Greetings friends,
In this, the last blog entry, I am posting the eulogy that our friend Debora wrote and delivered during David's memorial service. Many of you asked for a copy of it, and it is a beautiful tribute to David.
There is nothing in this life that does not remind me of David. While the children and I are struggling with the emptiness of our lives after he died, I take comfort in the knowledge that he lived a rich and full life, and was blessed with more true friends than anyone I have ever met.
Peace and love,
Monika
Eulogy
"I am beginning with a poem that Monika wrote for David:
Phone call to my husband
A thousand miles from home
I walk a beach, look for
sharks’ teeth and shells,
talk to you on the cell phone.
your voice against the hum of the ocean
brings me the contours of your face,
the muscle and tendon
of our unity. As you speak
I find dusky cones with creatures
still inside, their flesh
foreign, vulnerable,
those I throw far into the sea,
and you tell me of the peace march our children went to
and the dogs chasing each other in the snow.
Later I lay out my collection of shells,
Ponderous Arks, Fragile Surf Clams,
Spectral Bittersweets,
whole and broken, together
they seem a map of our lives
the surviving parts.
The slow builders and destroyers
of all the world’s structures,
patiently having left their
signs and markers for us to find.
Monika Andersson
Monika, Lucas, and Amanda, Dorothy and Jimmy, Sandra and Mike, and all of David’s close network of in-laws, cousins, nieces, nephews, and godparents from his Worcester childhood
And to - Linnea, Margaretha, and Hakan from Sweden,
We as friends, colleagues, artists, teachers, and students, have gathered here together as one family to offer our deep and abiding love as we pay tribute to and mourn the loss of our beloved David.
The past two and a half years have been difficult, spent suspended on a tightrope between mountains of hope and heartache. Yet, through it all, Dave shared his journey, exposed us to the very core of his humanity, and taught us that even in the most turbulent of times we can learn from each other, laugh together and that the courage and honesty that Dave and Monika have made available to us have made us wiser, stronger, and less afraid.
In a passage from the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, a book Monika and Dave have both found comforting, Sogyal Rinpoche says,
“So each time the losses and deceptions of life teach us about impermanence, they bring us closer to the truth. When you fall from a great height, there is only one possible place to land: on the ground, the ground of truth. And if you have understanding….then falling is in no way a disaster, but the discovery of an inner refuge. Difficulties and obstacles, if properly understood and used, can often turn out to be an unexpected source of strength ”
In the hospital room at Emerson in those first days, a doctor came in to confirm the cancer and answer questions. The best treatment options were the fine doctors at Mass General, she said solemnly, telling him that if he were her own brother she would send him there. Then Dave asked in true Dave character: “ Ok, but let me ask you this, do you like your brother?”
And so it went over the course of the next few years, his humor and sharp wit mixed in to ease the tension and make it bearable in the most difficult of situations for anyone in the room.
And he always brought it down to a personal level, asking one doctor if he would do a risky procedure if it were his own son. Even busy doctors were drawn to him and could be found chatting at his bedside, having long, philosophical conversations about life.
They were inspired by his genuineness and his willingness to brave uncharted territory in the hopes of a continued life.
Before the risky surgery to put in a stent, Dave said to the surgeon, Dr. Calva: “Remember Doc, if you get to the point where you feel you should stop, keep going. Just keep going.”
Dr. Calva called him a brave man, one that furthered medicine, letting them know that procedures could be done much further along in a course of a disease.
Dave came from a wonderful, small family in a close-knit Albanian community in Worcester. Even from his childhood experiences photographing birds and identifying animal tracks Dave had a love for the natural world. He grew up next to conservation land, and even now when you look in his studio you can see collections of twigs, bones, nests and other natural artifacts he must have explored with great excitement as a boy. His passion for observation and making things by hand brought him to Massachusetts College of Art where Dave, Monika and I met in the photography program and became friends.
Before my commencement ceremony Dave was deep into telling a story, gesticulating wildly with his hands when his full glass of red punch cascaded down the front of my white dress, an event that cemented our friendship forever. Little did we know that our lives would parallel to such a degree over the course of the next thirty years. At 19, Dave was fairly impressed with himself for befriending the shy and talented Swedish girl that would become his wife, the mother of their children, and my best friend, and that all of us would be working artists, using our passion for photography to teach at the high school level.
