I had the good fortune to become acquainted with Cary when I was assigned to edit his PowerBook Notes column for Macworld magazine. Although I was initially intimidated by his seemingly brusque manner, I quickly discovered that he was very friendly, unassuming, and easy to work with. After his column was canceled, I continued to assign news stories to Cary, first because he knew the technology better than anyone, and second, because I really enjoyed working with him. Over the four years we worked together, we developed a strong friendship and mutual respect.
Cary and I liked to hang out together at Macworld Expos. I remember how thrilled he was when I told him about the Tower Outlet just a few blocks from Moscone Center where the San Francisco expo was being held. From then on, whenever he came to town, that was always his first stop. He'd usually leave with about half a dozen classical CDs, happy as a kid in a candy store. A couple of years ago at the Boston expo, we walked back to the hotel after a Macworld magazine dinner we'd attended, and stopped along the way to watch a juggler performing for a small crowd of onlookers. That same year we also went to a Red Sox game courtesy of a vendor; Cary was much more excited about the prospect of being in one of baseball's oldest stadiums than about actually seeing the game. Of course, we spent most of the time talking rather than following the action on the field.
I've worked with many authors at Macworld, but Cary was the one I felt closest to and had the most respect for--both professionally and personally. Whenever I had a technology question, he was nearly always the first one I asked. But I also trusted his advice on personal matters because his instincts were so accurate.
When he told me last January he'd been diagnosed with cancer, I felt devastated; I was amazed at how calmly he faced the prospect of dying much sooner than he'd anticipated. The thought of his not being around--to talk to, to laugh with, to work with, to ask questions of--was unimaginable.
In spite of his illness, Cary maintained his optimism, his sense of responsibility, and his consideration for others. He was what I call an "evolved" person: someone who understood life's priorities, was free of ego problems, and knew how to put even the most unpleasant experiences into perspective. I'm grateful that I had the chance to know him, to have him as a friend, and to learn from him. He was an exceptional person, and I will always miss him.