Tag Archives: funeral

That Was 2025

Posted on by under Art, Life

Every year is an amalgamation of the years that came before. While there might be touchstones and specific events keyed to one year or another, no year can be entirely of itself. So some of what follows is tied to this past year, but some of it is from outside of that temporal container. Regardless, I wanted to make a few notes about what struck me and what stuck with me this year without a whole lot of thinking about ranking or hard and fast lists. It’s good to take stock and look back so that the turning to look forward can have some context.

At a great party with former students in Rocheport, MO.

100 Pounds Down

2025 is the year that I lost 100 pounds. On January 18, 2024, I was 291.6 lbs. Today, I’m 186.6lbs. This is a testament to medicine, determination, consistent workouts, and finding ways to manage my own instincts about food and drink and effort. But what changed in January 2024? Why do I think of that as the start of something new? That’s when I began to supplement my daily workouts, efforts to eat and sleep well, and overall stress-reduction with Zepbound.

What it did was take the edge off of my constant feeling of hunger… what many people describe as “food noise” in the mind. Zepbound was the little tweak that enabled me to no longer have an inner insistence that I endlessly had to fight. I felt satiated, FINALLY. My portion sizes went down. My need to just eat everything on the plate – or to have a double or triple portion – disappeared. All of that went away. It became much easier to control my desires in much the same way that antidepressants helped me focus on what was truly important for my family and for my life.

This tirzepatide medication enabled me to turn around years of baggage in my thinking and habitual activity. I was disciplined with working out for nearly a decade, but I still struggled with knowing that it was time to stop eating or drinking. With Zepbound, I was able to do what I needed to do and hear my inner rational voice about what was important. It has definitely been a life changer. My whole world is so much better. Without that extra 100 pounds everything – working out, teaching, playing with my kids – is so much easier and more fulfilling. My knees, ankles, and back feel DECADES younger.

In The Ear and Eye Holes

Another great aspect of 2025 was experiencing (or re-experiencing) some amazing podcasts and movies from a bit of a different perspective. One of the things that I did was watch a bunch of vampire movies with Miranda, my oldest daughter. Seeing those films again (starting back with the original 1922 Murnau Nosferatu and then watching the 1979 Werner Herzog Nosferatu, not to mention a half dozen others) was a unique and dynamic endeavor. It was wonderful to watch those monster and horror movies with Miranda (and sometimes some of her siblings), ask her about her interpretations, and explore how she was understanding all of it. I greatly enjoyed the Robert Eggers 2024 version as well (but I didn’t take my kid to watch that one).

Another powerful experience early in 2025 was when I watched a movie starring Amy Adams called NIGHTBITCH (2024). Based on the novel by Rachel Yoder, it’s “a magical realism-style story of a stay-at-home mom who sometimes transforms into a dog.” I encourage everyone to go watch it. It’s about embodiment, change, parenthood, meaning, self-actualization, and hope. Such a great movie. Amy Adams goes SO HARD in this film… an award-worthy performance.

Amy Adams in NIGHTBITCH

Movie Highlights: Watching The Shining with my kids and seeing Eggers’s Nosferatu in the theater with Jesse. Experiencing NIGHTBITCH on a whim.

In the podcast realm I enjoyed going back through the Futility Closet podcast episodes. This phenomenal podcast is no longer is being produced, but that doesn’t mean they’re out of date or stale. The married team of Sharon and Greg Ross made 365 episodes, then called it quits. The episodes are infinitely re-listenable, there are NO ADS, and the opportunity to be astounded by the world and get inspired to research events is just solid gold. I’m almost done with a full listen-though in 2025, and it was so worth it. Futility Closet really is a cohesive account of global culture and what we try to do as human beings. The writing and the presentation overall are very much accessible. This is not highfalutin fare. It’s not the multi-hour-long episodes of people like Dan Carlin, not a dry lecture about history. Futility Closet gives you tight 30-minute episodes that hit on the main takeaways. They give you the backbone, all the resources so you can look up more, and they’re just really personable, sweet people.

Music in 2025

My students get me hooked on so much good music. This year, these are the heavy-hitters that stuck in my studio rotation. I’m not ranking them, just telling you to get on the train and listen.

Ecca Vandal

Key: Band/Artist – My Suggested Description of Genre

                  Key Tracks (linked to videos)

Big Thief – Alt-Americana-Emo?

                  Vampire Empire (2023), Velvet Ring (2016)

Ecca Vandal – International Pop-Punk/Hardcore?

                  Cruising to Self Soothe (2025), Molly (2025)

Eartheater – Semi-Androgenous-Femme-Alien-Anthemic?

                  Crushing (2023), Below the Clavicle (2020)

Wet Leg – 21st century-BritPop-Post-Punk?

                  mangetout (2025), Chaise Loungue (2022)

Suki Waterhouse – Shoegaze-Dream-Pop

                  Dream Woman (2025), Good Looking (2019)

Pacifica – Argentinian-Girl-Pop

                  Indie Boyz (2025), Anita (2023)

Main point from the music section: Ecca Vandal, Eartheater, and Pacifica need to get PAID.

Seasons In Academia

One of my great joys is teaching. I love working with my students and seeing what they do when they graduate. In 2025 I saw one of my grads, Andrew Long, graduate with an amazing thesis exhibition and text, then immediately get a great job.

Me and Dr. Kerr at her retirement party
In deep conversation with Andrew at a conference

Another transition was the amazing Dr. Barb Kerr retiring after nearly 50 years of teaching and scholarship. It was an honor to be at her celebration party. She’s been such a mentor and inspiration to me.

