For Hugh

Hugh Casey died on Tuesday, April 21, 2020.

I've spent the time between then and now doing papers for school, and wondering how to put into words who I saw as Hugh.  Because Hugh was so many things to so many people.

Classic Hugh

After all, how many people have their friends put together a convention to help pay his medical bills?  And have hundreds of people attend?  So I thought, and I thought.

And I concluded- this is Hugh I'm writing about.  He was a punster extraordinaire- one of the few who could defeat me.  And, above all, Hugh wanted people to be happy and laugh.  So, I will attempt to capture in words the Hughmanity of my friend.  

His service and burial were private, but I'll exHughme a bunch of old puns to honor him.

I do this because my friend Hugh is dead. Resting, Stunned, pining for the fjords, wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through him, passed on! Hugh is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-HUGH!!

A rare dignified shot

(If you don't know the source of that, you're no friend of Hugh.)  In Casey you didn't, I'll say Hugh must catch up on your Monty Python.  I think that show was brilliant, but it may depend upon your point of Hugh.

I met Hugh in 1989, when I answered an ad to join a D&D group.  The group didn't last long, but my friendship with Hugh did.  He had Hughmungous heart, which he shared with so many.

He also had a tremendous love for Sci-fi in general, and Star Trek in particular.  He ran a major convention called Philcon for many years until illness forced him to resign.  Or perhaps he just had his phil of the con life.  No, he loved cons- he could list the pros of cons extensively.  As for Star Trek, he was a master- I'd say he's Q but he was Hugh, not Q.  He was borg that way.  Believe me when I say he could Spock the error in anyone's Trek knowledge.  He was the real McCoy.  Great Scott, these puns are bad!  I hope all these puns are Worf the trouble.

He was also huge in the gaming community, comic books, steampunk... if there was a nerd fandom, he was involved, knew everyone, and was beloved.

I was shocked when Hugh first told me he was sick.  He was diagnosed with colon cancer, and had surgury to cut it out.  Afterwards, he told me "Now I no longer have a colon- I have a semi- colon."  I wish I'd thought of that one.  In any case, he told everyone about it, as he wanted people to get checked for it.  Colonoscopy.  At least he wasn't an ass about it.  Butt he was right, people should get checked.  As you know, the road to cancer is based on good intestines.  In the end, it wasn't the cancer that took him, but it sure didn't help.  The disease weakened him, but he fought valiantly.  Yes, he had a lot of Guts.  

With Hugh and Avi at Hugh Con.  Last time I saw him alive.

In 2004, I was hired at Vanguard (mutual fund place.)  I was surprised that Hugh worked there as well.  He was also a registered representative, but he specialized in retirement plans, like IRAs, annuities, and such.  Occasionally, I'd pass a call over to that department, and got him.  Even though the calls were recorded, we'd both get a quick pun before connecting the customer.  He worker there a lot longer than I did.  I'd like to say that I have 401K puns ready for this section, but I guess I'll have to make an ex-SEP-tion.  No laughs?  Wow- Roth crowd.

When I transitioned, Hugh not only took it in stride, he was welcoming.  He knows several transgender people, and knows we're just people.  No joke here- just sincere appreciation.

In fact, that's all this is: sincere appreciation.  Hugh was one of a kind.  The world was better for his having been in it.

And so was I.

May the four winds blow you safely home, dear friend.  I miss you.


Alyce Wilson, poet, wrote this for him.

We Are Hugh

(in memory of Hugh Casey)

In the pull of his orbit, unlikely bodies

revolved in loose ellipse. Celestial sea

that we were, lucky to cross

his sharp eye, to be drawn in

for a laugh, a conversation. Or,

in better days, a hug. That light,

that voice, a safe mooring spot

despite a world that cast

so many of us out. His power --

to see you through all the posing.

To show up for you

when you least

expected it. To make the day

better, just by passing through it.

To some, good Sir, to others

friend, or helper, or just

that friendly face. A glue

holding the universe together.

Keep saying it, over and over.

We are Hugh, and better for it.