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thephonemenarentreal · 8 days ago

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Enjoy a little heart warming thing I wrote <3

Title: Those Cold Desert Nights Rating: PG SUPER FLUFFY AND CUTE

Warnings: None; Just Silly Camera Talk Characters: Civic, Medic, Paralipsis, Mention Venustas (@pughat TV OC! and sort of response to the writing they did <3)

Summary: The downtime at night seemed to be the time to let the mind wander and the conversation go where it pleased.

Outpost 51 was a lonely speck of a place, especially at night when the heat gave away to a gentle chill. It was during that time that Civic found he couldn’t help but let his mind wandered as he leaned against the railing and just took in the empty expanse of desert and rocks that stretched on for miles around the base.

Times like this, it really felt like they were the last units on earth, forgotten out there in the desert with nothing but the brilliant night sky above, looking like a deep indigo blanket splashed with glitter and colors he had never seen living in the city, and the soft touches of the wind blowing about the gritty sand over sun-baked rocks. The only bit of life that existed was the warm yellow glow of the light coming in from the open door behind him that led to the staff lounge.

From here, he could still hear the chatter of the other members of their little cohort. Tremolo had insisted on playing Risk that night with Prattle, Tattle, Biggs, and the Twins. From the sound of it, Biggs was somehow winning, given how often he was apologizing for having the devil’s luck with the dice tonight. Civic couldn’t help a chuckle at that. Good on Biggs for having a win.

That was something everyone needed once in a while.

Civic swirled his coffee around in his mug that was clad in a homemade cozy and still warm and steaming. He couldn’t drink it, but the familiar weight and warmth of it in hand, the subtle scent that sensors could pick up on brought good memories. A lot of memories of cold mornings in his hometown with snow on the ground and a frost nipping at the nose as he surveyed ground that would need to be broken in the spring for a new building.

Or morning, sharing a laugh with his team as they talked shit on the suits that had come by thinking that if they demanded enough that they would be able to set the concrete for the new sewage drain in a day, defying all the laws of physics, warp time around their deadlines, and figure out goddamn world hunger while they were at it. Good times. Far simpler times.

“Kind of cold to be out tonight isn’t it?”

Civic’s head turned on the swivel as he saw Medic walk up, her arms wrapped about herself as her small frame shook. She looked even smaller than usual without her usual heavy jacket that she wore around, bundled up like a snow bird with only her small camera head peaking out. He only chuckled some, reaching up with his free hand to tug at the scarf he was wearing around his neck.

“Nah, I'm nice and cozy Medic. Got allsa warmth I need right here,” Civic said.

“Just a scarf?”

It's a homemade scarf,” Civic turned to look back out at the desert as he lowered his hand from tugging at the scarf, “So it has a little bit of extra warmth in ever stich, so my grandma used to say,”

Medic tilted her head as she moved to lean against the railing, still shivering a touch, “Heh, you must have been popular for people to make you things like that,”

“Eh, I guess yinz could say that. I jest treated my teams woll,”

No matter where he had been in life, what rank he held, or how much authority he carried, he never forgot his roots. There was pride to be taken in toiling away, building monoliths out of spit and mud and laying the way for people to build homes. Even maintenance work was something rewarding, just knowing he was helping someone out. Civic looked at the mug cozy that matched the scarf, giving a small hum.

“Da one who made this was part of da TV faction. Sweet fellow, if a bit nervous arahnd others. Always could count on him whenever it come to indoor projects,” Civic let his head swivel back out to gaze out over the desert, “Da fact he made and gave this to me I always felt was a lot of courage on his part, small gesture, but meant a lot,”

Medic gave a small chuckle, leaning her head against her arms, “That’s very sweet of them. And sweet of you that you wear his gift too,”

“It's a good scarf and it gits cole aht here a lot. Certainly helps to keep me nice and cozy,“

Civic swirled the coffee in his mug as he glanced over her way, the lens at the front flexing forward just a bit, “Speaking of nice and cozy, wheres abahts is yinzes jacket? Seeing yinz aht at night witout it is strange, expecially as yinz git cole easily,”

The small camerawoman let out a huff of embarrassment, “I left it in my office and the keys were in the pocket,” she murmured, “And only Paralipsis has the spare key and well,” she sighed, glancing away, “I’m putting off asking him for it as I know he is going to have nothing but smart comments to make,”

“He's a smartass. Nothing he says means anything,”

“I know, just,” Medic shook her head, pulling her arms about her a little tighter, “I guess I let his opinion mean more than it should,”

Civic was quiet at that comment and he nearly tried to take a sip of his coffee thoughtfully like he used to do when he still had a mouth to do so with. He had to pause, giving a glance down at his coffee, before lowering his hand away from the danger of splashing the hot liquid in his face. He really didn’t need to do the walk of shame into the staff lounge to clean up and hear Prattle and Tattle make some giggly comment.