Dave and Monika were inseparable since they first met in college, like the myth of Bacchus and Philemon that Dave liked to relate to Monika so often, about two lovers who longed to be together forever and upon their death the gods granted them their wish by turning them into one intertwining tree. That is how they saw their marriage. Dave called her Moon, Mandingo, and my Goddess.
She thought of him as the sun and she was the moon. She felt she was the indirect surface reflecting light, and he was the source. Not that one was greater than the other, but they existed in perfect balance.
Of course, their marriage, like all marriages, was not without its difficulties. Dave could be a tad bit bossy. And he had a knack for teasing Monika. He renamed all of her beloved chickens after famous chicken dishes: Cordon bleu, fricassee, coq au vin, parmesan, and stew spelled S-T-E-W who later became Gropius Dingle Claw. But Monika also knew exactly how to get Dave’s goat. She and I would often make up silly songs together, and we would bet in secret with 99% accuracy how many seconds it would take before we would hear him shouting, “Monika, Girls! Please stop! For the love of God. I’m leaving the room, I’m gonna leave!” as we laughed hysterically in the background. In the hospital under a heavy dose of medicine, Dave once yelled out “Monika, don’t touch my urinal! They’re going to think I’m the lunatic instead of you”, even though she was nowhere in it’s vicinity. They found a harmony that most couples can never attain. Every time Dave went on a trip, he would collect and bring back heart-shaped stones for Monika that now are visible throughout their house, a simple reminder of their unbroken friendship and imperishable love. Their home is a testament to their shared love of things: branches and yardsale gems garnish table tops and window-sills, rusted, broken objects are hung proudly on the walls next to beautiful pieces of art. Every ugly and broken piece of something, every stone or shell or twisted lump of roots that ordinary people would pass by unnoticed might be spied by them, collected and could be given a place of honor in their home.
Those of us who knew them held their marriage in high esteem. Editors of each others’ work and best supporters of each others’ art, they were two halves of a whole, intertwined like Dave’s tree, almost to the point of being able to read each others’ thoughts. One mind, two bodies. You could barely say one name without the other’s attached to it, Dave and Monika. They honored each others’ art, beliefs, and approach to life with admiration, patience, and compassion. In his final weeks, Dave told Monika “you are a magical being, don’t change”.
Their love for each other is clearly shown in the balance with which they raised their children….. Dave’s plethora of exuberant “you should’s” blended exquisitely with Monika’s calmer view of self-discovery. While Dave encouraged Lucas and Amanda to throw themselves into everything they do, Monika gave honest answers to all the questions they asked and encouraged them to be openly loving.
Both of them encouraged creative thinking, independence, and exploration into how things work. This was evidenced in Lucas’ two story Rube Goldberg style dog biscuit deliver system invention, which included pulleys, a basket, and some active dog participation. Amanda was the young entrepreneur of hand-made stuffed animal and cake baking businesses.
Even though Dave bought a boat, it barely made it out of the Brighton driveway. So Dave carved mackerel and salmon out of plywood, and Lucas sat in the land-locked boat and learned to fish. Dave and Monika made close bonds with their children’s friends and welcomed them as family.
They translated the balance of their personalities masterfully into the raising of two children who have developed an appreciation for nature, are good world citizens, have become actively engaged in life, and who understand the importance of friends and family, like their parents. Both Lucas and Amanda have shown amazing fortitude, maturity, and love to their parents through this difficult time.
Before moving to Concord, Dave and Monika first bought a house in Brighton where their children were first raised and they were all part of a community of friends, neighbors and artists.
in 1999 he received official honorable citizen citations from both the City of Boston and the State of Massachusetts, for his “countless hours of service and dedication to the Hobart Park Neighborhood Association”, which were rewards for his community building and advocacy on behalf of the Brighton neighborhood where they lived.
But Concord has been his place, and you are his people. Fresh out of grad school at Yale he took a one year replacement position at Concord Academy, followed by a visiting artist job at Concord Carlisle High School where he remained for the next 25 years.
