Memorial for Gene

Gene Hong Kan died on June 29, 2002.  He was my friend, though
we rarely saw each other after he graduated from college.  He was
one of those constants in life that I thought would always be there. 

Gene was both a cynic and a child, quick to condemn the stupidities
in life, but equally quick to repent when proven wrong.  He had a
quick wit and a sharp tongue, with a knack for coining humorous pithy
phrases to describe complex situations.  He was a bright young kid in
college, but was put off by math and electrical circuits.  He collected
fast cars, mountain bikes, laptops, and Wallace and Grommit dolls. 
He was someone who would buy a $600 wide angle lense with minimal
distortion just to take "one of those big-ass panoramic shots",
and subsequently never use it again.  He was easily frustrated and
difficult to assuage.  He could brood for hours about the littlest
things that displeased him, only to be cheered up by the reminder
of some other toy.  

But besides being dour and moody, Gene was also quite a sentimental
romantic, who never threw away any part of his past, even the junk
mails.  My relics of Gene from the days when we shared an apartment
include but are not limited to: a huge rubber band ball, a six-pointed,
sharp star blade suitable for a ninja (bluninja happened to be his old
BBS login), a few textbooks on social psychology and limnology (which
he never wanted to read again but didn't want to sell either), some
dishes stolen from the dining commons in the dorms (which I still use
everyday), a piece of a street lamp, and the original shift knob on
his first BMW M3.  I may never find any use for many of these objects,
but like Gene, I would probably never throw them away either.

Many people heard of his name through his achievements in his
professional life.  I knew him only as an individual, a personal
friend who truly made an impact on my life.  Nowadays, I don't
think of him everyday.  But often, the little things would bring
to mind one of those ridiculous Gene stories, and I would tell
them with a fond smirk.  

Rest in peace, Gene.  We all miss you.