I'm one of the older (and yet luckier) guys that had the joy of knowing Craig - and it was  real joy that would burst from him and envelop you whenever you were in his orb - and what an orb that was.  Craig's presence was humongous, larger than life.  His usual greeting was a giant bear hug - warm and embracing, uplifting and unavoidable, instantly evoking a smile and a sense of well-being.  He could singlehandedly transform a dull and dreary beach day into fun and games - never going less than all out, and lo, the sun would shine!  He had one speed and an unswerving approach to life summed up by the old Star Trek quote - "I'm giving her all she's got... (Scotty)."  Craig gave that and then seemed to find more in some inner place.  During our beach VB games and tournaments, it didn't matter who he was stuck playing with or how many turkeys were on him team, he always gave it all he had, and never begrudged teammates, or their screwups.  For various reasons, I was fortunate to know the man behind the mask - and it was all there.  He was complete.  He exuded a gentleness, a kindness, and an intellectuality coupled with an unstoppable physicality that made him ever so special.  His family and his friends meant everything to him - I am so profoundly sad to lose him as a friend and especially that burst of sunshine that came into the room when he did!  He was a rock to lean on!

Through tears of overwhelming sadness, I share these words by Carol Elaine Faivre-Scott that are especially meaningful to me and help with wrestle with Craig's passing:

Each of us has a hidden place somewhere deep within ourselves;  A place where we go to get away, To think things through, To be alone - to be ourselves. This unique place, where we confront our deepest feelings, becomes a storehouse of all our hopes, all our needs, all our dreams, and even our unspoken fears. It encompasses the essence of who we are and what we want to be.

But now and then, whether by chance or design, someone discovers a way into that place we thought was ours alone.  And we allow that person to see, to feel and to share all the reason, all the uncertainty and all the emotion we've stored up there.

That person adds new perspective to our hidden realm, then quietly settles down in his own corner of our special place, where a bit of himself will stay forever. And we call that person a friend.

Craig, you were my friend.  

Something Ralph Waldo Emerson said also comes to mind when I think if you:  "It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."  So I remember the mirthful and joyful Craig, and the laughter and smiles come driving away the tears!

To Carrie and the kids - we mourn for you and pray that your grief eventually subsides and is replaced by the loving and fond memories Craig brought to each of you, as well as so many others.  Love and prayers from a wounded heart, George 

The thing that comes to my mind when Craig is mentioned is his approach to life. I have many stories, most of them funny, but the story that encapsulates Zimm best to me is a time we were mountain biking in Mammoth. He starts flying downhill with a blind curve and quickly disappears around the curve. I'm not too far behind, but take a more cautious approach, go around the curve and see Craig, 10-15 yards from the trail, upside down, back against a tree and his one wheel still spinning and he's laughing about as hard as he can.

Craig charged life hard. You were either on an adrenaline ride or laughing out loud or both.

We were neighbors with Craig and Carrie for 9 years (Carrie was pregnant with Skyler when we moved in and I was pregnant with the twins shortly thereafter).  I can’t even begin to list the great memories we had during our family hangouts throughout the years. Craig was high energy, larger than life, and one of the most kind-hearted people we have known. The kids remember the wild, limited rules of the “Daddy Daycare” sessions at our house with Skyler and Trent (which were more for Craig and Sergio to bro out than anything).  We still laugh about Craig’s endless mentioning that he knew how to make a good manicotti, which we did finally get to try and it WAS damn good. I can still picture him sitting out on our front porch on one of the tiniest little kid chairs like he wasn’t a giant and it was totally normal, and we treasure memories of countless outings with your family (the zoo, pumpkin patch, trick or treating, block parties,  waiting for HB Santa to roll up…on and on…).

Our hearts break for you guys. We will always remember Craig for the good times and the person and friend he always was to us. 

All our love and heartfelt condolences,

Amber, Sergio, Isaac and Amaya Sanles