This past Thursday I was filling for a colleague and assisted with a media interview with a local T.V. station. The story about how the dad fell out of a tree and his three year-old daughter ran to get him--more than likely saving his life.
We were in a waiting room at work while the reporter was interviewing the mother of the patient. I was trying to occupy the little girl's time by asking her questions and playing with her. I was standing up when she came up to me--and spanked me a few times on my rear end! The camera was rolling. I was shocked, embarrassed and thought it was hilarious. I forgot to tell some people the story until later when it hit me--the story of Skippy spanking Angie in the Barnes and Noble--to find out it wasn't her. Skipster--I know you had a hand (literally) in this. Thanks for bringing that laughter and smile into my life. Miss you, Westerclamp.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Saturday, November 6, 2010
God is missing, and they think we stole him.
We buried you today, Skippy. Your Superman t-shirt and Green Lantern ring were very fitting. My heart broke, and I felt overwhelmed with grief. They are selfish feelings because I want you here with me, but they are real and painful all the same. It was marvelous to see so many hundreds of people cramming the funeral home and waiting in line. Everyone bustling to see you just one last time. Everyone still in shock and disbelief over your death. You are loved.
I remember the first time I met you. You came into my freshman English class in high school and began quoting Shakespeare. To this day, I still have no idea what you were doing or why you were there. But I thought you were pretty nifty all the same :o)
I remember going to the Green Day concert with you. I wanted to sneak my camera in so you shoved it down your pants for safe keeping. They checked my purse, but they didn't check your bulge. I was tempted to let you keep the camera after that.
I remember you forcing my future brother-in-law to pole dance with a broom on the party bus for his combined bachelor/bachelorette party. Then slapping his ass repeatedly.
I remember the last time I saw you. You were rocking the pink fedora and Michael Jackson moves on the dance floor at Nicole and Brian's wedding. You were the life of the party.
I remember the last thing I said to you. "You're Skiptastic!" Though they aren't the greatest last words, I'm glad we shared them.
I am ever so thankful for your friendship. I will never forget your smile, your tattoos, your smartass comments, your love of the TV show LOST, and the Harry Potter movies. If I'm Harry Potter's Ginny Weasley, then you're his Ron. We are all lucky to have known you. I feel especially lucky to have been your friend.
So long, Skippy. See you on the other side.
~Courtney Slater
I remember the first time I met you. You came into my freshman English class in high school and began quoting Shakespeare. To this day, I still have no idea what you were doing or why you were there. But I thought you were pretty nifty all the same :o)
I remember going to the Green Day concert with you. I wanted to sneak my camera in so you shoved it down your pants for safe keeping. They checked my purse, but they didn't check your bulge. I was tempted to let you keep the camera after that.
I remember you forcing my future brother-in-law to pole dance with a broom on the party bus for his combined bachelor/bachelorette party. Then slapping his ass repeatedly.
I remember the last time I saw you. You were rocking the pink fedora and Michael Jackson moves on the dance floor at Nicole and Brian's wedding. You were the life of the party.
I remember the last thing I said to you. "You're Skiptastic!" Though they aren't the greatest last words, I'm glad we shared them.
I am ever so thankful for your friendship. I will never forget your smile, your tattoos, your smartass comments, your love of the TV show LOST, and the Harry Potter movies. If I'm Harry Potter's Ginny Weasley, then you're his Ron. We are all lucky to have known you. I feel especially lucky to have been your friend.
So long, Skippy. See you on the other side.
~Courtney Slater
Friday, November 5, 2010
Easy to love, hard to let go
I wasn't sure I wanted to post here or anywhere about Jason. When he went into the hospital I, like most assumed he would go in, have a tough time and come out feeling better. We were hopeful that this time he would finally be able to move on with the rest of his life. The call that Sunday morning hit Teri and I like a bolt of lightning.
I first met Jason when he was a kid. We can't say for sure what year it was, but probably around 1993. His parents became good friends of ours, and often came out to see my band. Ralph (Jason's dad) even worked with the band for our bigger shows, acting as security or helping haul gear, etc. So Jason and Angie were around us a lot. Jason and I connected immediately over our love of video games... I think he liked that he knew an "adult" who was into games and comics and sci fi.
As time passed it became a regular thing to see Ralph, Marla, Jason and Angie backstage before shows, and then out in the crowd smiling at us through each song. I can't tell you how many times I would crack a stupid joke between songs, and look right at Jason to see him either laughing hysterically or grinning and shaking his head at me. As many have said, he told it like it was, even if it was just a facial expression.
Over the years we were privileged to watch Jason and Angie grow. The love in that family was admirable and never in question, even through the challenges they faced. Teri and I marveled as Jason and Angie became centered and intelligent teenagers and eventually people who were not just our friends' kids, but good friends in their own right.
When he was in college, my wife Teri hired Jason as an intern, giving him an opportunity to work in the field that he eventually made his career. When he needed advice about work or life, he often called us both for our insight.
