A eulogy to one of the last good people around

For one man, life wasn't about the complex web of stress that I've already started to weave. To truly enjoy himself, he just needed to be with people he loved.

For fun, he'd just kick back with a Mississippi Mud beer and watch an Eagles game. He didn't need e-mail, Websites or DVD players to be content with life. A thick submarine sandwich and a good book on U.S. history made him content. He was the exact opposite of petty.

Jeffrey Kosseff Sweet New Style

Occasionally, he'd go to Atlantic City casinos and try his luck gambling. He wasn't like the high rollers whose dreams were created and squashed in the casinos. He just gambled a little for the fun of it. He loved casinos, but not just for the gambling. He enjoyed the flashy '50s revue shows and the restaurants. He loved the glitz Atlantic City offered. And on Sunday, he died in a casino.

It was too sudden for me to comprehend. He passed out, his heart stopped and soon after the doctors pronounced him dead.

They "pronounced him dead." Is that it? Is that what happens to a good person? He lived lovingly and worked hard for 49 years, only to be "pronounced" dead at the end of everything.

But there's a lot more to his life - something from which we all can learn. I know, and that's why I'm writing a column about him. A column in the Daily - or any newspaper - could not even begin to pay a proper tribute to his life. It's almost an insult to even try to describe him in a given amount of space, but he must be remembered.

Also, I'm writing about him because I can't concentrate on anything else.

While we are surrounded by academics who have made an exact science of every imaginable realm of study, how many of them can teach you how to enjoy life? That's something we all can learn from him.

He tried hard to befriend me, even though I didn't always make it easy. But his kindness prevailed over everything.

When we spoke, whether it was about my pathetic knowledge of Michigan football or a funny episode of "Seinfeld," he made a genuine effort to be kind to me, no matter how standoffish I was. And he didn't want anything in return. That was just the type of person he was.

It was impossible for him to walk by someone holding out a can for donations without stopping. That was just the type of person he was.

When co-workers at his lab were sick, he worked 12-hour days - without complaints - to cover for his friends. That was just the type of person he was.

No matter how tense a situation was, he always knew how to lighten the mood with a joke or a side comment. That was just the type of person he was.

He was a good person.

That sounds like an huge understatement, but a "good person" is an endangered species in today's culture. With information whizzing by and fierce competition a paradigm of society, most people don't take the time out to step back and tell a few jokes.

He took the small things and savored them, rather than hoarding the big pleasures and ignoring them. If more people were like him, the world would be a much more enjoyed place.

I wish I were the least bit like him.

But I'm not. I don't take the time to enjoy the many little wonders life has to offer. I spend my time trying to grab and struggle for the bigger, more prestigious goals. Like so many students, I've gotten caught up in the trivial pettiness of everyday life.

His death drives home the point that life is too short to be spent only reaching and grabbing for huge things. That could be part of life. But if stress consumes every part of your existence, you need to re-evaluate your goals.

That's what I plan to do. I want to be able to savor the small things. I want to be a "nice guy." And I want to make sure I enjoy life before it's gone.

His death has consumed my thoughts. He wouldn't want me to be depressed about it. I'm sorry. I'm not perfect. But I promise I will find my own Mississippi Mud beer, my own football game and my own submarine sandwich. I'm going to learn how to enjoy every little thing life has to offer. Life is too short for pettiness.

When I heard he died in a casino, I hoped he had the chance to see one last '50s revue and gamble a little in the slot machines.

- Jeffrey Kosseff can be reached over

e-mail at jkosseff@umich.edu.

09-23-99