Tag: family

Sunday, I learned that my uncle, Tom Faigin, passed away at 4:30 AM. It wasn’t unexpected; but it is still a loss. As I did with my father when he died, I’d like to share a few remembrances.

When I think about Tom, first and foremost, I think about folk music. He was a musician at heart. He loved music. He taught music. He was at home playing a guitar, banjo, or mandolin. We shared that love (well, not playing, but of music — I can only play the cassette recorder). He introduced me to so many artists (especially when I digitized his record collection). I introduced him to a few. Although I could never play an instrument, I enjoyed listening to him play (and I’ll enjoy the one CD I have of him). We went to McCabes together a few times (I think he was the one that originally introduced me to Shep Cooke). We also had a lot of folk friends in common, for there are a large intersection between the folk communities and the cybersecurity communities.

He was also the political firebrand of the family. By that I mean that we had wonderful political discussion (especially as we were of a similar political bent). He was connected to the older labor-style Judaism that you don’t see these days. A Judaism more of action — and social action — than anything else. This also came through in the folk music.

In his later years, he was part of a musical group called the Geritones. His daughter is working on a documentary of the group. My memory of the Geritones is when they came to play for a membership recruiting day for Temple Beth Torah. They played a variety of old folk, Yiddish, and other Eastern European music.

I remember that he was an uncle my daughter loved as well. She loved to go over and visit, and as she got older and into Yiddish, they had another shared love. I also felt that her love of Yiddish was genetic, coming from my father and his father before him. Luckily, she was able to share her excitement of her trip to Eastern Europe with him. Alas, she wasn’t able to share her pictures after the trip.

His family suffered a loss a few years ago with the passing of his son, my cousin Nick. Nick, too, was an artist, and I think they shared that passion. Their musical tastes were different (and I’m not sure all understood), but art was in the blood.

He is survived by his wife, Ann, and his daughter Cece, and of course all of us cousins. Of the original four brothers (my father, Adrian; Herbert; Ron, and Tom), only my Uncle Ron remains. May he stay strong and healthy.

Saturday, while I was judging the IEEE Ethics competition, I received a very unsettling phone call. My cousin, Nick Faigin had unexpectedly passed away on Friday morning. Nick was 47; 5 years younger than me. You don’t expect younger cousins to go before you.

Now, I didn’t know Nick closely, although we always got along when we saw each other. The age difference was part of it; I tended to associate more with his older sister. I did follow Nick, however. He had a wonderful poetry blog, and was very active in the club and music scene, doing a lot of promotion of bands. I hadn’t realized how much of an impact he had until I was reading all of the wonderful tributes and testimonials that had been posted on his Facebook page.

Being one of the more computer literate of the cousins, I’m the one fretting over the modern worry: how to preserve Nick’s wonderful digital legacy. The two domains he owns do not expire until October; I’ve already contacted the registrar to figure out how to transfer them to my ownership so I can keep them alive. But other areas are harder. What does one do about his Facebook presence? I’m guessing the account will stay there forever, but it would be nice to be able to post a closing message (I guess we could just write something to his wall). What about other places? His gmail account? Other email accounts? This is an area that is far too new and far too sensitive (another good article, another on turning facebook pages into memorials).

In any case, I’ll worry about that latter. For now, Nick, recognize that you touched the lives of a lot of people for good. This is a great legacy to leave behind, my cousin.