When he moved back to Des Moines I remember encouraging him to join the "twitterverse." I was very active online at that time and thought it might be a good way for him to make friends... obviously you all know that worked out pretty well!
The night before he moved back to Denver Teri and I had dinner with Jason. We talked for a long time about the path his life had taken, and the opportunities that were in front of him. He was as happy as I had ever seen him. Although I was very sad to see him leave, I knew he was following his heart... as he always did. As he walked out the door, he said "Love you guys, now I gotta go pack!" We laughed, shook our heads at him and said "We love you too, Jay."
This weekend I will help carry Jason's casket to his gravesite. It's impossible to comprehend. But the things that I have seen online, on this blog, twitter and facebook and in emails from many, confirm everything I ever thought about Jason...
He was easy to love, and is hard to let go.
Yesterday I fired up my XBox and saw his avatar on screen, it's head down and sleeping.
I cried, and I played.
- Andy TeBockhorst (flysupes)
I first met Jason when he was a kid. We can't say for sure what year it was, but probably around 1993. His parents became good friends of ours, and often came out to see my band. Ralph (Jason's dad) even worked with the band for our bigger shows, acting as security or helping haul gear, etc. So Jason and Angie were around us a lot. Jason and I connected immediately over our love of video games... I think he liked that he knew an "adult" who was into games and comics and sci fi.
As time passed it became a regular thing to see Ralph, Marla, Jason and Angie backstage before shows, and then out in the crowd smiling at us through each song. I can't tell you how many times I would crack a stupid joke between songs, and look right at Jason to see him either laughing hysterically or grinning and shaking his head at me. As many have said, he told it like it was, even if it was just a facial expression.
Over the years we were privileged to watch Jason and Angie grow. The love in that family was admirable and never in question, even through the challenges they faced. Teri and I marveled as Jason and Angie became centered and intelligent teenagers and eventually people who were not just our friends' kids, but good friends in their own right.
When he was in college, my wife Teri hired Jason as an intern, giving him an opportunity to work in the field that he eventually made his career. When he needed advice about work or life, he often called us both for our insight.
When he moved back to Des Moines I remember encouraging him to join the "twitterverse." I was very active online at that time and thought it might be a good way for him to make friends... obviously you all know that worked out pretty well!
The night before he moved back to Denver Teri and I had dinner with Jason. We talked for a long time about the path his life had taken, and the opportunities that were in front of him. He was as happy as I had ever seen him. Although I was very sad to see him leave, I knew he was following his heart... as he always did. As he walked out the door, he said "Love you guys, now I gotta go pack!" We laughed, shook our heads at him and said "We love you too, Jay."
This weekend I will help carry Jason's casket to his gravesite. It's impossible to comprehend. But the things that I have seen online, on this blog, twitter and facebook and in emails from many, confirm everything I ever thought about Jason...
He was easy to love, and is hard to let go.
Yesterday I fired up my XBox and saw his avatar on screen, it's head down and sleeping.
I cried, and I played.
- Andy TeBockhorst (flysupes)
Thursday, November 4, 2010
How the hell do you pronounce 'pho' and nice pants...
I don't have a lifetime or even years of memories filled with the joy that was (and will always be) Jason, but there are two that will be with me forever. The Tuesday before his surgery, Jason wasn't himself. He wasn't skipping though life and bouncing across the web, so I picked up the phone and said, "What gives, kiddo?" A bad pain day, I said I was taking him out to dinner and that he could tell me no but he wasn't going to get away with it. He said he wanted pho. I'd never had it and thought what the hell?! With a smile, new sweater and kiss for me at the door of Pho 95 here in Denver, I'm sitting like a deer in the headlights, staring at a pho menu and just ordered what he was having. This enormous plate of shrubs/veggies/sprouts lands on the table and I ask him what it's for, and Jason's like, "They go in the soup." Okay, cool. So when our pho arrives, I take some of the basil and...put it in my soup. Jason's sitting there, face half down in his soup, looking up at me with a smirk. Sipping pho. And I'm like, "WHAT!?" And Jason, plain as day, says, "You know, some people take the leaves OFF the stems." Embarrassed as hell and as red as my hair, I picked the soggy Thai basil tree OUT of my soup and pick the wet leaves off one by one. With Jason snickering the whole time. Punk.
The other memory is visiting him the night before his surgery in the hospital. I walked into his room and there's Jason, decked out in Hospital's Finest - drawstring pants and a pimpin' green shirt. I drop my purse and climb into bed with him. He took my hand, kissed me, rang his fingers through my hair and said, "I'm glad you're here." And I said, "Me, too." And for the first time in my life, I didn't feel like I had to say another word. (He was also very proud of his "awesome seersucker pants." And I have to admit - they WERE awesome and matched his Green Lantern ring nicely...)
