We want to thank Luke's dear friends Bobby, DJ, Eric, Jake, Mike, and Frank for writing and delivering this beautiful, funny, and moving eulogy during the memorial service on September 17. We love you guys. Thank you for bringing Luke's spirit into the room. I'm re-reading your words and remembering Luke on his birthday, September 26.

Thank you all for being here today. It’s so great to see everyone together. We’re grateful to be in the presence of people who loved and cherished Luke. I know Luke would be overwhelmed by all of the love that can be felt here, but I can’t help but think he might be underwhelmed that we didn’t take the opportunity to tell everyone that this service would be pirate-themed with mandatory parrots. I can picture him shaking his fist, letting out a YARGH, and giving eye rolls to DJ’s nautical puns. It’s too easy to picture that, right?

We don’t think he ever truly understood how endearing and loveable his silly nature was. He wielded a seemingly extraterrestrial sense of humor and paired it with compassion for his family, friends, and our shared world. At times, it would be challenging to keep up with his quick wit and just general brilliance. Every interaction seemed like a ‘choose your own adventure’, considering that he could easily offer kindness or chaos, empathy or entropy, mindfulness or mayhem, and, on occasion, all of the above. Or to simply vent about the most recent loss by the NY Mets.

Retracing our time with Luke, we’ve come to fully realize and appreciate why we all became friends over 20 years ago.

For those who don’t know us, we are a group of Luke’s childhood friends: Bobby, DJ, Eric, Jake, Mike, and myself -- Frank. Collectively, the seven of us call ourselves the Lumberjacks. How we came to be known by this name is not clear, but one thing is very clear, it’s all Luke’s fault.

When we were young, Luke had a strong desire to watch bad movies – cheesy, low budget, poorly edited -– just bad, but he didn’t want to watch them alone. So, seemingly at random, he selected classmates and neighbors to watch them together. To introduce them to the expansive world of cheesy C grade movies through the high-quality venue known as the Mueller’s Basement: Mystery Science Theater 3000, the genius of Mel Brooks, and collections of bizarre skits performed by the Monty Python troupe, the same troupe that performed the classic “Lumberjack Song.” Whether it was a trio of outcasts watching bad movies in space, irreverent parodies of classic stories, or a collection of British creative misfits estimating the flight speed of an African swallow, it was obvious to Luke that we should try to emulate these silly beings. Silly just made sense to Luke.

Here we arrive at the origins of the Bad Movie Party, which quickly became a staple in our lives. Leave it to Luke to turn a group of random classmates into a group of lifelong friends. These things, initiated by Luke, kept us together for longer than we anticipated and then for far longer than we wanted. Now, we’re stuck with each other. Thanks, Luke.

We acknowledge that we are certainly not the only ones influenced by Luke’s unique taste. He truly had an uncanny ability to fill life with music, film, and literature. Can you think of a song, movie, or book he recommended? Can you think of 20? 50? 100? Making excellent recommendations you didn’t know you needed was but one of his superpowers.

Superpowers? Surely you can’t be serious. I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley. Luke was always quick with a side-busting one-liner and a quirky joke – there are too many to list. However, a few favorites include:

Declaring himself as the founder member of the All-American Association Against the Abuse of Acronyms (AAAAAA)

Substituting a birthday card with a condolence card for Jacob, crossing out: “I’m sorry for your loss” and writing over it “Happy Birthday.”

Playing ‘Whose Line is it Anyway’ in front of anyone who would tolerate it

Heckling Mike while working on calculus homework, advising him: “Don’t drink and derive.“

Creating an entire line of “Bobby dolls”: Pillow tester Bobby, Congressman’s aide Bobby, Ming Dynasty Bobby, and the limited time offer: Bobby Bobby

Work shopping the next broadway hit with DJ: “Let’s Be Frank”, a traditional retirement-themed rock opera, starring yours truly as a broke college student masquerading as a retiree. While attending Florida University: the big FU

Traveling through Germany Luke bet me “EIN EURO” to do anything and everything.

And there was that one time he acknowledged Eric. Another instant Luke classic.

