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After graduation, Craig earned a Masters Degree in Psychology at U of A and tried working for a time as a counselor. He then went back to school and got a nursing degree, and joined the Navy soon afterwards. After his term of enlistment with the Navy was completed, he lived in Oakland, CA; where he remained working as an emergency room nurse in one of the Kaiser hospitals. He passed away in Oakland shortly before his 49th birthday.
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James Patterson
I have dithered about whether to include this text on Craig's in memory page for weeks now, and having received encouragement from several people I asked, have decided to go ahead with it. I can only really add a few other things. Craig was one of the people I first met at Camelback, as opposed to bringing them along from Madison II. We became friends in our junior year through our enrollment in the Russian language class. Because of the structure of that class, a lot of our mutual friends were split accross our class of 1969 and the following year, the class of 1970, and at this point it's harder for me to sort our which were which.
Craig introduced me to the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA), and a number of other people there were from Camelback, but also from other class years.
Craig also introduced me to serious science fiction writing, which I was amazed to discover contained actual ideas, rather than just ray guns.
The following is the text of the eulogy I gave at Craig's funeral
Jim Patterson
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April 2000
There is a verse from the Rubiyat of Omar Khayam which always
appealed to Craig.
The moving finger writes, and having writ moves on.
Not all your piety nor wit,
Can lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.
Craig was my oldest and closest friend. We became friends in high
school, and remained friends ever since. Craig's friendship was a
continuous thread through my life. It was through Craig I became
involved for a time with the SCA, where I know many of you from.
It was through Craig that I met Saundra Saufley, and through her
my wife, Nancy.
Craig enjoyed conversation, and we would talk about anything and
everything. One night, after talking for hours about a range of
subjects, when Craig regretted that the weekend was over, I said
to him that we could always do it again, that there would be other
weekends. He responded that he thought there really were all too
few in a lifetime, and it turns out he was right.
On another of these occasions, I had remarked to Craig that to
love someone was to give a hostage to fate. Fate has one fewer
now, and instead there is an empty place which will never be
refilled.
There was another short poem that Craig always liked. I had always
thought that one of us would recite it at the other's funeral, but
whichever way it turned out, I never thought it would be so soon.
The poem is by Walter Savage Landor.
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife
Nature I loved, and next to nature art
I warmed both hands before the fire of life
It sinks, and I am ready to depart
But we were not, I was not, ready for Craig to go.
I miss him terribly, and I will miss him always.
Barb Hagan (Hogan)
What a beautiful tribute, James. Thanks for sharing.
Wendy Korrick
I can't help but second Barb's comment. It sounds like such a rare mutual friendship you both had.