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Michigan life!

Caren

Aaron’s Smile

Stacey Kinney

For Aaron
My Lifelong Friend, My Fellow C-Suite Member

Aaron,

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I wanted to say to you today.
And, honestly, there are probably a million things I could say.
But there is one thing that keeps coming back to me.
The C Suite!
Now, I know when most people hear “C Suite,” they probably think of CEOs, CFOs, and executives in fancy offices.
But for you and me, Aaron, the C Suite means something completely different.
Actually, it means 3 distinctly different things.
The first C I think of is Club Kids!
Because this is where our wonderfully ridiculous friendship started.
The first time I saw you, you were wearing that metal spike collar, a “Cat in the Hat” hat, and some overly wide legged pants doing an Aaron jig to industrial music.
And somehow, instead of thinking, “I should probably stay away from that guy,” my brain said,
“Yep… I NEED to know this person!”
And then we just kept running into each other:
Top of the Rock.
The Orbit Room.
The Reptile Room.
The Intersection.
Martha’s Vineyard.
YesterDog.
Raves.
It seemed like no matter where I went, somehow there you were.
And eventually, Aaron,
you became one of those people who wasn’t just someone I kept running into.
You became someone I WANTED to run into.
 

Then came the second C.
Culinary Comrades!
I still remember standing in Chef Rango’s introductory to bakery class; seeing
you waltz in that first day all disheveled.
And I think we were both equally relieved to see a familiar face.
Because let’s be honest… Culinary School…was…an…EXPERIENCE.
There were early mornings.
Long days.
Stress.
Exhaustion.
Hangovers.
And, of course, plenty of opportunities for me to somehow get you where you needed to be.
I would sweet-talk our instructors so I could come get you.
I’d dress you.
I’d drag you to our 6:00 am class.
I’d make sure you got to work after class.
And I’d even make sure you got home safely, when I could.
Because, let’s be honest, Aaron…
A very tall man walking around Division Ave at night in a Donegal Men’s waterproof bush coat was…
well…
Something To Behold.
And I have to tell you, one of the things that made me smile over these last few years was coming across one of those jackets when I visited you.
Every time I see one, to this day, I think of you and smile.
Because that’s what you gave me.
So many little memories that can still make me smile even when missing you hurts.
It wasn’t until our last round of connecting that you told me that I had been your best friend during culinary school.
Buddy…
You Were Mine, Too!
I wish I had known that sooner.
I wish I’d had more time to tell you just how much that meant to me.
 

And then came the third C.
The one neither of us ever wanted to be part of.
The Cancer Crew!
For the last three years, you and I talked about almost everything.
Our lives.
Our kids.
Our spouses.
Our past adventures.
Our mistakes.
Our decisions.
Our regrets.
Our futures.
And, yes…
DEATH.
We talked about death a lot.
Probably more than most people would consider normal.
But that was us.
We could talk about the hard stuff.
And Aaron, I want you to know how proud I am of you.
I’m proud that you showed up.
When I came wanting to bring the party to you, you had lost all of your spark.
And I don’t know if you realized how much it meant to me that you let me be there.
I couldn’t fix it.
I couldn’t take the cancer away.
I couldn’t change what was happening.
But I could share my cup with you when yours was empty.
And somehow, along the way, you filled mine right back up.
We trudged down the cancer path together.
And I am so grateful that you let me walk it with you.
You and I always had this understanding that words weren’t necessarily your thing.
But over those last three years, you shared so much with me.
And I treasured every bit of it.
You trusted me with pieces of yourself.
And I will carry those pieces with me for the rest of my life.
 

You and I talked about the decisions we’d made in our lives.
And I remember being so happy when you told me that, given another chance,
you would make the same decisions all over again.
Especially when it came to E.
Aaron, I am eternally grateful that you met her.
She was your love.
Your rock.
Your guardrails.
Your Person!
And so much more.
I don’t know where either of us would be if we hadn’t eventually found the people
we were meant to find.
Because, let’s face it…
Our original life plan was pretty much to enjoy the NOW of the ’90s and early 2000s and worry about everything else later.
Somehow, we survived that plan.
And somehow, we ended up with families, spouses, kids, responsibilities…
and lives that turned out to be so much bigger than we probably ever imagined.
But through all those changes, all those miles, and all those different chapters, there was one thing that never really changed.
I showed up out of the blue.
For our entire friendship, I showed up when you needed me.
Sometimes I knew why.
Sometimes I didn’t.
But somehow, I always knew when it was time.
And Aaron, I want to thank you for letting me show up—even when showing up meant doing it from a distance.
You were in Michigan, and I was in Maryland.
You were in Chicago, and I was in Los Angeles.
You were here, and I in Indianapolis.
The miles changed.
The states changed.
Our lives changed.
But somehow, We Never Lost Our Friendship!
 

