A Eulogy for Michael Klug

Hey friends.  I took part in a virtual weekend retreat over the past three days.  It was conceived of and brought to fruition by my college chum, Dayna.  It was about "Personal System Disruptions" and included frank talk, goal-focusing, meditation and what your legacy might be.  Part of that last bit, included creating a eulogy for yourself... part fiction / part fantasy.  But all about what you wanted people to remember about you.  In essence, what do you want your legacy to be, and what do you have to change to make that a reality?

So.  It was my favorite part of the retreat weekend, and as the other eight attendees shared their eulogies, it certainly became a very emotional and touching session (the final of six sessions).  Intimate and vulnerable, but enlightening.

But before I share my eulogy (which was a great joy to conceive of, write and then share), please check out my friend Dayna's website.  It's all about her personal journey, in light of some very trying times for her and her husband, over the past year or so.  And so she wants to help people, with ideas like "disrupting their personal systems"... indeed, challenging the status quo in our lives and reaching high and far to achieve dreams, both old and new.  But what's standing in your way?  Lots of questions we need to ask ourselves.

https://extraordinaryextraordinary.com/

Keep an eye out for Dayna's upcoming retreats.  I was part of the maiden voyage and I highly recommend it.

And now, here's my eulogy, as shared with the group:

If there’s one thing you should know, or remember about Michael Klug, it’s that he loved zombies.

Zombie movies. Zombie toys. Zombie books. Zombie video games. Zombie apocalypses – real (remember 2035, jeepers!) or imagined.

At an early age, via exposure to the horrific visions of filmmaker, George A. Romero – Michael set out on his lifelong love of horror, and specifically, that of the walking dead.

It informed his nightmares, his writing, his career, his friendships and yes, even his love-life (don’t ask).

Via an undefined, primal fear of flesh-eating monsters, Michael found out who he was. He then embraced this fandom, took it beyond just a hobby and stalwartly followed that path into the darkness of monsters.

The trajectory of his writing and his life (his first short story, completed at age 10, was a piece entitled “House of the Dead”) was simply never in question.

What did evolve from that initial interest, was his recognition, like that discovered many years prior, by Mr. Romero – that the zombies and the physical danger they presented, were wholly incidental to the problems humanity creates for itself – in family dysfunction, civil unrest and poor communication. It was never the fault of the zombies – they were just following deeply-ingrained instincts to consume. It was the humans and their faults which always led to their downfall.

By telling these stories of families and their unhealthy relationships, against the backdrop of mindless, shambling corpses overtaking the world, he discovered his own shortcomings, his own neuroses and his own personal obstacles. Certainly, these writings were a form of self-therapy, but ultimately – these decades of work in the writing field, opened his mind and eyes to the fact that he was no different from his fellow humans: Damaged, but not beyond repair. But those necessary repairs, would not come easy.

So as we stand over Michael’s grave on this blustery fall afternoon, to say our final farewells – make note of the fact that those muted knocks from within this casket – are nothing to worry about, for it was Michael’s last wish that he be the very first human to actually return as one of the undead. That’s why cremation was simply not an option.

But have no fear. He won’t be out to feast on your flesh, or to pry into your skull for some juicy brains. No – he just wants to add some additional time to his clock of existence to watch more zombie films, to pay further tribute at the altar of Mr. Romero, and to take some adt’l deep dives into his own zombie fiction, now armed with amazing insights into the real thing.

At his life’s end, and at this new beginning, we sturdily place Michael on the same pedestal as his former idol. Taking the lead from Mr. Romero many years after Romero’s sad demise, and continuing Romero’s legacy of the undead and making it his own, Michael made flesh-eaters personal (in every sense of the word) and single-handedly revived this long “dead” horror subgenre.

Michael… as you stand there side by side with George in the murky haze of “are we or aren’t we dead?”, we know that you will – at the same level of productivity, ingenuity and adoration as George – shamble off together into the sunset, “brain”-storming some new ideas about how best to dispatch a zombie and welcoming the next generation of zombie artists, undead experts and flesh-eater fans.

Michael leaves us for this new chapter, having won two Oscars (one of which was the first ever for a zombie film), three Golden Globes, a handful of BAFTA’s and a Pulitzer for zombie literature (a new categorization to accommodate the ever-expanding “zombie storytelling” movement, which he worked tirelessly to grow).

We wish his widower well, as he deals with the daily dusting of their houseful full of collectibles and the reorganization of their palatial home to allow this “differently-abled” Michael easier access.

And one final reminder, fellow mourners. When you see him, please don’t shoot Michael in the head. He’s just trying to remain productive.

Rest in your new undead flesh, Michael.

Thank you again, Dayna.