Max Robinson Barrie. August 20, 1982 – June 21, 2020
Max was soulful, caring, chatty, hilarious – a writer of keen insight, a painter of satirical Maxterpieces, a mensch. A guy you could lean on who loved nothing more than to be of help. Max had issues and demons and he was complicated – with all the ramifications of that word. He was interesting. He was neurotic as hell. He’d been to the edge. He had a wicked laugh. He did a sit-down stand-up. Dogs saw him as a rockstar. His most notable failing was not being able to take in the love he’d earned from so many. Max broke a few hearts in his time. And today he did it again. We already miss you, Maxo.