He has built alliances here not only through his classroom teaching but in his community engagement with the Concord Art Association, the Communities for Restorative Justice program, and asking his friends (Monika and I, at least) to participate in the armchair travel lecture series for local residents. His numerous involvements at the high school included the Weeds organic gardening program, being a strong advocate of his fellow colleagues, and he always worked hard to champion the arts in education. Dave’s energy was boundless and his commitment to this town, unwavering.
That is why it shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see the incredible outpouring of generosity to Dave and Monika and their family from the time of his diagnosis that has continued to this day. Nothing warmed Dave’s heart more than to know what he had given his life to, the concern for and love of people, came back to him in bounty. The incredible meals, garage-building, acupuncture, shoveling, firewood, snow blowing, chicken feeding, dog walking, hospital driving, contacts and medical advice, friendship and love that poured out to us is a testament to a wonderful community that takes care of a resident who has made such a difference . Over a cup of coffee one morning with Dave, Monika and I had confessed that we thought having led quieter lives, had the roles been reversed, and it had been either of us instead, that perhaps we could count the people that would be there for us on our hands to which Dave replied with a smile: “Don’t worry girls, I’m going to lend you some of my people, I’ll get the numbers up there for you to at least 15, maybe even 20.”
I know that Dave was that one in a million teacher, the crazy, boisterous guru who on Halloween donned a caveman outfit. He was real, made everyone feel important, and was the only teacher I have ever known to get away with saying things in a classroom like:
“What are you thinking, are you on crack?”
“I’m going to smash you. I’m going to get in trouble. And it is going to be worth it.”
“Electroshock therapy: you, me, a toaster oven, and a bucket of water.”
“The quality I like most about myself is my ability to control my rage in the workplace.”
“Ah!...There is a God!...Just kidding, there isn’t.”
Dave also packed some serious garlic onto the garlic bread he made at home and brought in for lunch. On one occasion a student felt the urge to protect himself with a facemask when talking to Dave in class. This was also caveman day, and the day that the school superintendent and State board of education person came to visit his class. After the first few questions to Caveman Dave he asked: “And what practical applications do your classes in photography give to students for their future?” To which Dave replied, “Nothing, … absolutely nothing!”
But we know that this isn’t true and that if you have read his blog his students are the ones who say it best. Here are a few excerpts;
You always felt as much a friend as a teacher, which is a rare thing, especially at the high school level. My love of photography continues, and to this day I can still hear your voice in my head, “No squirrel pictures!” :) Sincerest thanks for teaching me to believe in myself and that my art is worth creating and sharing with others.
The time spent in that classroom flew by and before I knew it you were helping me send in portfolios to college. I just read the post above mine and laughed out loud thinking of that squirrel picture you used as a demonstration of poor framing. We have a billion squirrels on our college campus and every time one scampers past I honestly think...how on earth would someone take a good picture of a squirrel? Not sure it could be done but if anyone is the man for the job it would be you. You have changed my life
You remain the one teacher who gave me detention. I deserved it!
Prifti, We both know I rarely did work in photo, but yours was still the class I learned the most in…You are not only the best teacher I’ve ever had, but also the best man I’ve ever known. I can’t adequately express how much you’ve impacted my life, so a simple thank you will have to suffice for now. Thank you for always making me smile. Thank you for teaching me how to do tintypes, which you assured me would get me into college and get me a husband. Thank you for teaching me how to slide when you weren’t even my softball coach. Thank you for your endlessly entertaining stories. Thank you for being the one teacher I was comfortable talking to about anything. Thank you for allowing me to be myself in your classroom, when I was too shy to be myself anywhere else at school. Thank you for being more than just a teacher, thank you for being my friend. Thank you so much for being a part of my life and inspiring me in every way. It is my life goal to be awe-inspiring, just like you are.
My fondest memories of high school are in your classroom, which was really the only place I didn’t feel lost at that point in life. I don’t know who I’d be if I hadn’t known you.
When I picture you, the first thing that comes to mind is your plaid button ups and ability to quick-fire insults at us. You were the first person I have ever shed tears over, and the first teacher that I have ever truly loved. Your legacy will live on through your children and your students.
