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I don’t quite remember how Michael and I first met, but I have a vivid memory of my first argument/exchange with him. No, it wasn’t about Afghanistan or Iraq, IR theory or grad school, or any other obvious topic of mutual interest - we argued about Whole Foods and their outlandish prices! He purchased his groceries from there and we (my fiance, Tracey, and I) didn’t, and so Michael was determined to get me to change my ways and to start eating “better quality, healthier” food. It never quite worked (I still shop at Stop&Shop!), but it did start something of a non-academic dialogue between us. Michael was large yet attentive, humble: he had spent way more time than I in England for his studies, he knew way more people, sights, and cultures there than I ever did, yet he let me carry on with my platitudes about the place with all the inviting charms of a genuinely curious listener.

Not too long before finishing his stint at Watson - over a delicious Japanese dinner at Koji Masutani’s apartment - he asked Tracey what she thought of me potentially going back to Iran for my research. It took me a while to realize the question was meant to be rhetorical: as Tracey approached what must have been her fiftieth reason for why I “should not even dream” about perhaps spending a few weeks doing research “there” Michael turned to me, wine in hand, and said “at least I know you’ll be eating healthier dishes there - no preservatives!” I must have seen Michael a couple of more times after that evening but I missed his farewell party right before he left for Afghanistan; I last heard from him just after the ISA conference in San Francisco when a mutual friend of ours from London sparked an e-mail exchange to which, much to my regret now, I never had the chance to respond. What a pity, what a jolt.

We weep, dear friend, mourning ourselves in your absence.