Awhile ago I was hanging out in Tim’s shop with Tim and Abe. Can’t remember what the project was that night, if there was one. Anyhow, Tim said, “Have you seen Abe’s card?”

“No,” I said.

So Abe pulled out a business card and handed it to me. It’s a red card with a black skull and crossbones on it and nothing else. I flipped it over to look at the back, and there’s nothing there. No contact info, no identifying information of any kind. I smiled and said “Nice,” then stuck the card in my wallet.

In the time since then I’d pull the card out at parties, in class, whenever, and say “This is my friend Abe’s card.” The card would get passed around, and I’d listen to the confused questions, the comments on irony, the accusations of super-villainy, and I would just smile and say “That’s Abe,” basking in the reflected glow of his genius.

I’m glad I had the chance to know Abe. Last Christmas, just before he and his family moved back to California, we were hanging out in the shop again and I told him that I felt like I had missed the opportunity to hang out with him much while he was here. Tim smiled and said, “You didn’t miss much.”

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