Especially when he was turning Medic’s words over carefully and could feel that tell-tale knowing feeling deep in his frame of what was going on here. He wasn’t built yesterday and wasn’t born last week. He had age old experience in many things, one of which was hearing the angst-ridden woes of crushes from the younger folk in his groups.

And damn, was love still a strange thing that took the hands of the oddest people and strung them along.

“I wouttent worry abaht his opinion. If yinz got to worry abaht it, then that person isn't worth spit to yinz, Medic“ Civic said with a small shrug.

“I know that,” Medic let out a sigh, slumping against the railing more as she stared out at the desert, “But I don’t want him to think I’m forgetful or stupid or incompetent or something,”

“Medic? I don't think he would think of that yinz on yinzes worse day,” Civic drawled.

“But how can you be sure,” She grumbled, “He’s impossible to read!”

Civic almost snorted. Paralipsis was not an impossible TV to predict, at least not entirely. The bastard was just a very subtle sort but that was par the course for the TV faction. It was all about knowing the small signs. The little tells that made it clear what he thought about you. Like Civic knew the Supervisor respected him because he left him alone. What biting comments and general ill-manners were reserved for typical conversation when it happened and Civic never rose to any of his bait, never gave him a reaction, so the TV kept far more cordial. Not like with Hubble or Prattle or Tattle where he was a complete menace and vicious.

Or like with Medic where there was obvious something like mean-spirited teasing there. Something that could be akin to flirting if one zoomed in a bit, or at least, maybe it was a TV version of flirting. Civic got the impression that the more mysterious faction of the Alliance had a rather complicated, ass-backwards way of flirting, that probably would take a goddamn research team to figure out. Either they were so socially anxious about appearing weak about having something of an emotion towards someone else that wasn’t indifference or they were too forward to the point you knew more about their kinks than their personality. At least, that was Civic’s opinion on the matter from his experience with them.

Civic shook his head to bring his thoughts back to the conversation, giving a glance down at Medic, “He doesn’t try and destroy every unce of self-esteem you’ve cobbled together, Medic. Seems to me he jest likes to fluster yinz rather than git yinz upset,”

He could hear the slight hum of fans kicking in, the cameraman version of a flush from the systems heating up in shy embarrassment. Such a loud tell and downright adorable as Medic tried to bury the front of her camera into her arms more.

“He’s such an asshole,”

“And sometimes ats a person's type,” Civic teased.

She shook her head against her arms more, a soft whine coming out of her as her fans whirred a touch louder, “My type is not assholes! I want...a romantic sort! Sensitive! That… that is comfortable with being open and emotionally there,”

“Yeah? And yinz can be alls that and a jag off,“

Medic stared at him a bit and Civic sighed, “Jag off… fancy way of saying an asshole,”

“Oh,”

Civic shook his head, looking back down at his coffee which was still warm. The cozy really did keep all the heat in like a warm hug about his coffee. He should send Venustas an email thanking him for the gift and how he was using it to keep things warm on these cold nights. He had a feeling the TV would appreciate knowing that.

“It wouldn’t work out,” Medic murmured, “I think I’m just trying to overcompensate for not having an actual romantic relationship ever in my life,”

“Yinz could be. Or yinz could be having feeling,” Civic glanced her way, “No shame in that,”

“I think it is all the shame honestly,” Medic grumbled, shivering all the more as she wrapped her arms tighter about herself, “I need someone to tell me I’m stupid, to have better taste in people, and to just not even try. But everyone I talk to about this seems like they want to give gentle nudges forward!”

“Everyone yinz talked too?” Civil asked, lifting his head up just a bit as a replacement for lifting the non-existent eyebrow.

“Talked to the Speakermen Chief Engineer,” Medic murmured, glancing away, “For the stupid date thing back at main base. She seem to have it all together honestly when it comes to dating and all that. I felt like a little kid,” The small camerawoman sighed, slumping forward more, “She gave some advice, but I just, I just don’t know,”

“Don’t know what?”