Thank you Aaron!
Thank you for letting me come get you for 6:00 a.m. class.
Thank you for letting me make sure you got to work.
Thank you for letting me make sure you got home safely.
Thank you for letting me bring the party
when you needed a little more life brought into the room.
And thank you for letting me show up during the hardest part.
Because being your friend was never about only showing up for just the good stuff.
It was showing up for all of it.
The fun.
The ridiculous.
The stupid.
The hard.
The scary.
The heartbreaking.
The shitty parts.
And Aaron…
there is nothing better than having a friend who is willing to share the journey with you!
Even the shitty parts.
I’m grateful for every single chapter.
I’m grateful for every weird place we ran into each other.
Every adventure.
Every conversation.
Every laugh.
Every ridiculous story.
Every early morning.
Every jacket.
Every hard conversation.
Every time you let me into your life.
And I’m especially grateful that you gave me one last visit.
One last chance to sit with you.
One last chance to bring you…me.
One last chance to wish you a safe journey.

 

Aaron…

I know I should probably be here today,
standing in front of everyone,
reading this aloud and being quiet and reflective.
But… I NEVER DID LEARN HOW TO BE QUIET!
That was a YOU thing.
And honestly, you’d probably be a little disappointed in me if I suddenly figured it out now.
So instead of sitting quietly tonight and pretending I’m not completely heartbroken…
I am doing what you and I always did.
I’m going to go find some music!
I’ll be at a concert tonight.
And I already know what’s going to happen.
When Mason plays “The Beautiful People,” or Zombie plays “More Human Than Human,”
I’m going to have tears running down my face.
Because every single time I hear those songs, I see you.
I see you dancing away.
I see that ridiculous Aaron jig.
I see that fellow Club Kid with the metal spike collar wearing a “Cat in the Hat” hat
with a mile long scarf wrapped around him.
I see you exactly the way I want to remember you…….
Alive, Loud, Dancing, And Completely Unapologetically You.
And while those tears are running down my face tonight,
I know there will probably be a part of me that laughs, too.
Because that’s my brain.
Besides, you’d probably tell me to stop crying and to …
enjoy the damn concert.

So I will!

I’ll dance.
I’ll probably talk too much.
I’ll probably think about you the entire night.
And I’ll carry you with me in every song.
 

Because that’s the thing about a lifelong friend, Aaron.
You don’t really get to leave.
Not completely.
You become part of the soundtrack.
Part of the stories.
Part of the places.
Part of the people we become.
And you’re going to be part of me for the rest of my journey.

Aaron…
I don’t know what comes next.
Neither of us ever really knew.
But I hope wherever you’ve gone, your spark is back.
I hope you’re dancing that ridiculous Aaron jig somewhere.
And I hope you’re causing just enough trouble to keep everyone around on their toes.
Most of all, I hope your journey has been a good one.
Even though I’m not there beside you…yet.
Because…you know me, and you know as well as I do…

I’ll catch up!

Wherever we meet again, I’ll find you.
And when I do, I’m sure you’ll have some story to tell while sipping coffee and eating cheese.
So, until then, Aaron…
Thank you for being my friend.
Thank you for being my Culinary Comrade.
Thank you for being my fellow Club Kid.
Thank you for being my fellow member of the Cancer Crew.
Thank you for trusting me.
Thank you for letting me show up.
And thank you for filling my cup every single time I got to spend time with you.
I miss you, friend.
More than I can put into words.
But I don’t want my last words to you to be about goodbye.
So instead…
 

Godspeed, My Friend.

May the knives always be sharp…
and the cheese even sharper.

Love always,

Stacey – The Party Bringer

Stacey Kinney

I was always so in awe of Aaron’s easy way with his boys and the wild groups of boyscouts he mentored. Lighting fires, shooting, camping, whittling with actual knives—nothing daunted him. He was a real outdoorsman who taught our family how to tap and make maple syrup. He led all sorts of game nights and adventures with our boys. At home, he allowed each of his own boys to follow their passions and supported them however he could. Aaron was a warm and generous man who saw other people’s struggles and asked “how can I help?”
Toward the end of his life I tried to help Elizabeth where I could and was struck to my core by the energy, love, and selflessness she poured into caring for Aaron. The photo of the clasped hands is of Aaron and Elizabeth in Aaron’s final week. I have never seen a more powerful testament to love.

