Not long ago, I was searching for an "idea starter" for one of my clients. They want to do a calendar for the upcoming SEMA show and I remembered a calendar that Milos had designed for the Corrado Club. When the CCA website opened up I was slammed with a rush of memories that I thought I had come to grips with. As it turns out, I haven't.

I met Milos a few of years ago. He called my agency out of the blue and asked if he could stop by and meet me. He wanted to introduce himself to some of the advertising people in town since he was working in a "virtual office" with an agency located in Philly. I told him I wasn't hiring, and he assured me that that was OK--he wasn't looking for a job, he just wanted to get a "lay of the land" (my words, not his). We decided to meet on Thursday at 11:00. Just another interview, I thought.

Thursday brought a tall, pale dude with really, really long hair, a "Dali" moustache and all black dress clothes. The only thing that wasn't black was his stainless-steel portfolio case--a nice touch. We shook hands and as he glanced around my office, he froze like a lion spotting a lone gazelle across an African plain of tall grass. He snapped his head around to me and said, "You have racing seat!" Sitting on the floor in the corner of my office was a black racing seat that I was going to install in my Miata for autocross and various on-track events. Well, we became "best friends" in about 10 seconds flat. We spent the next several hours talking about cars, racing, Mac vs. PC, design philosophies, politics, and if I would be able to get that seat to fit the narrow confines of a '97 Miata (I couldn't). It was the start of a wonderful friendship that I knew would last forever!

Milos was ALWAYS there when I needed a hand or an answer to a question. And he always gave more than you asked. A question to Milos was an opportunity to teach--to help someone learn something new and to open the door to possibilities. Milos loved to learn, but I think he lived to teach. The man had more talent, compassion and "heart" in his little finger than I could ever hope to possess in a lifetime.

On the Friday before Christmas, my father went into the hospital for emergency bypass surgery. A week later my mom had a heart attack while she was home alone on New Year's Eve. They both ended up at a hospital in Sarasota. I took some time off work while I stayed at their house and made the two hour round trip to visit them. It was the Christmas holiday from hell, and I was a basket case. Milos called one day to see how things were going and to tell me that if I needed him for any reason, he would be there in 3 hours. "Just give me the address," he said, "I don't need directions--I will find you." That message from Milos meant so much. It cut through the fog of confusion and despair that had enveloped me and let me know that I was not alone. I knew...I really knew that Milos would be there.

The next Saturday, January 6, I called his house while on my way up to Sarasota. Anne told me that he had been killed on I-95 the night before. Milos' service was filled with friends from all over the country and more than a few got up to say some last words. Now it's my time to honor my friend. Everyone that has met Milos must feel a sense of loss now that he is gone. But, just maybe, he's not "gone" if his spirit lives on. Maybe, we can take a part of Milos that we found special and adopt it as our own. I have always wanted to "teach," but I've been too afraid to "step outside the box." Suddenly it's clear to me: I have the opportunity to touch the lives of others the way Milos has touched my life. I am going to develop seminars/workshops to educate small business owners how to market their product or service. I've spent 20 plus years learning advertising--now it's my turn to teach.

A little bit of Milos lives on...I'm sure he would of wanted it that way.

Mark Coats, The Signature Group, West Palm Beach, FL

August, 2001