No brakes, no steering, and one forward gear.

This is how we travel through time.

There's no wheel, let alone anyone at it. And billions around us taking the same ride, with the illusion of control as our travel companion.

This is a reaction after a friend's memorial service. If you're not interested in a bit of a ramble, leave now.

I first met Ed in 1993 - he and another soon-to-be friend were waiting for me in an online editing room I'd just been asked to step into and drive on some evenings by a colleague after more business. They had a documentary they were looking to edit.

The subject matter? The history of Irish music (and dance) in America since the mid-1800's.

We spent many long hours working from "paper edits" - the ancestor of today's digital ease of finishing.



The docco, Far Away From the Shamrock Shore, was quite well-received, and ran on many PBS outlets across the country.

Among the featured artists were The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem.



He then went on to produce another Irish music show, this one a live theatrical event:



I switched that one, and edited it too...

Ed then changed gears, and introduced me to a puppet maker. We worked for some time on a never-finished pilot, left things fallow for some years, and then reunited for the web-based TVTV, though by this time Ed was not involved.

He and I were also involved in a pizza delivery joint for a couple years, and stayed in contact for a while after selling out to some employees.

Then, with time, we began to drift.

It had been some years since we'd spoken, and one night on Facebook, I read a friend's posting, mentioning Ed's death from far-too-recently diagnosed cancer.

There's a small empty spot in my life now, and a giant one in Alice's, and their son Rory's.

And the other friend I found from working on Shamrock Shore is now in the Pacific Northwest, and I had an unhappy moment breaking the news to him.

The drift is as much on me as anyone. Don't let it happen with people you're close to.



And raise a glass to Ed McGrath sometime. A good man gone too soon.