While at Disney World one day we were at the food court of our hotel. While Luke, the man, needed a lunch break, his creativity did not. Taking his placemat and some crayons he began to feverishly draw, and it wasn't until it was much too late that we realized what he had done. Scrawled in colorful letters were the words: MAGIC, followed in the plainest text possible by…ISNT REAL. Where is this piece of art? We do not know. We all wished to take it for posterity, but alas Luke insisted on leaving it so that the children would know Disney’s best kept secret: THE TRUTH!

Nonetheless, Luke himself WAS magic. He wielded some kind of otherworldly power when we faced off across the table - physically or virtually - in a game of intellect and imagination. Risk, Munchkin, Settlers of Catan, and perhaps most importantly Hearthstone, Luke was a force to be reckoned with. We can’t forget when he created an overpowered FINAL BOSS in Munchkin, but in true Luke fashion, it forced all the players to work together to defeat it. On another fine night, at two in the morning, Luke refused to concede Asia to Jacob in a game of Risk that is probably still ongoing. As game master, Luke occasionally had a flexible interpretation of the “rules,” and would erupt with convenient tactics, which were either embarrassingly correct or just WRONG.

Luke was relentless at play, but just as dogged working for what he cared about. The Walden school at Willow Well was established for learners who loved nature, and had an outdoor classroom, garden, stage, and living art pieces. Luke loved his time there. Every year, Luke took his annual pilgrimage with Dan and DJ, pitched his tent in the field by the outdoor classroom, and slept under the stars. But even before he would make camp, Luke would check his garden. He wanted to know what was growing, what beds moved, and what didn’t belong with his precious greens. He spent a lot of care squatting among the tomatoes, garlic, and chard, expertly picking the slugs, earwigs, and grubs. The garden was precious. It was more than his- it belonged to the students and community at Willow Well, and he wanted to protect it. Even for the short time that he visited Vermont each year, Luke helped the garden grow. He was responsible. Patient. He valued what was simple, beautiful, and everyone’s. Luke helped things grow.

It really didn’t get more genuine than Luke. Take it or leave it, he was unapologetically Luke, and we’re so thankful for that. We extend our love to Mr. and Mrs. Mueller, Hannah, and Grace. We thank you for tolerating our miscellaneous hijinks over the years, and for the time the Lumberjacks shared in your home.

Luke, we’ve loved you from the moment we met you at the bus stop on Brookwood Rd, our first viewing of Pod People at your house, International Speak Like a Pirate Day, our many e-mails to Strong Bad, consulting the all-powerful Zombocom, watching the Demented Cartoon Movie, and of course, our seven hundredth viewing of Clue, including in black and white, with French subtitles.

We spent so many years immersed in fictional universes, watching silly nonfiction skits, and trying to match your creativity, we can’t help but to let our imaginations comfort us and think about where or when you might be right now.

Perhaps directing the first interdimensional feature film for Ludicrous Films, or sitting in the basement with Monty plotting to “build an army worthy of Mordor,” or navigating the sea of green in a Yellow Submarine, creating a Hearthstone deck to take down the Lich King, or joining Joel, Mike, Servo, and Crow on the Satellite of Love waiting for a MOVIE SIGN. Wherever you are, we know it is made better because they have you. One day, we hope to meet you there.

Thank you for making us brothers. Thank you for making us The Lumberjacks.

 After cutting down our Christmas tree and bringing it home, our family drove to church. I was preparing myself for a long, hard day as I stepped through the freezing air into the building. I had somehow been talked into devoting most of that Saturday to participating in a live nativity. It was eleven in the morning, and the nativity was to start at two. Mrs. Barker, the brains of the operation, had supposedly left those few hours for orientation and organization, but most of it was spent eating pizza and watching that old holiday classic, Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. Eventually, of course, we had to get ready, putting on costumes and facial hair, learning our cues, and being told not to mistreat the live animals. I was about to learn that though the live nativity would be cold, uncomfortable, and tiresome, it would end up being an enjoyable social experience. 