Civic’s head swiveled behind them to the open door and he didn’t even need to look at Medic as she sprang upright like someone had shocked her, turning around and trying to look put together. Paralipsis stood in the doorway, shoulders slouched as ever as most of the halls and doors of Outpost 51 were not made with someone of his height in mind when it was originally built. The large TV man had to dip lower to avoid hitting his head off the door frame, straightening up to his full height once through as he looked down at them.

“I don’t know where I left my keys!” Medic squeaked out, patting at her frame, “Might be in my jacket which I left in my office and uh, that door autolocks you know!”

Paralipsis let out a rasp of a sound that could have been a TV version of a snort as his lulled to the side, a flat expression emote appearing on his screen, “Idiot,”

Civic leaned against the railing, watching as Medic wilted under the weight of that one word and he had to suppress a sigh and hold it in that the insult had no bite behind it. Not even a drop of the usual venom the TV had when he snarled out that world like a knife towards others on the base.

“Think yinz could go git her keys fer her then?” Civic asked idly, “Wit how that game of Risk is gowen, might need a medic on han to rush someone to da ward,”

Paralipsis glanced his way, just a small tilt of the head before he was letting out a loud, aggravated sigh, “Fine. I’ll get the idiot’s keys,”

Medic sank further, looking away, shivering all the more as she tried to appear smaller, “Thank you sir,” she mumbled.

Paralipsis regarded her for a moment before he hissed out a sigh and undid his own jacket, all but dropping it on top of her, “Don’t freeze your systems,” he grumbled before turning back to the doorway, “I’ll be back,”

Civic watched him go as he raised his mug without a thought upwards. Medic stood there, frozen in place, buried in the giant TV’s long jacket for a moment before she pulled it around herself. Her internal fans were thrumming like a nest of hornets had settled inside her, burying herself in the piece of clothing. It was impossible for civic not to chuckle as he rose the mug up higher, not even thinking as he tilted it towards his head.

“Woll, I think-”

“Civic, no mouth,”

Civic paused at the interruption, glancing down as the mug had tipped towards himself dangerously and the lukewarm liquid within threatened to spill out. He cleared his voice as he lowered his mug again, “Woll I think he clearly has a good opinion of you,”

“I guess,”

The small camerawoman looked so lost in the massive jacket, the ends of it trailing along the ground more like an oversized robe. By then, she had tucked it in close, burying the front of her camera against it in an effort to try and hide how embarrassed she was, although with how hard her internal fans were going, that was impossible.

“Woll I think I'm gowen leaving yinz here alone to sort tings aht. He'll be back soon wit yinzes keys after alls,” he said, tone teasing as he lifted his mug towards her, “Don't want to git in da way of wahever yinz are sparking up,”

“Nothing is sparking up!” Medic protested, shaking her head, “And you could stay!”

“Mmm, I don't think I will. Time fer yinz a big brave comera abaht who yinz like,”

“Civic! Please!”

“Have a good night Medic and good luck,”

Medic let out a whine as she pulled the jacket up and over her head as if that would be enough to hide her from the world and her embarrassment. Civic just laughed, shaking his head and finding himself more amused than anything. Whatever those two were on about, it could end in tragedy for sure, love always could end up burned to dust as soon as it ignited. Yet there was nothing wrong with the innocent stirrings of feelings or acknowledging them or trying to see where things could go. Love was always a weird risk to take and there was a thrill to it. Always had been, although it had been a long time since he felt that same warm stirring of what-ifs and could-bes.

Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe it was a bad thing. As far as Civic was concerned, it was a harmless thing that was up to the two of them to work out.

Civic wandered back inside and gave a glance over to the Risk game, watching as Tremolo cackled as he rolled, proclaiming that none could withstand the might of Brazil as Prattle looked like he was about to flip the table. The twins were letting out some classical music, some little song that Civic could recall hearing in a movie before, but couldn’t put his finger on it. It was something happy though, showing that the two were enjoying themselves and weren’t about to start pulling little pranks that night.

He moved over to the sink, carefully taking off the mug cozy and setting the now bare mug in the sink. He held the mug cozy a moment, giving a hum. He would send that email now before he forgot to thank Venustas. Maybe send out a model or two he was working on to the TV and see what his thoughts were on the structures he was designing. Venustas had always been a good sort to bounce his ideas off of, being a fellow model enthusiast. At least the TV wasn’t a bridge he wanted to burn, more one he wanted to keep up and about over the river.

Would be nice to let him know the gifts were being used. Just passing the kindness along.

And would give him an excuse not to have Prattle and Tattle read him like a book that he knew some juicy bit of gossip around the base that they could get their grubby paws on. Civic let out a snort and a shake of his head as he headed to his room, starting to compose the email in his head.