I will be taking pictures for the rest of my life, thinking of you with every click of the shutter. I have never liked a teacher as I have liked you. I remember that one time when we were discussing religion, and we both agreed that we were agnostic. So, in honor of your agnosticism, have a great time in your next life as an eagle, or in heaven, as a spirit on earth, or in nothingness. And, take lots of pictures.
And my personal favorite:
Dave, Things I have learned from you:
• Fresh eggs are way yellow-er and cook better than store bought.
• Once you name a chicken, you cannot eat it.
• Junk is rusty...Good Junk has patina.
• Art is created from passion. Craft is your passion perfected. Arts & Crafts is something Girl Scout Leaders do with popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners.
• Collecting skeleton keys is fun (my collection is still very small).
• If you have to have radiators, ornate ones are beautiful.
• Cavemen were in vogue way before Geiko made them mainstream.
• The traffic cone from your truck had a better vacation than me. It also looked better in vacation pictures!
• Eagle Scouts Rule!
• Ugly can be made beautiful with the right light and extra time in the darkroom.
• Very few people in this world will ever be as loved and respected by as many individuals as you.
And from a parent:
When we send our beloved children out in to the world, you are the exact person that we hope and pray will find them.
Everyone he encountered could not help but like him. He had an undeniable pull with people, and those who stayed in his orbit quickly grew to love him. Dave’s boisterous humor and his razor sharp wit could draw out the best in anyone. For this reason, he had a plethora of admiring friends and followers. Monika and Dave welcomed several people, including myself, to live with them in their home over the years. They became shepherds to a colorful flock of live-in artists, philosophers, and even a monk named Amdu, who could be seen snowblowing the drive in his Tibetan robes.
Dave’s relentless energy for creating, his positive outlook, and his unwavering belief that we can choose the life we live and live it with uncompromising joy and boundless exploration captured the hearts and minds of all he touched.
He was so prolific in his art-making, even the most accomplished artist would envy his stamina and passion.
Dave would go to extreme lengths to accomplish the work he set his mind to and engaged his friends in his endeavor. Friends might join him foraging on garbage day for unusual finds, combing the beach for shards of marble, and burying wood in the yard of the Brighton house for termites to eat until it was ready to be made into a sculpture. . In his friends, he had an army of faithful helpers ready to pull their car to a screeching halt on the side of the road to grab a piece of rusty metal that they knew he just had to have.
These favors were not an inconvenience to his friends. We felt blessed to be included in his work.
For instance, he could get my daughter Hannah to climb into the icy, muddy Assabet river on a spring morning in a thin, sleeveless dress and lie there shivering for two hours to pose as Ophelia for his series on mythology. To her, he was a mentor, a father-figure, and a close friend. He encouraged her more than any teacher to pursue her art and her life with honesty, integrity, and a brave sense of curiosity.
Six years ago, Dave took a workshop in Wet Plate photography at Bennington College where he met a group of artists who would become an integral part of his life and passionate artist-friends. They gave to each other many hours of meaningful discourse on photography and life which Dave loved so much. Calling themselves the Masterplaters, they worked together, fed each other’s spirits, and enjoyed each other until his last days.
Dave is not a person easily forgotten. Although his work will be held in galleries, museums, and private collections, it was always the making of the work that interested him the most. And, of course, the talk of artists.
Such was the effect of his generosity and unrelenting positivity. Despite his departure from this life, we still hold this effect he had within us, and we can use it to try to live with the compassion and vivacity he had.
By Dave’s example we have learned much about the importance of hope in the face of adversity, the paring down to what is truly important, the love of family and friends.
We will always carry Dave with us - each of us have our own particular memories: the creek of the stairs at 6:45 as he carried coffee to Monika before heading to school each morning, the friendly banter of student and mentor, the loud, sparring jokes of colleagues on poker night, his sideways smile, his hearty laugh, the glass of red punch.
Once, during the last weeks in a talk with Lucas he said: “My boy, it doesn’t matter what path you choose. You have so many options. Whatever you do, live your life with passion and compassion and you will have a magnificent life.”
This belief was echoed by Henry David Thoreau who said:
“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”
Dave, we love you, and thank you for making us part of your own magnificent life."
Written and delivered by Debora VanderMolen
