Photo by Anthony Rigano, courtesy of Brett Netson
Tom Romich was a rock and roller. Larger than life. Louder than life too. He was a brother, a reckless, headstrong, brilliant soul who is a legendary figure in Bois~Town music. There was no one like him. There could be no one like him. He could bellow and scream and rumble with anyone, then turn around and break your heart, baring his id and speaking his truth. Everyone has a Tom Romich story. More often than not involving nudity. He was messy and complicated and well loved, and I can’t believe he’s gone.
He departed this dimension surrounded by his family and friends. I’m still processing the loss. He and I were not friends, but we were friendly. We both went back to the 90’s noise Boise band life, and shared the fellowship of those who fought the good fight, against indifference and apathy. To do something, anything, to fill the void. To say that you were there. To go and play as much as you could.
We’re losing too many of our comrades. It preys on your mind. You ponder your own mortality. I’m not afraid to die, but I mourn the loss all the same. That means the mission is to keep living. I mean, really living. The dying will take care of itself.
Take care of your life, even if it’s funny, don’t take it for a joke.