 I was chosen to be a wise man. The other two were Jason, a new member of the church who I had opposed once in a soccer game, and Chris, who I had once done a Monty Python skit with at a church talent show. Over a very necessary jacket I wore the most extravagant of the three kings’ costumes. Two of the angels on hand (Jason’s and my little sisters) followed me through the patches of snow, holding my cape. I felt very regal indeed, though I think my mother found my beard slightly creepy. We learned we had a simple job in the show; we would go up and present the doll representing Jesus with our empty containers for gold, frankincense, and myrrh. We were using a very long CD which seemed to have been produced for the purpose of long and drawn out live nativities, so it had irritatingly long musical interludes in between the bits of narration of the story of the first Christmas. One of the guys who was assisting the production, David, said we should go down by the road and do some advertising for the nativity. I suppose the three Wise Men were the most iconic members of the cast; besides, we had nothing better to do at the moment. 

 “I can’t feel my extremities,” I complained, waving to the happy, warm people zipping along on the highway. Jason, likewise waving, muttered, “I can’t feel my instremities.” Chris noted another discomfort we all shared, saying, “My beard itches.” We received a few encouraging honks, though I don’t know if we actually convinced anyone to stop. Most of the people who showed up either attended the church or said they had heard about it somewhere else. We were summoned back to do our part in the show, then stood around talking for a while. When the CD was done for the first time, the “actors” went in for a break, and my parents went home. Everyone with fake facial hair could not eat, and we spent ten minutes searching for straws so we could drink without wetting our beards. We went through the entire showing two or three more times. At the end of one of them, a reporter took our picture. When we weren’t down at the simple manger honoring Jesus, we talked to the visitors and the men who had been hired to bring the animals. We huddled together for warmth and joked around. Eventually, the original three wise men were replaced, and Chris and Jason went home. I would have liked to, but my sisters didn’t, and as some of the cast were deserting her, Mrs. Barker needed as many people as she could get. 

 So I became a shepherd. For the last three showings my task was more physically demanding. I had to stand around in frigid temperatures for nearly three quarters of an hour while controlling the young, immature shepherds who just wanted to kick people in the shins and poke the sheep with sticks. After my first stint as a herdsman, the old Head Shepherd gave me his Staff of Ultimate Shepherding Power and went home. Jason returned just as it was getting dark and also became a shepherd. “We had llamas at our nativity at my old church,” Jason said, patting a goat on the head. “We should have had camels when we were kings,” I mused. For the last two shows we became less and less concerned about staying in character as our audience diminished. After the angels came and proclaimed the birth of our savior, some spectacularly out of place Jamaican music played, and the angels and shepherds started doing the limbo with my staff. The last time, it was completely dark. The few people left were more interested in playing with the donkeys than watching us. For the last fifteen minutes, we were utterly alone. After being told seven hours previously to remain still whenever possible, the entire cast danced along with the ending music of the last show. Tired, cold, hungry, but not altogether unhappy, we went home. 

 The picture showed up in some small local paper. At least we were on the front page. I smiled as I looked down at my own face, my paper crown crooked and my fake beard in a ragged state that no real monarch or wise man would tolerate. I recalled the bleak air, the boredom of the slower stretches, the stiff joints, obnoxious children, and the indiscriminate manner in which the animals deposited their waste. I wouldn’t want to do it again soon. Still, I’ll be happy to volunteer for next year.

August 16, 2015. This is such a strange video to remember taking. Just sitting in the car with my brother, patiently listening to some random Chinese songs from my playlist. The first song repeats "this is love" and the second I remember as my STARTALK tutors' favorite, by S.H.E. about the worldwide popularization of learning Chinese.

(Not sure why I took this video to begin with... I might have been nostalgic after watching the slice of life videos in the movie Boyhood that came out the year before, about which I'd just answered many questions for my Chinese friends as we watched that past January...) This was on the way back from a summer visit to see Hannah in Baltimore, the year Luke graduated from USC and I came back from studying in Beijing, before I started undergrad. The video ends with us merging onto "80, sweet 80" as you can hear Luke saying. A familiar route.

____

I miss you so much, Luke. I miss your nerdy accepting support for all my random interests. I miss driving in silence with you. I miss listening to your music choices. And your reactions to mine. I miss your venting and raging about the state of the world. I miss your fascination with nature and science. I miss your ability to listen to me vent and find the humor in each situation. I miss making you vegetarian food. I honestly don't miss your driving too much, but we made it to Baltimore and back on that trip and many other adventures! I miss hiking or walking or just petting the cats with you while catching up. I miss hearing your take on the latest films and directors. Why one scene had particularly neat editing choices. We were never the most on top of birthdays, so while Septembers are hard now, we'll be remembering you so much this year during the holidays.

