It's late on a Sunday, so I hope you'll forgive something that's not really political. I guess it has a tangential connection with my involvement in politics, but it's mainly personal.
I met, well, I'll call him Devon, when I was nine years old. He sort of swooped into my life and rescued me a lot. I was nerdy, short, skinny, poor, etc. Got picked on a lot. Devon was sort of a nerd, and fairly poor, too, but short and skinny? Not so much. He was my best friend, and my protector for years. I got to be big enough to take care of myself, eventually, but he was still my best friend. So much of who and what I am, I can trace back to him. Tonight, I'd like to tell you about him.
I was raised as a very conservative, evangelical Christian. I was pretty intolerant. I've become a very liberal atheist, as I've aged. Devon really planted and nurtured the seeds of that change. I can remember so many conversations with him. I can remember where most of them even took place. I remember the day he laughed at me for thinking Reagan was a hero, or how handily he dismantled my ignorant worldview. Always patient, always teaching, never angry. He was the first person that ever made me apply critical thinking to my beliefs. He was the first person that ever showed me that you can disagree with someone, and still respect them, that the only way we grow is by examining ourselves. I can't even begin to thank him enough for that.
Books, music, movies. I've always been a bookworm, always will be. Devon, though, well, he introduced me to Sci-Fi and Fantasy, to scary movies, to music that my parents hated, hell, to the Simpsons, for gods' sake. I don't even know where the hell I'd be without him. Tolkien, Steven King, Goodkind, Nirvana, Pearl Jam. I might've found them, but he inspired a love for each of those that I still have today.
His family. What can I even say. From the day I met them (and nearly blew up their house), they all but adopted me. They were why he was who he was. They knew I had a shitty home life, and they didn't have a lot, but they treated me like a member of the family. A member of a family that loved and respected each other, that didn't scream, and hit, and didn't make you just wanna go disappear somewhere.
He was even instrumental in me becoming a blogger, indirectly. I worked as a collector for years, hated my job, hated the whole industry. Was living in PDX, watching my relationship with my fiance come apart, despising myself and my job. Six years ago, tonight, I was on my way home from another miserable day. Melissa (the round out to our childhood trio) called me.
"You sitting down?"
"Yeah, driving, I guess that counts. What's up?"
"Devon's gone. He killed himself."
Silence.
"What?"
"He went up to Taylor Creek, and..."
"Oh my god."
I was broken, wholly broken. I went home for a week for the funeral, and to spend time with his family and Melissa, and I cried a lot. He was twenty four.
When I got home, I couldn't open up about it. My depression and inability to communicate it to my fiance, well, they just fueled our downward spiral. I had a panic attack at work, and quit on the spot. Two days later, I moved out of my apartment, and headed to Eugene, where my brother was living. I picked up the pieces, as best I could. I found a job I loved, even though it didn't pay well. I made a promise to myself that I'd never be miserable for money again. I've kept that one, too.
That new job, I spent a lot of time driving. Listened to the radio. Found Air America. Sam Seder. Blogs. Atrios, FDL, digby, mega-kos and mega-Armando. Starting reading, writing once in a while. Made phone calls, wrote letters, registered folks to vote. Tried to get involved, and to get other people involved.
Anyway, I'm just writing to thank him, to eulogize him. I'd not be the man I am today, not nearly, without him. I'd not be here, without him.
Six years is a long time, big guy. I sure do miss you.