When did you meet Mickey?
1985
Where did you meet him?
He was my uncle (my mother’s (Anna Nardo) brother)
Memory of Mickey
My strongest memories of my Uncle Mickey are wrapped up with the house in Atlanta that we visited a few times on road-trips from Louisiana during my childhood. I mostly remember the smell of the house, the steep and narrow hill you had to back down to get out of the driveway and feeling like my Uncle Mickey was cool, smart and creative and that I was proud he was my uncle. As many people have noted, Uncle Mickey was wonderful at playing with children—we once built a robot that looked like a little sphere on wheels with a proboscis that sensed when it hit a wall and would cause the robot to back up, turn 90 degrees to the right and continue on its way. I am not sure we ever attempted the “sword-art” that others have mentioned, but I vaguely remember doing something with those little parasols that you put in drinks. I also have a hazy recollection of an impulse purchase of a crossbow (perhaps to take out small critters invading the back yard?)—though maybe that was just a story I heard. Perhaps me and my sister Kate had a bit too much fun when we visited him as kids. We would be inconsolable at the end of the night when it was time to go to sleep—he once handed us off to my parents saying “I have failure to calm down”.
As I grew up, our visits to Atlanta became less frequent, but Uncle Mickey remained a powerful force in my life— as a mythical but familiar figure and as an actual person. I recognized myself in what I knew or heard about him: multiple (often strange) projects going at once, stubbornness, the desire to help people talk and work through issues they are facing, a long and slightly-winding path to a career and the tendency of Nardos to look more like Nardos as they get older. We exchanged books on meditation, and just as he was there for my sister Kate when she needed his help, he was there when I needed help during a few crucial and difficult moments of my adolescence. My last memory of my Uncle Mickey was simply sitting with him next to the turkey he was smoking for our Thanksgiving with Abby, Christian and Aunt Sharon in North Carolina.
Now that he is gone, I am sad because a crucial part of my family is gone. But although he is no longer physically here, I will always feel his presence; and having read the outpouring of support and affection from the members of all of the different communities he been a part of and has helped over the years, I take comfort from knowing that his presence will continue to be felt by all of us who have been lucky enough to have been part of his life.