When did you meet Mickey?
1958
Where did you meet him?
Chattanooga
Memory of Mickey
My first real encounter with Mickey Nardo was in 1958 or so. I was giving him a ride home from school during our junior year at Chattanooga High School. It must have been a weekend, because I didn’t drive our family car on weekdays. I had moved into Mickey’s Brainerd neighborhood back during junior high, but owing to a religious experience (which nearly ruined my life) I shunned all members of the hell-raising crowd Mickey ran with. Then Mickey disappeared into the bowels of McCallie school, the local military prep school where his father was football coach. It was punishment for his delinquent ways, but he returned to public school after taking the cure. (I am paraphrasing his account.)
He did not share my obsession to participate in every possible non-sport extra-curricular activity, essentially the high school show business culture. But he was present on Stunt Night, the biggest show biz event of the year, where Miss Chattanooga High School was crowned. He escorted the winner. I escorted a member of the court. Anyway, back to the car ride, which seemed to be a bonding event. We agreed that each of us could be a straight-A student with as little as ten minutes of study per night. Neither of us was willing to put in that much study time outside of school. It was a mutual boast. We could do it, but we didn’t want to be that nerdy about it.
We completely lost touch after high school. I knew he went to medical school in Memphis, along with a small Chattanooga delegation. I set my sights on being an astronaut, but ended up being an ex-Air Force pilot war protester and hippy world traveler. We reconnected forty years after high school when the class of 1960 was reassembled in cyberspace.
The master of the new email list started peppering us with right-wing jokes. Since the entire email list was visible on every missive, a reply-all went to everybody. I objected to one of his jokes and called attention to the looming war with Iraq, to which I also objected. Mickey came to my defense, and the class soon sorted itself into liberals and conservatives. At least one classmate professed to be thrilled that the touted “leaders of tomorrow” were having a serious policy debate. But several people were offended, and a consensus was reached to use the list only for class reunion announcements and personal milestones, i.e., death announcements.
We continued our renewed friendship via email and visits every year or so. After one of our visits to Mickey and Sharon at their retirement log cabin in Jasper, we met my wife Barby’s former college roommate, Joanna Adams, in Atlanta. She had become a celebrated pastor of Presbyterian churches, and she knew Mickey well. She volunteered that when Mickey retired and moved to Jasper, Atlanta lost its best shrink.
We will miss him greatly, and we are astonished to learn how many other people will miss him as well. His friends are legion. He had a deep connection to many people. He was one of the smartest and most compassionate people you will ever meet. Goodbye, Mickey.