Moving forward.
Some final thoughts and service details.
I lack the eloquence of my dad, but I hope I can communicate the magnitude of love he showed me, my family, and our community. The comments under the previous post and the emails sent have been incredibly kind.
He was always there for me when I lost those I love, handling everything behind the scenes, taking all of the emotional labor with the same determination and compassion that he took to everything else. During my primary school years, that meant helping me through the loss of his dad and mother in law, along with two beloved dogs, while during my secondary years, it involved the loss of his mom, and his father in law, while supporting my mom as she struggled with cancer. It involved entering retirement early to care for his sister when she suffered a large stroke, and handling all of the clerical and emotional labor when she died a year later. He was there for me when Maytham from my secondary education passed, along with James, a fellow Tulane student. And last month, he was there for us when Scout, my childhood dog, was put down.
During all of this, he stood up for what he valued and his family; he didn't let us worry about whether insurance was covering this radiation treatment or that car repair, he reminded us how much we were loved, and he put on bike races throughout the community, especially to invite young people into the sport he loved so much. He set aside much of his life for others, and made the community better off for it.
Publicly, he shared a love of writing he'd fostered all his life, inspired by the articles of Heather Cox Richardson, and guided by his background in education research. He wanted to communicate what he valued - especially in education - in a way that was more digestible than the research he published, one titled "Using Financial Ratio Analysis to Describe the Relative Fiscal Health of Selected Publicly Funded Institutions of Higher Education in New York State." What a mouthful.
Based on the discussions in town, personal notes he received, subscriptions to these weekly Substack articles (many paid), he succeeded. Weaving his academic background and writing ability into a single thread helped him, but I also think it helped the community.
The service will be held next Saturday, May 4th, at 10AM at the East Aurora First Presbyterian Church. Whether you knew him as a supportive neighbor, a kind friend, a father to Aubrey and I, a writer you never got to meet in person, or a cyclist you always wanted to beat, I encourage you to come by and show support to his wife, Kate. There'll be lunch provided at the Roycroft following, and he would've so deeply wanted to connect the people from the different parts of his life.
I love you, Dad.
You did a great job Evan. I am certain you will continue to do so.
For knowing him such a short time—about a year— he really made an impact on me. At my Tuesday night writing classes, he quickly became a friend to all, gracious with his comments, generous with his help. He was insatiably and genuinely curious about what other writers were doing. When we at the Advertiser came up with the idea to have monthly guest columnists in our sports section, I immediately thought of John. He rose to the challenge, even while occasionally calling himself a lazy writer. Great columns. We should all be so lazy. Apparently, he died just minutes after sending in the letter to the editor that’s in this week’s paper. I understand you will continue sending in his writings to the paper. Thank you. I’m so glad to have all his Sub-stack writings. They will remain a comfort. Rest well, John. Thank you for your friendship.