--------------------------------------------

Dear Venustas,

The scarf you gave me has been a lifesaver out here in the desert. Gets colder than you believe but that scarf is keeping me nice and cozy. Same with the mug cozy. Every mug is wearing that like a little sweater, keeping nice and warm. Figured you would like to know they are doing a great job of keeping everything warm out here and are much appreciated.

Might have to send you a little gift in return, given how great they’ve been, so reckon you keep an eye out for that. Hope you are keeping well and aren’t getting too stressed out there. If you ever need a break though, well, got to say, it is quiet out here and nothing but rattlers for miles and they can’t do much. Take care. Sincerely, Civic

#Fanfic #skibidi fanfic #skibidi toilet oc #Civic OC #Medic OC #Paralipsis OC #Not my OC #Venustas OC #Mention of Chief Engineer #Civic and his Pittsburgh Accent #Very fluffy and sweet

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annieqattheperipheral · 1 year ago

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tw: death, funeral

Beautiful article on Adam Johnson's Celebration of Life, includes those from the hockey world who attended and their shared words:

- - -

HIBBING, Minn. — In a small, hard-working town of 16,000 in Minnesota’s Iron Range, where there are streets named after Bob Dylan and there’s a sense of pride at having also produced MLB legend Roger Maris and Basketball Hall of Famer Kevin McHale, there is — and was — only one “Adam.”

“If you said the name ‘Adam’ in Hibbing, everybody knew that meant Adam Johnson,” said Scott Pionk, the father of Winnipeg Jets defenseman Neal Pionk and Wild draft pick and University of Minnesota-Duluth freshman Aaron Pionk. “Like LeBron, he needed only one name: Adam.”

Jim Perunovich, the father of St. Louis Blues defenseman Scott Perunovich, agreed: “Cher. Bono. Everyone knows who Adam is.”

That’s why on a chilly, wet Monday afternoon, some 3,000 people filled the Hibbing Memorial Arena, which was originally built during the Great Depression and stands three blocks from Adam’s old high school, to pay their respects and offer an outpouring of love and support to the friends and family who are reeling right now. Nine days earlier, Hibbing’s “Adam” died at 29 years old playing the sport he loved, cut by a skate blade across the neck while playing professionally in England.

The Nottingham Panthers on Saturday conducted their own memorial, at Motorpoint Arena, where assistant coach Kevin Moore said Panthers fans had immediately taken to Adam — “our best player” – and will “wear his No. 47 in their hearts forever.”

Then on Sunday, Nottingham Forest football player and Panthers fanatic Orel Johnson Mangala scored in the 47th minute of a Premier League victory over Aston Villa — while fans were paying tribute to Adam with a one-minute ovation. Hours later, Matthew Thiessen, the goalie for Adam’s alma mater, University of Minnesota-Duluth, made a career-best 47 saves in a 3-3 tie with cross-state rival University of Minnesota.

On Monday in Hibbing, scores of people walked into the lobby of the arena and were greeted by a picture of Adam flashing his joyful and infectious smile.

There was a condolence book and there were pictures of him as a baby and young boy running around or skating with his older brother, Ryan. There were pictures of Adam excelling with a hockey stick and tennis racket in his hand. There were pictures of him playing with his young nephew and niece and kissing his fiancée, Ryan Wolfe, a St. Francis native who he fell in love with instantly and planned to buy a farm or coffee shop with.

Seeing so many pictures of a happy Adam and hearing the memories of him was a great reminder that Adam is not just a name, not just a stranger causing so many other strangers to argue on social media about how and why he died. And the term “neck guard” wasn’t uttered once Monday, even though Adam’s death may end up causing a lot of good in the game as college and professional hockey players are starting, one by one, to seek out neck protection.

We were reminded that Adam was a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, a cousin and everybody’s best friend.

“Adam truly is and always will be our hometown hero,” said former Hibbing/Chisholm Bluejackets teammate Jake Doherty, one of nearly two dozen speakers to pay homage.

The nearly two-hour service was often funny and more often profoundly sad. And fittingly, it took place on the sheet of ice where Adam used to electrify, in the building he used to fill.

Hockey runs deep in Hibbing, and Adam’s death brought this community together.

Longtime P.A. announcer Dan Marich boisterously welcomed folks into the arena intentionally because that’s the way Adam would have heard it on the ice when he was in the starting lineup. And he ended the ceremony by announcing Adam’s name like he had just scored a goal to draw a thunderous ovation from the crowd as a band did a rendition of AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” – a song Adam learned to play on a guitar he saved up to buy when he was a teenager.