RIP Dad

My dad passed this year. He was 83. For years I wrote to him with photos and updates in physical letters… and now at least once a week I think “I should write to Dad” only to remember that he’s gone. I’m glad he lived on his terms and did just about everything he wanted to do and not much that he didn’t. And I’m glad I got to speak at his funeral and give him the send off he wanted.

Speaking at Dad’s burial
One of the final conversations we had

Thankfulness

One thing I’m taking away from 2025 is the understanding that I was able to have positive growth and a grateful mindset in my family, job, and art-making in spite of the horror show going on in the world. Straight up state-sponsored murder and genocidal activity on one hand, and obvious grift and obfuscation of the truth on the other, all wrapped up in nationalism and religion. It’s enough to put anyone into a high stress crash-out. But I’m thankful that I’ve been able to find a balance where I can be informed about that stuff and take steps to counter it in my own small ways (as a parent, educator, and community member) without letting it put me in the ground. In 2026 I want to keep living with hope and joy, not through some abstract pie-in-the-sky platitudes, but though real life with my family, honest interactions with my students and colleagues, and deep exploration of ideas and meaning in the things I read, watch, write, listen to, and make.

A Eulogy I Never Got To Give

Posted on by under Life

On February 14, 2016, my sister Denya died at age 47. After my mother’s tearful call, we went into robot mode and made plans to get back to central NY for the funeral. It’s always a trial to get packed, organized in the van, and on the road. It was more trying this time, though, thinking about the reasons for our trip. Part of what I was trying to work out was just what to think about losing Denya.

I was asked to speak a eulogy and I had been thinking about it during the drive – I had a good chunk of it formulated in my mind. So after the calling hours on the 17th of February, we went back up to our hotel room and I began writing down what I’d say.  At least that’s what I have been informed happened, because I had a heart attack in the hotel room fairly soon after arriving there that evening. I forgot much of what happened over the previous few days, with only brief snippets remaining.

Providentially, my wife was right there, as were the many EMTs, nurses, and healthcare professionals who were in our family or friends with my sister. Within minutes I was being worked on and transported to hospital. Though I am nowhere near 100%, every day feels like a bit more has returned.

So now I want to share the eulogy that I never got to give.

**

Denya was the definition of determination, clarity of vision, and kindness of heart. At 16, seeing that our stepfather was abusive, Denya decided to leave home and make her own way. She stayed with friends. She got herself to school and work. She did not allow this provisional stage to define her; she aimed toward college. She didn’t let herself get tripped up by small thinking. She didn’t fall into a spiral of foolish actions and relationships; she was wise. Continuing to work and support herself, Denya went to nursing school, eventually rising through the EMT ranks and working in the intense world of Emergency Room trauma.

imageDenya, age 4.

She grew in faith. She grew in family. She had seen her way through difficult situations at home. She worked toward a vision of education and work and made it happen. She found love in the stability and thoughtfulness of a strong, gentle, honorable man – a man who shared her vision for work and family, for faith and clarity of purpose. In marrying Timmy, Denya truly became an iconic example in my life.

imageDenya and Tim on their wedding day in 1993.

She had already been a great example of hard work and applied education, but now she was living out the sort of teamwork marriage to which I could aspire. Together, Denya and Tim built a home that was hospitable, secure, fun, and a stage for dreams. When I think back on Denya, that’s what I see: faith, family, and fun.

I also see someone who persevered through periods of intense physical and emotional pain – losing Cassandra; struggling with the effects of lupus constantly; and nearly dying when Cassilyn and Elisabeth were young. It was not merely going through these and other things that were important. It’s that she went through them with grace, strength, acceptance, and transformation. These qualities were already in her, and they were focused and made more potent through her experiences.

She – along with Tim – modeled long-suffering of physical pain like no one else I’ve known. She – along with Tim – showed us what good parenting could be: parenting with grace, fun, and high expectations. She – along with Tim – demonstrated gentle guidance, constant availability, and true enjoyment of their girls. She – along with Tim – lived life with joy and thoughtfulness. She – along with Tim – crafted a home life that nurtured not only their own family but also the families that touched theirs.

imageDenya with her girls.

So while her death is horrible and sad, and we wish we could have had many more years with her, in a very real way – at least to me – her death is not tragic. What I mean here is that nothing was wasted. She had no dead years, no years of lost potential. She redeemed the time. She made the most of what was given to her. There were no excuses in her life, no regrets. She didn’t live in anger or sorrow about what might have been. That is a triumphant life – a life full of meaning. It’s a life we can be thankful to have witnessed and been a part of.

Denya’s death is a huge loss. Yet each of us has been allowed to bear witness to her example, to her grace, and to her laughter in some way. Seeing her working at the Super Duper. Seeing her pursue her nursing education and succeed at it. Seeing her Camaro with the airbrushed roses on the sides. Hearing her infectious laugh. Watching her play the Red Queen in a high school production of Alice in Wonderland. Maybe you’re even one of the lucky ones who experienced her jumping out of the twilight shouting “I’M DA BREATHER!!!” at you, scaring you half to death.

imageAn airbrushed rose from the side of Denya’s Camaro.

I will miss you, Denya. I’ll miss your love and faith. I’ll miss your sense of humor and your grace. But I know that these things clearly live on in those who knew you, loved you, and built lives with you. We are so thankful to have had you with us for this time, and we know that you carry on.

imageA recent note from Denya.

**