Laura K

I made you one final breve cortado today. Let it sit in your spot till close. I’ve only been at madcap for only a year and was your barista for even shorter but you were always so nice, and I knew i immediately liked you with your Palestine pin and lbgtq+ pin. I loved yapping about video games with you and always loved to ask what you were playing or replaying like balders gate 3 and how much you loved it. I’m so glad I got to show you games I like and anime too. It makes me happy you found comfort in the cafe even if you weren’t having a good day or just needed the company even for a just a little bit. Thank you for always brighting up the day anytime you came in. I’m so glad I was able to get to know you it’s truly been a pleasure. Oh I built a pond with a bunch of native flowers around it, I would have loved to shown you pictures because you always loved being with nature. Your energy is with earth now so you can rest easy.

Willie Soto

·

R.I.P. Aaron Stek
.
I am not the person qualified to fully eulogize Aaron. We were great friends, both in Ann Arbor and particularly in Chicago but geography and let’s just say it, Cancer Treatment for both of us, limited our visits the past 10 years.
Still, he always checked in when he visited the Restaurant Show or brought the boys and Elizabeth to town. Many times we heard the Chimes at Midnight together.
There are anecdotes. When we were teamed at Panozzo’s he would once in a while nod off on the Green Line coming in from Oak Park and text me, ‘Sorry D. I’m down at 47th Street, I’ll be back soon’.
We had a going away party at the Pre-Penthouse when they moved and I had put down a big piece of canvas with a pile of markers and crayons for the kids to obliterate it, which they enthusiastically did.
Aaron walked over with a large red crayon I had got out of a warehouse in Rouge and held it up.
‘D, can you read that?
It was ‘labeled ‘Lead Crayon’ and Aaron gestured towards his youngest, still a toddler prone to eat such things and arched his eyebrows.
‘Oops?’
Aaron and I were closest during the Weird Year between ‘Diners, Drive-ins and Dives’ filming an episode on us, which I had to vigorously campaign for after the owner’s wife blew off their first call and, because of a lawsuit between Guy Fieri and the original production company did not air for over a year.
So, I had ‘Saved’ Panozzo’s and then had to wait with Jitters hoping we didn’t go out of business before the show.
Aaron during that stretch was working full time and many, many of those somnambulant days we worked Coast-to-Coast alone and had some of the greatest, endless, always digressing conversations.
He was profoundly wide read, curious and empathetic but we’d taken very different avenues through History, Philosophy. He was scholarly, bottomlessly optimistic and I was on the other side of the street with Baudelaire and Nietzsche. It was good Contrast for Civil Debate.
Ellen, the aforementioned oblivious wife, was also there, standing at the cash register, never joining the conversation, grinding her teeth, occasionally chiming out – “Hearing a lot of Chit-Chat’, as if we were not working hard enough.
Towards the End, when I knew I was leaving even after the show came out and doubled our business, I replied to her, ‘This isn’t Chit-Chat and if you didn’t have us here working, you’d be sitting at home alone watching ‘Days of Our Lives’.
Anyhow.
This picture of Aaron is from those incredible portraits Josie Anne made for ‘Z 1/2’.
Aaron zinged me really good once about the Deli Movies.
‘D, do we just make these because you couldn’t make a Real Movie?’
And I replied, ‘Fuck You Aaron’.
I loved him. Elizabeth and his sons, whom I nicknamed the ‘3 Thors’ and encouraged musical training but their jam was being Spinally Outdoorsy, like their papa. They will Soldier on.
Besides Military Service, I don’t think there is any more fundamentally, intensely-humanely, bonding experience than working in a Restaurant. You hit every day at an appointed time, you get your Flowers or Raspberries immediately, clean up and Do it Again.
It was a Privilege to know Aaron and his Family.
I formally request the rest of you just stay alive until I am not. I’m tired of writing these things.

Darin Latimer

Aaron and the family came over one day just to hang out in the middle of the summer. We heard an ice cream truck and the two of us chased it down the block and got ice cream together before he left. I think about it every time I hear the ice cream truck.

Lee Stek

Photo from a fundraiser event Aaron and I did back in 1999ish.

RICK

Dad: really doesn’t want a cat. Family: gets cat anyway. Dad and the cat:

Henry

One of my favorite scouting moments was when Aaron spent most of the weekend working with the boys on the cooking merit badge. What should have been pure chaos of 10 or so boys trying to cook, was filled with laughter, and great food.

We were all amazed when he took garbanzo bean liquid and made a vegan whipped cream for dessert.

Brian Spratke