23 Dec 2007 1642H

Goodbye for now, Seth

Just wanted to spend a few moments to talk about an acquaintance of mine, former colleague from Viant, Seth Palmer, who discovered he had an acute form of leukemia earlier this year and, all too soon, was taken to his rest last night after a hard struggle. I didn’t spend all that much time working with him, much less socializing with him, in comparison to others, but he left an impression upon me that lasted much longer than our actual interaction.

About seven years ago, in the dying days of the Chicago Viant office and the very tail end of the Sears.com build out, Seth came to us from the New York office to manage a few projects and struck me immediately as an extraordinarily erudite man of unusual ability and talent. He spoke several languages, and as someone who came from the creative side, understood our work well enough to be able to negotiate the rather treacherous corporate environment at that time with considerable aplomb. As such he was probably the best web project manager I’d ever had the pleasure of working with until only very recently. In time, we also learned he held a PhD in another life, and was a gifted pianist and composer, as we discovered one afternoon toiling away on HTML templates, when he played for us a composition he had created for a friend’s wedding. He announced this as if it were effortless, just like everything else he had done. But the way he did so wasn’t arrogant; although he had minor pretensions, they were never without the substance to back them up. And, as I found out one evening with a few Vianteers at Mirai Sushi, at that time, one of the city’s hot sushi spots, he was quite the bon vivant. I remember being quite surprised, in a delighted way, at his worldliness, and I’m not sure why, since, as someone who had traveled the world, had experienced and achieved much, it wasn’t like I was a hayseed myself, but, perhaps what it was was his effortless charm, which showed through in everything he did. There is that famous saying by Morrissey, when he was with the Smiths, on a BBC children’s show, where he said, “We don’t have to be violent, ugly or arrogant, just be charming. And what a pleasant world that would be.” Seth Palmer was that charming man. So much so that I prefer not to think about our differences, or the unfair speed and manner with which our lives were deprived of his presence, but only upon the light he brought into my life and the lives of others no matter how brief it was.

Without irony, I am reminded now of Flannery O’Connor’s story, “The Enduring Chill,” in which the lead character, Asbury, says that the artist prays by creating. As I am not a Jew, and not a direct relation to him, I am not supposed to say Kaddish for Seth. But from one artist to another, I’d like to dedicate this song to him. Although the song is not mine, it sums up my feelings, as it, if memory serves me correctly, paraphrases the Maori funeral sentiment in its lyrics: “In this world, when your time has come, you face all your fears, you stand alone . . . I believe in the kingdom of love, of love.” And I think those words describe most perfectly Seth’s life in all its beauty and terror and courageousness.

Seth, I say goodbye to you, my friend: rest in peace, rest in peace.

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