Jason is joy and always will me - I think there's a reason his name starts with a J. And I'm so very grateful to everyone who allows me the gift of knowing him a little bit more by sharing each of their memories.
~Erika Napoletano (the "other" Erika...)
~Erika Napoletano (the "other" Erika...)
The Last Gentleman
I met Skippy at my first ad agency job out of college. Although we had lost touch over the past few years, he was always a great friend. And if we'd run into each other again I know he would have given me a huge hug, told me it was great to see me and asked how my brother was doing. That's just the kind of guy he was and I wish I'd had the chance to have that conversation with him again.
When I heard the news on Monday, I was in complete shock. It just didn't seem possible. I talked to my mom on the phone that night and told her what happened. My mom never had the pleasure of meeting Skippy, but I knew she'd remember me talking about him during the years when I was living in Des Moines and hanging out with him on a regular basis. The first thing out of her mouth when she heard the news was, "Was he the one who helped you put your bookshelf together?" I'd completely forgotten about this, but leave it to my mom to remember every nice thing that anyone had ever done for her daughter. During our time working together, the office manager at our agency ordered me a new bookshelf because my office didn't have one. When it arrived, I received an email that it was waiting for me in the reception area. When I got there I realized that not only did the box weigh 400 lbs, but it obviously wasn't assembled. In an agency full of men, the only gentleman in a one mile radius was Skippy. Not only did he cheerfully start helping me lug it into my office, (without me asking or even having the time to wonder who I should ask) but he spent the afternoon helping me put it together.
This isn't the most exciting or funny memory I have of Skippy, but when my mom reminded me of it, I thought it pretty well summed up the kind of person, and friend, he always was. He would give you the shirt off his back, and the matching hipster glasses, without a second thought and never ask for anything in return.
When I left that first job and started working at Strategic America, I was stunned to learn that all of my new friends there not only knew Skippy but considered him to be a great friend of theirs too. That's how it was with Jason - to know him was to love him.
Lindsey
When I heard the news on Monday, I was in complete shock. It just didn't seem possible. I talked to my mom on the phone that night and told her what happened. My mom never had the pleasure of meeting Skippy, but I knew she'd remember me talking about him during the years when I was living in Des Moines and hanging out with him on a regular basis. The first thing out of her mouth when she heard the news was, "Was he the one who helped you put your bookshelf together?" I'd completely forgotten about this, but leave it to my mom to remember every nice thing that anyone had ever done for her daughter. During our time working together, the office manager at our agency ordered me a new bookshelf because my office didn't have one. When it arrived, I received an email that it was waiting for me in the reception area. When I got there I realized that not only did the box weigh 400 lbs, but it obviously wasn't assembled. In an agency full of men, the only gentleman in a one mile radius was Skippy. Not only did he cheerfully start helping me lug it into my office, (without me asking or even having the time to wonder who I should ask) but he spent the afternoon helping me put it together.
This isn't the most exciting or funny memory I have of Skippy, but when my mom reminded me of it, I thought it pretty well summed up the kind of person, and friend, he always was. He would give you the shirt off his back, and the matching hipster glasses, without a second thought and never ask for anything in return.
When I left that first job and started working at Strategic America, I was stunned to learn that all of my new friends there not only knew Skippy but considered him to be a great friend of theirs too. That's how it was with Jason - to know him was to love him.
Lindsey
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Single and Ready to Mingle
The last thing I said to Skippy was a comment on his Facebook/Twitter photo of his hospital bands. His comment was that he did hospital crawls, not bar crawls. He was so avant garde. :)
The comment I left said I gave him my full permission to hit on all the cute nurses. And to give all the doctors my phone numbers. I was single and ready to mingle. :) Part of me would like to speak with those doctors and nurses to make sure they know how much of an incredible person and friend Skippy was and what saying goodbye to him is like. Another part of me says that they probably already now because Skippy had a way of making an entrance.
That comment pretty much sums our friendship. We've always joked that there was no line to cross. But if there was a line to cross the majority of our comments probably would have crossed it. With Skippy there was no filter (for those of you who really know me, you know this is true). We were open and honest with each other. It was Skippy. He wasn't going to love you less because you were honest.
Skippy--you already know this, but I'm still single and ready to mingle buddy.
-Kate Westercamp
The comment I left said I gave him my full permission to hit on all the cute nurses. And to give all the doctors my phone numbers. I was single and ready to mingle. :) Part of me would like to speak with those doctors and nurses to make sure they know how much of an incredible person and friend Skippy was and what saying goodbye to him is like. Another part of me says that they probably already now because Skippy had a way of making an entrance.
That comment pretty much sums our friendship. We've always joked that there was no line to cross. But if there was a line to cross the majority of our comments probably would have crossed it. With Skippy there was no filter (for those of you who really know me, you know this is true). We were open and honest with each other. It was Skippy. He wasn't going to love you less because you were honest.
Skippy--you already know this, but I'm still single and ready to mingle buddy.
-Kate Westercamp
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