For eight years, I’ve spent almost every Sunday night with Charles. Of the 363 episodes of the Mac Admins Podcast recorded, I think it’s possible he’s been on more than I have. In fact, it was really his idea. 

We were walking into the pub at the speakers’ hotel in London for the first MacAD.UK, and he said it out of the clear blue sky, “Hey, we should do a podcast! About Mac Stuff!” In his typical Charles fashion, you could hear the exclamation marks in his voice. He was excited, often, and that was the sign of a good adventure to come.

We’d known each other over the Mac Admins Slack for a while, and from email lists and conferences before that, but we’d never worked together. Charles just drove right in, though, and before we knew it, we had a whole bunch of people working together for the first time. Marcus, Adam, Emily, Pepijn, and I were the first round of the Podcast.

Most of our scripts started from Charles’ keyboards, and a lot of our great discussions started with a question from him. He often knew instinctively what to ask, where to prod for a great answer, and how to spur discussion. 

Of all the people I’ve ever worked with, he was the smartest. Charles would dig in on a topic, and with seemingly effortless ease – if it was ever tricky for him, he hid it well! – become an expert in a matter of days, if not quicker. His understanding of the MDM protocol is legendary, not to mention the internals of macOS, and of cryptography, of the history of computing and computers… the list is nearly limitless.

His blog at krypted.com was the starting place for a whole generation of Mac Admins, because if there was something Charles always did after digging in on something was to share it. He wrote conference talk after conference talk, he wrote volumes and volumes of books, and of course his blog was one of the cornerstones of Apple blogging.

We almost lost Charles a year or so ago, and he barely took any downtime in recovering, it was who he was. Always tinkering – he was an avid 3D printer, constantly working on his mini figure collection for the games he played with his friends in the Twin Cities – his hands were seldom idle. He would often join the call for the podcast with magnifiers on, looking like a wild-eyed mad scientist, which he no doubt was. 

I don’t know what we’ll do without him.

But I can tell you how I’ll remember him, always. Charles always had a kind word for people. He always would take your call. He was the kind of friend who’d drop everything to help you, or to see if he could connect you to someone that could if he couldn’t.

I will miss his levity, his wisdom, his inescapable drive for knowledge, his passion for his friends and family, and his humbleness. 

And all of the incredible stories we got to tell together.

Vale, my friend. We can’t do what you did as well as you would’ve, but you’ve shown us the standard we can strive for.

And we will.