One Rainy Day in Cleveland by Guest Blogger Michael Forte

Michael Forte had been a friend and business associate to Tom for years. His friendly voice is the only way I've ever met Michael. Sometimes when he would call Cyberjam, he reached me rather than Tom. Over the years Tom and Michael shared many close conversations about work, career, life choices, and family. Tom truely valued Michael's friendship.

Since Michael is in New York, and mostly communicated to Tom through work, he was one of the dear people that I missed contacting in the blur of events right after Tom's death.

So when Michael phoned a few weeks later on Tom's business line, his happy assertive voice was so comforting, "Michael Forte here, Kitty, can I speak to Tommy?" For just that moment it felt like Tom was alive again. How nice it was to hear that bop in his voice.

It reminded me of a message I still keep on my answering machine from back in early August before Tom died. It was his brother, Mark, calling. "Hey, Tom, it's Mark," it said, with that same happy bop in the voice that Michael had. I can't delete that message. It's like holding on to Tom being alive again. There was something about Tom, that when people called him, they always had that happy tone in their voice. We all felt welcomed by him.

Don't mean to digress, but it's with that same happy tone that I wanted to just hold on for a moment before announcing the terrible news to Michael. I was so touched by Michael's response. He cried. This man that I had never met was so touched by Tom's loving friendship through the work they shared that he wept over the news of Tom's death.

I'm further moved by Michael wanting to post on Tom's blog. I hope friends and family of Tom enjoy reading what Michael has to say as much as I did. Thanks, Michael.

Michael writes...

I really am having a hard time writing this short story about a friend of mine whom I really never met in person more then once, but who grew to be maybe my 3rd or 4th best buddy, even over the hundreds of miles that were between us as it were. I don’t really want to be at the top of a blog page, since the entry by Kitty about Carla made me mist up, it should always be on top. But that’s how these blogs work. It might sound like a bad story in the start, but read it through. You’ll understand how it is just one of the millions of many stories of the great Tom.

I was called into the conference room on a rainy day at work, to meet the new web guys, as I was told. Come to think of it, rainy day was most days in Cleveland, or just wait 10 mins, as the locals would say.

Little did I realize that this meeting would be the beginning of my demise in the firm, since, being hired through a friend who worked at the firm, I was a fish out of water, having moved from the big city, NY, to work for a little company in Berea, OH. I didn’t really like the city much, although it was a great place, just not my speed, so to say. Tom and his partners had great ideas, and were much more able to accomplish the design and implementation of this firms web site then I could accommodate in my position. We didn’t meet for that long, and I think Tom and company, might have gone away thinking I wasn’t too impressed with them and might not advise the firm to use them. He did, however, do a wonderful job and I hate to admit it, he had ideas, vision know-how that I just could not keep up with or even be able to have thought of, even today.

You know the old saying, You get what you pay for? Well, someone forgot to explain that one Tom, because he gave them WAY TOO much for what they paid him for, and he would not do it or have it any other way. Now that I’ve seen the DVD of Tom and his family and friends, and as I read the entries in blogs and knowing him for so long, I NOW understand, that was just how Tom was. He was just being Tom.

I left Cleveland and that company, as I said, I lost my contract and position because of a company like Tom’s, who offered an out source solution that was cheaper then keeping me in-house full time. I would much RATHER it been Tom’s company who railroaded me, at least I wouldn’t have minded him getting the job, lol.

Over those few years that I worked with Tom, he opened up to me about how the internet worked, how to make it work for you and how to play with it and actually became my teacher/mentor/friend IN the web, not just on it. He gave me some web space for my own domain, and helped me register my name. Over the years, he gave me a deal on some internet real-estate, and eventually the hosting of my single namesake domain grew to 50+ sites, and he helped me tweak and massage every one of them, and never asked for compensation, except maybe for listening to his stories about Kitty, the kids, the house, church, football, and sometimes a little geek business.

He eventually let the company in Cleveland move their site to another company, and he as well moved on to North Carolina. BUT, we still talked at least once a month if not more. He always had something to say that made me laugh, or even just his own giddy chuckle would help me crack a smile.

He told me about the kids and the party room that he puts up for them with the blinking strobe light, so, since being in the night club lighting & sound business for many years, who better to enjoy all the left over stuff I had collecting dust in my
warehouse! I still find little lights that I know the kids would get a blast out of, and UPS is only a phone call away.