This was not long after the same band caused waterworks by playing one of Adam’s favorite campfire songs, the song he used to love to sing with his best friend, Neal Pionk: the Eagles’ “Peaceful Easy Feeling.”

There were so many poignant moments during the ceremony. Like when Adam’s fiancée, Ryan, read a letter she wrote for him, telling him how much she’d miss her favorite napping partner and sous chef. And when Ryan’s sister, Kylie, read a poem then talked about how her sister sneaked out of a cabin to meet Adam that first night, the same night they apparently burned down a sauna. There were Adam’s nephew, Grant, and niece, Britta, constantly running over to Adam’s fiancée and sitting on her lap because, in their eyes, she is their “auntie.”

Maybe the most gripping moment came when Adam’s old high school coach, Mark DeCenzo, choked up and struggled to even start his speech. Adam’s mourning father, former UMD captain Davey Johnson, stood up, walked down the black carpet and joined DeCenzo, putting his arm around him and helping him get through his touching words.

- - -

Friends came from far and wide.

Winnipeg Jets ownership, led by Mark Chipman, arranged for a charter to fly Neal Pionk, Alex Iafallo, Dominic Toninato and Dylan Samberg to Hibbing for Sunday’s funeral mass and Monday’s celebration. St. Louis Blues defenseman Scott Perunovich also attended both and then hitched a ride with the Jets players back to St. Louis for Tuesday’s Jets-Blues game.

Also there Sunday were Wild president and general manager Bill Guerin, who signed Adam to the Penguins in 2017; Adam’s agent, Pete Rutili; former NHLer and current player agent Neil Sheehy; and Minnesota State coach Luke Strand and Detroit Red Wings assistant coach Jay Varady, who both coached Adam for USHL Sioux City.

University of Minnesota-Duluth coach Scott Sandelin spoke at Monday’s event and brought his entire team and staff. St. Cloud State coach Brett Larson was also there, as was Hibbing High’s hockey team.

Other players seen Monday included Henderson Silver Knights captain Jake Bischoff; the Colorado Eagles’ Riley Tufte; the Bridgeport Islanders’ Karson Kuhlman; the San Diego Gulls’ Nick Wolff and his girlfriend, Sydney Brodt, who in September was drafted by the new PWHL team in Minnesota; Bruins scout Parker MacKay; and former Minnesota Mr. Hockey Avery Peterson.

“Definitely had to be here. All of us,” said Tufte, who rushed back to Colorado on Monday night for a game Tuesday. “Can’t miss this. Not for this guy. We all loved him.”

On Friday night against Ontario, one of Adam’s former teams, Tufte recorded his first professional hat trick.

“The first thing I thought about was Johns,” Tufte said. “Even the way the third one went in: off the goalie, off a defenseman’s shin and in. I know Adam pushed it in. It was insane. Something pretty special.”

Neal Pionk first became friends with Adam playing in the Minnesota high school Elite League, then at Sioux City, where they lit it up on the power play. They lived together while at UMD. Pionk said during the celebration that you knew Adam really loved you if he was unrelenting with his insults.

Pionk demonstrated their bond by repeating one of their last text messages after the Jets lost three of their first four games this season: “You’re off to an abysmal start. Pick it up.”

Said Pionk, “I’ll miss those texts every day.”

Neal’s dad, Scott, whose wife helped plan the Celebration of Life with other family friends, said his son is crushed.

“This is the first time as a young guy that he’s lost somebody that he’s really close to,” Scott said. “He’s shocked. He’s devastated.”

Scott, a close friend of Adam’s dad, first got to know Adam in ninth grade. Davey would every now and then ask Pionk to call his son to encourage him when things weren’t going well hockey-wise. Adam worked at Pionk’s hockey camps and helped him one summer at his landscaping company, so they had a bond.

“He was quiet. He liked to be alone a fair amount. And he liked to do things his own way,” Pionk said of Johnson. “He was a free spirit. I’ll put it this way: He was playfully grumpy. Because whatever you decided, he’d be like, ‘I don’t want to go there tonight.’ And then five minutes later, you’d get him in the car and he was laughing and the life of the party. So he played that role. Guys loved it.”

Adam was a terrific hockey player. He was a beautiful skater, taking after his uncle and fellow UMD alum Gary DeGrio, and ultra-skilled, especially in high school. Guerin recruited him for two years, hoping to sign him in Pittsburgh.