___

There's so much loss in this world. Luke was such a sensitive soul. It's hard to process everything that's happening globally and locally and know Luke's already with those lost ...yet if he were still here he'd be weighed down so heavily by all that's going on.

And not to compare grief or pain, but it's so hard to imagine the magnitude of loss some families are experiencing. From the couple other friends I've since learned have also lost a brother or closed love one, to some of my students' struggles, to other friends' families' completely torn apart by war... the immense loss is so hard to fathom. 

My heart goes out to everyone dealing with loss. It seems like far too many.

Today especially we remember and celebrate the life of our wonderful son Luke, whom we lost last July 7th.

Among much writing that he left behind is a journal of 33 entries on topics assigned by his sixth grade teacher. One of the topics actually inspired two entries, both cosmic:

"Wouldn't it be strange if..."

Topic #8A

The sky buzzed. It was a strange color. At first glance, it appeared black. But if you strained your eyes, you would realize that it was green, a beautiful green, but so dark it would almost hurt your eyes.

No one really knew what was happening. Astronomers were beginning to guess, with their powerful telescopes, but no one really knew.

After a few weeks of this, these huge clouds of buzzing dark green, after the news stations finally admitted a few items of news not related[to]these dark green things, after people stopped looking up every few seconds or so, after all of it started to die down, someone found out what the things were.

He was never seen on the surface of Earth again.

The green things left. Life went back to normal.

And a galaxy away, a human was having a grand old time on the planet Gnouv, teaching aliens about Earth and riding in their green machines, the beautiful dark green spacecraft that buzzed loudly when activated.

And no one ever knew........

Topic #8B

It would be really strange if the Earth was really a speck of dust in a room full of alien artifacts.

----------

Mary Beth liked the idea of posting these entries. As she said in response, Luke was not earthbound. And it's a little easier to let go of him because he didn't always feel it was his element.  

It was six months ago today, in the middle of the afternoon, that we lost our beautiful son Luke while he drove to work. His car rotated off the highway, hitting several trees sideways. He never regained consciousness. Testing confirmed that neither alcohol nor drugs were involved. His phone wasn't in use at the time. There were no apparent mechanical problems with the car.

This past Wednesday we received the final NJ State Police report on their investigation. It filled in a few details, but as to the cause of the accident, it simply concluded that Luke failed to stay in his lane and maintain the car's directional control.

The report offered no speculation, but I can't help but speculate. He bought his 2004 Grand Am because it didn't cost much, but it came with a big six-cylinder engine. And he was late for work. I imagine speeding was a factor. I like to think that he might have swerved to avoid a deer. We'd seen deer along that highway a week earlier, and Luke loved animals. Since then I've learned that simply highway swerving or driving too fast can lead to complete loss of control.

I had hoped the report would offer more, but realize now that it couldn't. There is no more explanation. We will get no more. A helpful grief counselor has told us how questions like why, what if..., and if only... are very normal - because we desperately want a different outcome. But we don't have a choice. We must simply accept, integrate the loss into our lives, and go on. Our friends, family, pastor and fellow church members have been tremendous support. We go on, with gratitude for the life that our son had, the lives we have, and the faith and hope that we share in the life to come in God's eternal love.

It’s the beginning of November and I’m in St. Margaret’s Church, Maggie Valley, NC. This is the time of year we celebrate All Saints Day and, tomorrow, All Souls—so fitting with an overcast autumn sky and leaves flying!  It’s a time to remember those we’ve lost (at least physically!), and I’m especially remembering Luke. So I pray, knowing my love and memories are somehow reaching him. I’m giving myself the time and space, here in this holy setting. The  best I can do, to articulate what I feel, is to turn to scripture. Tomorrow’s reading begins,  The souls of the just are in the hand of God ...  and it ends,   ...grace and mercy are with his holy ones. (Wis. 3:1-9)  You don’t need our words, Luke, you have our hearts and always will!

In memory of Luke, here's a small sampling of clips of films and videos.

Luke had a love of film and video throughout his life, as a creator both in front of and behind the camera, and of course as a viewer.