I knew he loved his family and his kids, his community, his friends, his eCommerce business, his Santa suit and I knew that he loved football and coaching, because, till this day, I still use the password he created for me in my domain registration login. He would always say, think of some great passwords, just like my football plays for the kids. It had a color, a two digit number and a direction, just like a quarterback would call out. Just like green, 99, left.

I login 10-20 times a day, and each and every time, I think of Tom and his laugh. I’ll NEVER change that password!

HUT-HUT-HUT!

A Daddy's Love for His Daughter

Tom loved Carla deeper than anyone can imagine.

I remember the tears he shed over the hurt and pain of his divorce. The devastation he knew it would bear out on Mike and Carla, and on him and on Debbie. And it did. It wounded all four of them.

I would tell Carla how much I would rather that her Dad and Debbie's marriage had been a happy one that lasted and that Tom and Debbie could have raised Mike and Carla together. Carla was so puzzled by this. She knew I loved her Dad, and couldn't imagine how I could wish such a thing.

I tried to explain the trust I had in the Lord, that He had a plan, and that divorce is not His work, but that once that devastation took place, His glory is immeasurable in the healing. So that my being in their lives wasn't a reason for heartache to take place. It was simply part of picking up the pieces and I was happy to be part of their lives.

Tom would describe the nights he would rock Carla as a baby, singing in his silly way his lullaby to her.

When Carla was ill late at night, Tom would stay up hour after hour with her, nursing her to health. He was practically a seahorse, keeping the child so close to him.

During Carla's tumultuous teenage years, Tom struggled so much with his love for her and drawing boundaries. But no matter how difficult Carla could be, Tom was able to rise above it and play and joke and hang with Carla- through thick and thin.

There were several years where Carla hardly called. It was a tough lonely time for her, and Tom missed her terribly. I missed her too. She lived in New Mexico for a while, then in Florida.

With no warning, we got a call from her in 2005. "Dad, I have to have an operation, and I'm all alone her in Florida- no one will be there with me when it's done."

Tom dropped everything. It was the heat of his busy Christmas season in his eccomerce retail business - the trip to Florida cost him a great deal, but it was so worth it. I know that in those final moments of his life, if that trip is something that crossed his mind, I know he was thanking the Lord for putting in him that desire for nothing more than to be with his daughter when she needed him.

His love for her was so pure and unconditional. Only a father could love that way.

Only our Father could love us that way.

Throwing Us in Pillows and Blankets

This particular post was dictated by Christian who is six years old.

"Dad, it was Mommy’s birthday. You were throwing us in the pillows and blankets. There was three big pillows and four blankets. These blankets and pillows were on the ground and he threw us in them.

"We took a picture of Joe when Dad was throwing him and he looked like a ghost in the picture because he went so fast that his arms looked invisible to the camera.

"That was the camera that we could print. Dad got it at Target.

"It felt like we were making brownies when we were being thrown because when you’re being thrown, your tummy feels like it. Your tummy kind jumps and it feels good.
Daddy is real big and he has big muscles and he’s good at fighting.
Sometimes he’d yell, 'Hut Hut 340 340!' "

Dance Pad

Dance Pad, by Joe

At PF Chang’s where Carla worked, the consignee met Dad, and said, "I know you, you’re the DDR Dad. Carla told me about you".

He was really fun to do the Dance Pad with, because, he would always do the easy mode, while Brian and I would do a harder mode.

And he thought he was better at it than we were. But he wasn’t, because he was in the easier mode all the time.

He hooked up a big stereo up to the TV during the dance pad, so that we had surround sound. And he put flashing lights on the dance pad.

One of the dance pad’s arrows broke. He actually took it apart and tried to fix it. He fixed the up arrow so that it would work, but you had to press it a little harder. Then he fixed the right arrow, but now the right arrow does rapid fire if you press too hard. He would set up the strobe light and have it flash while you danced.

Every time a new visitor would come over that hadn’t seen it yet, Dad would let Brian and I first show them, and then he would show them. He knew that we were doing the faster moves and he wanted them to see the "professionals" do it.

I remember the night that he got the dance pad. He told us like a week earlier before it had gotten to our door. When he told us, he said that he got the one that we said was the best. He had listened to us. He didn’t just get the one that he thought was cool, he got what we said was best.
When we did the dance pads, Dad would make a certain face. He would put his top lip over his bottom lip.

Writen by Joe Hinkle

Update - 2012 - Joe has totally followed in Dad's footsteps - check out his new website… http://impactgamesstudio.com/