During development camp with the Penguins after his sophomore year of college, Adam met with Guerin and Penguins development coach Mark Recchi. They told him they loved him but to go back to school, have a great junior year and they’d be waiting to sign him after that season.

Guerin then returned to the stands. Hall of Famer and Penguins owner Mario Lemieux walked up to Guerin and asked, “Who’s that kid?”

He was pointing at Adam.

Guerin said, “That’s Adam Johnson. Beautiful skater, isn’t he? We’re going to send him back to UMD and sign him after the year.”

Lemieux said, “Well, you probably shouldn’t let him leave the building.”

Guerin responded, “Are you serious?”

Lemieux said, “Yeah, we need to sign guys like that.”

Guerin and Recchi went back downstairs, grabbed Adam when he left the ice and told him, “We understand we just told you we’re sending you back, but things have changed. Mind coming upstairs and meeting with a small group of us?”

Adam showered, changed and walked into a room. That “small group” was Guerin, Recchi, coach Mike Sullivan, CEO David Morehouse, general manager Jim Rutherford and none other than Mario Lemieux.

When Super Mario tells you he wants to sign you, you sign.

“Hey look, this kid was as hot a free agent as you could get,” Guerin said. “We just loved the way he could move, the way he skated, the way he frankly smiled. Like his teammates loved him. He fit everything we wanted. There was no B.S. to him. He was just a well-rounded, well-grounded, really good kid.”

Guerin’s voice began to crack.

“This is just such a sad story,” Guerin said. “Just so sad. Gone way too soon. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

- - -

The testimonials Monday were beautiful.

Johnson’s old Hibbing assistant coach and good friend Grant Clafton called him a “joyful grump” and said he had to be loving seeing Clafton look and feel so uncomfortable and nervous talking in front of a packed arena.

As funny as that was, he made everybody sob when talking about his broken heart that Adam and the love of his life, Ryan, wouldn’t get to create the life together they so deserved.

Sandelin always told Adam he wanted him to have the puck on his stick 90 percent of the time. He remembered his sly grin, his humility, his care for his teammates.

Moore talked about watching all of Adam’s assists this season for Nottingham and being so warmed by the selfless look and joy he had when his teammates scored.

Ebony Johnson, Adam’s sister-in-law — “not by choice,” Adam would joke — talked beautifully but also got everybody laughing when she admitted that their friendship actually began as rivals when they were each up for a third-grade fitness award.

As she remembered it, she could do more pushups than Adam.

Every speaker’s address touched on a similar theme: This was a tremendous person who also happened to be a tremendous hockey player.

As his cousin and former Hibbing teammate Michael Pechnovnik said, “Heaven’s hockey team gained a heckuva player.”

- - -

Four thousand miles away in Nottingham, Adam’s devastated and shaken Panthers teammates watched the live stream Monday.

It was proof of community, one that Nottingham’s Westin Michaud knows well.

He hails from Cloquet, Minn. — 70 miles away from Hibbing — and played with and against Adam in youth, high school, college and pro hockey.

Michaud was an eyewitness to the incident that injured and ultimately killed his friend and was at Adam’s side until the very end.

Michaud said this has been a tremendously challenging time for him and his teammates but the outpouring of love of support has been heartwarming and there’s no doubt watching Monday’s sense of community helped.

“It’s truly amazing how much hockey has impacted not only my life but also the lives of others who play the game, regardless of their skill level,” Michaud said via text. “It’s a community filled with people who genuinely care for and support each other.

“Hockey is more than just a game; it brings people together, ignites passions and provides a profound sense of purpose. Additionally, it unites communities and validates individuals as part of something greater, nurturing both a sense of belonging and purpose in life.”

Still, Monday was hard. “We’re all cried out. We’re hurting. We’re hurting really bad up here right now,” said Jim Perunovich, who was so broken up after Sunday’s mass, Adam’s mom, Sue, had to console him. “Nobody can understand it, but I guess God needed Adam more than we did.”

But what made Monday beautiful was the laughter, the celebration of Adam’s life with humor and memories, as well as music and P.A. announcements.

“That’s the way we roll up here,” Perunovich said.

There’s something special about the Iron Range, where hockey runs deep. Adam cared so much about the people here. He was proud to be from here and took a piece of Hibbing and brought it with him to the UK.

Tufte, for one, was not surprised at Hibbing’s perfectly executed celebration.

“Good ol’ Hibbing hockey community,” said Tufte, who went to high school three hours south at Blaine but attended UMD. “Can’t beat it.”

The celebration of life was live-streamed.

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