Friends Kevin, Amy, Dan, Paige, myself and Phill: Kansas City, 1984

I was eighteen years old, a freshman at the Kansas City Art Institute, and working on my latest assignment, when a quirky, mercurial, fellow student approached me and started talking about r.e.m, elvis costello, jasper johns, robert rauschenberg, and an old animated short film called Thank You Mask Man. And I remember him doing this, somehow, without needing to draw a second breath.

Now at the time, I was naive, idealistic, and ignorant in the ways of the larger world (um, very much like I am now....er, topic for another day). But in spite of those traits, this student, Dan, kept wanting to hang around with me. It wasn’t long before the feeling was mutual.

Dan was very much the opposite of the beer drinking rednecks, who were the companions of my teenage years. He was informed, curious, driven, opinionated, in constant motion, and perhaps most suspicious of all, actually delighted in things around him. He became the friend one wishes for during their college years. He was an unknown force from an unknown world. We spent our nights driving around Kansas City in his beat up old Toyota with holes in the floor. Our conversations were what you might expect, art, women, philosophy, women, history, women, music, and, of course, plans for the future. Still, it all contributed to expanding my horizons.

I learned, indirectly, that Dan was from a broken home. He never talked about it in any sustained narrative and he never answered my direct questions about it. All I ever gleaned was that his mother had died at an early age, he had been raised in numerous foster homes, and at infrequent intervals lived with his estranged father, whom he hated, or more recently, with one of his older sisters. I had the good fortune to meet this sister a few years later and found her to be an amazing person who raised Dan like her own son.

It was probably because of his unstable past that Dan was driven to establish himself, in his career, and in his relationships. He was one of the most driven people I have ever met. He always had a goal in front of him and could articulate it with precision. In fact, given my nature at the time, to live wherever and however the breezes blew me, the subject of life planning was the only topic that we ever had arguments about. (note: Dan, you were right.)

Knowing Dan's energy, goals, and drive, I was surprised when I heard shortly after finishing school that Dan had, in fact, gotten married and purchased a home right in Kansas City. Sure, I understood his need for a real home, since he never really knew one, but I felt certain I would see Dan go out into the world and conquer it. What I discovered in time was that it wasn't the world at large that Dan wanted to conquer. It was his inner world.

Well, he conquered it. In the following few years, long after I moved away from Kansas City, I was able to visit Dan several times, and I never saw a happier person. He had built up his own landscaping business, filled his home with beautiful art, collected several fine arts and crafts period furniture (a passion he shared with his wife Stephanie), and later became an elementary art teacher (lucky students) in a nearby school. He also taught himself everything he needed in order to gut his attic and turn it into a new master bedroom. Why? Well, in my mind it was because their old bedroom might soon be occupied by others.

In the spring of 1996, Dan and Stephanie visited me in San Francisco. It was a wonderful visit. One thing I distinctly remember was walking through Golden Gate Park's Rose Gardens and having Dan express his admiration for some of the breeds of roses and distain for others. It turned out rose hybrids were one of his latest obsessions. Was there nothing this guy wasn't interested in?

So by now, you may be saying to yourself. "Well, good for you, Jim. You made a friend. Big deal. People do it every day." And you might be right in saying so. The reason I bring this little portrait of Dan up here is as a response to the expressed fears of many other single parents who wonder about any future character deficiencies in their children, because they are being raised in single parent households (or an otherwise "broken home"). What I want to show here is that single parent households do not necessarily write the scripts for how a person goes on to live. Though perhaps they can be the impetus to drive a person to great things.

Dan never let his past define him. He was curious to the core and anxious to share his enthusiasms with anyone around him. For me he was a consummate role model and a good friend. I can say with no false humility, that I believe he was a better man than I.

In the following summer of 1996, Dan and Stephanie planned a trip to Paris to enjoy a second honeymoon, and, his family later told me, to get started on trying to fill up that empty bedroom in their home. Unfortunately, their trip was on board the ill-fated TWA-800 flight that crashed shortly after take off from New York. Stupid airplane.

In a few days, it will be exactly twelve years ago this happened and the sting of that loss is only a little milder for me now. I still see the world as poorer for not having him in it.

So thanks for letting me share Dan's story with you. He was a guy who beat the odds, lived happily, and continues to inspire this single father by his beautiful example.

***

If there is any other lesson for single parents it is this: That because Dan and Stephanie had no will, (a bitter irony for a guy who planned his future so well) Dan's father, the only person I ever heard him express bitterness toward, arrived from no where at the memorial service and was able to scoop up Dan and Steph's house and all of the material assets that they spent their lives building. The man actually cornered me at the memorial service and tried to get me involved in a pyramid scheme he was running! What a class act.

The lesson here being, that if you are a single parent with an absent and/or irresponsible partner, make sure your own will reflects your true interests, and, when your little ones turn eighteen, make sure they have wills that protect their interests from those who would seek to only benefit themselves.

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