like a house of cards, vulnerable to being blown away at any time. While it is true that Sam committed suicide, it is not accurate that he jumped from a bridge. Rather than share with you the details of his passing, I am going to do what I believe he would have wanted instead, to ask you to remember him in the ways that you have here in these posts. That was the Sam whose presence in this world is missed each day.

      Comment by Lynda | May 3, 2012 | Reply

  20. I was just looking for a table saw on Craigslist, and saw one posted from Roslindale….my mind flashed to Sam (as he lived there for a bit), a quick google, and I found this blog….full of comments from other folks that flash in to my mind from time to time.

    Besides the highschool music memories, I remember him driving a pickup around with the cab full of dry ice and frozen steaks 🙂

    I also remember (sometime after highschool) visiting him in an apartment in (I think) Cleaveland Circle….his pet iguana had escaped out the window into a tree….he had to gain access the roof next door to get the iguana back (a task that was particularly well suited to Sam).

    I am sad to hear of his passing today, and will remember him well.


    Comment by Dean Stiglitz | May 10, 2012 | Reply

  21. I drove across country with Sam when I bought my first car. His mom Karen and my mother were close, and he was a great guide and friend.. We talked about everthing over the week together including his illness. He at the time was so stable.
    I’m sorry he found himself in need of family and support when he needed it most.

    Comment by Marta | August 4, 2018 | Reply

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