Below The Fold

DJ died on January 4, 2004.

He was 29.

His sister, Robin, emailed me yesterday. She came across an article I wrote a while back on Tavern 13 in which I mentioned DJ. Robin said that was the same bar DJ had been in 17 days ago, moments before his life ended in a mass of twisted metal and broken glass a few blocks away on Broadway.

Robin thanked me for my kind words about DJ (I said he was the nicest guy you’d ever meet and without any hint of pretension whatsoever). It was a true passage. DJ was a neighbor who lived in the weird basement apartment when Amy and I lived at 6th and Washington a few years back. At the time, he worked at Moe’s Bagel at 6th and Grant. Whenever we came in, we’d buy a couple sandwiches and a drinks and if DJ was working the counter, it would cost something like 37 cents. I’d look at him quizzicly and he’d shrug and say, “that’s how it rang up,” and crack a wide smile. Even with the one crooked and dead tooth, his smile was infectious.

He was a small build and a frail-looking kid, but he had a strength of character that belied his physical stature. He was always extra kind to Amy—she looked after him a bit like he was a younger brother in a way, chiding him for not eating well or wearing a coat when it was cold. When we last saw him last June, the first thing he said to Amy was, “I’ve still got your turkey baster!” She had lent it to him on a thanksgiving several years ago when he was determined to cook his first thanksgiving turkey on his own.

He was a Packers fan, a transplant from Oshkosh, WI, living in the city that exorcised all its Superbowl demons in one fell swoop on the backs of his beloved cheeseheads. He came to our Christmas party later that year and absorbed a ration of crap from all the gloating Broncos fans. He weathered the storm admirably.

When I last saw DJ, he was talking about his plans to go back to school. He had been a recent victim of some injustice and decided he needed to become a lawyer to protect “the little guy” like himself from further injustices. I find it sadly bittersweet that he was scheduled to start school this semester at Metro, according to the oafish and lacking obit linked above. It makes me happy to see that he was sticking to his guns… and so sad to realize that he never got the opportunity to see it through.

I hope he’s at peace now, where ever he is. I’m glad to have known him.