It has been silent of late because Michael had a fall and broke his hip. He has been falling for some time now, but his stumbling was disguised as he appeared to be active. Since he lived in an apartment in downtown LA, it was far away from many friends to visit. Like everyone these days, communications is via the internet.
Michael didn’t invent “old man rant” but he contributed a fair amount to that theme as he commented about the process of growing old. He did invent “After Age 60,” that was followed by statements and sometimes questions that seemed to be truisms. He taunted people to respond and delighted when they did, mostly.
Michael wasn’t the dog who loved to bite, but he was a friendly pet who would not let you get away with uttering some sloppy thought. He was known as the consummate editor.
Michael knew that one size didn't fit all, so he adjusted his editing style to individual clients. Speaking about clients, if you are one of those that spent time in his studio or made an appointment and didn’t show up without cancelling, or if you were late as if he had nothing else to do, you might well expect to get a bill charging you for timewasting.
Michael came to California from Ohio being rich in talent and sound engineering skills. He could sing, dance, announce and do voice overs and such, but made his living as a behind-the-scenes professional who made “talent” sparkle before the cameras.
Like many “Hollywood” technical craftsmen, Michael’s heavier business days were behind him. He had a love in his life once who gave him a son. He loved his son and cherished being a father. He had other loves in his life, but Michael was eccentric and had some habits that are best described as urban rustic.
The sad part of Michael’s story, besides his dying, is from his storytelling about his solitary life. Some of his friends said that he was lonely. He undoubtedly reached to some of his “girlfriends” on Facebook as he enticed them with his gourmet chef abilities. His plates were works of art that sometimes featured rare Russian-sourced caviar and other extravagance. One might conclude that Michael would rather have one excellent meal every few days than to have a steady diet.
He got furious with me personally when I made light of his live-action FB report of a prowler in his yard. The prowler was carrying a gun. I didn’t understand at first that it was a real situation.
Instead of calling the police, Michael began an “old man rant” about the fact that someone was carrying a weapon on his property where guns are not permitted. It was an infraction of the rule that riled him as much as the gun itself.
It was not a funny situation and this was serious business. “Call the police, Michael.”
“I am watching him, right now,” he said.
On a day that may have been his anniversary with the Mother of his son, Michael treated himself to dinner in Beverly Hills at Lawry’s Prime Rib on La Cienega Blvd. In stories past, he often mentioned various prized possessions in addition to his white Caddy. One was a white linen jacket that he had dry cleaned recently. It was a style from year’s past, and may have had a scorch mark from a cigarette and such. For special occasions, he wore the jacket and probably his best tennis shoes.
He sat at a table where he once had a lovely experience, and he enjoyed an excellent glass of California wine while eating rare prime rib. He lamented that it wasn’t as good as it once was. However, this evening packaged a memory that he savored.
I can see him now, sitting alone, sipping red wine while observing other patrons enjoying their experience.
“You buried the lead again, Yank,” said Michael from on high. The story is a "do over".
OK, Michael, keep the edits flowing; a deaf man can hear you down here.
Keep the edits flowing
RIP Michael Krupnick
Love to a good friend.
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