Alan Wormser Memorial

Today would have been Alan's 53rd birthday. We just celebrated Lisa's birthday last weekend with a rousing session of "Beatles Rock Band" that had everyone laughing and singing. Alan wasn't one to break out into song regularly, so I wonder what he would have thought about singing old faves like Yellow Submarine with us? I like to believe that he would have joined in the fun - maybe even put his folk dance rhythm skills to work on the drums?

Tis the season for missing Alan particularly much at the end of this blessed Jewish year. So, hugs and Happy Birthday to his beloved sisters Lisa and Debbie (September 8th I think?), and much love to Alan's network in these coming holy days.

With the wonderful assistance of the Alexandria Ham Radio Club, of which Alan was a member and an officer, I have finally established a new ham radio club as an informal sub-club of the Alexandria club. We do now have a completely formal license from the FCC and a beautiful new call sign - KJ4DLX - how awesome is that!?!?! :)))

I and a number of the Alexandria club members are attending the massive Dayton Hamvention this coming Saturday, May 17th! The Hamvention (www.hamvention.org) is going on from today, Thursday, to Sunday, but I'll only be there on Saturday. But I'll be there all day! I'll be the one in all bright orange with a white baseball hat saying "Alan Wormser Memorial Morse Code Warriors KJ4DLX" and "Alan Wormser N5LF(SK)" on the back.

Please come find me if you're attending the ham fest on Saturday, and if you're not, please drop me a line to say Hi anyway!

Remembering Alan, (88 baby)
Lara :)

This Saturday, November 4th, I will be walking in the American Diabetes Association’s annual fundraising walk. I am doing this as part of my own healing process and in support of fighting the disease that took my beloved Alan’s life. I am posting this note for a few reasons:

1) I am asking you to contribute to the American Diabetes Association in Alan’s honor. Through this fundraising walk, I am a courier for your support. You are supporting me by choosing to donate through my walk, but you are supporting many thousands of people who have diabetes or have loved ones with diabetes by donating to the ADA.

2) I am asking you to contact me with your updated contact information whether or not you can donate to the ADA at this time. I am re-building my contact information with the hopes of staying in better contact with my loved ones.

3) I am asking anyone in the Washington DC area to come join me on the walk this Saturday morning. It will take about 2-3 hours out of your day starting around 9:00am. The walk is 3km around the mall downtown. So far, I am a "team of one" and I am really hoping I won't be doing this walk alone. I have a few puppets who have volunteered to come along, but ya know it's just not the same when you're making up both sides of the conversation.

You know how Alan’s death overwhelmed my life and hurt his family. You have seen the effect of just one death from diabetes. The American Diabetes Association makes actual progress towards saving more people from suffering what Alan went through and saving their families from what Alan’s family and I went through. When you choose to spend part of your philanthropy budget on supporting the ADA, you reduce suffering and save lives. You probably know people living today with diabetes of some variant, and your donation to my walk will help them continue to cope with this fatal disease.

The following paragraph is text directly from the ADA about diabetes:
“Diabetes is the fifth deadliest disease in the United States and contributes to the deaths of more than 213,000 people each year—more than AIDS & breast cancer combined. Over 20 million men, women and children are estimated to have diabetes. Unfortunately, since diabetes can be symptomless for years, more than five million of them do not even know they have the disease. . If improperly treated or left undiagnosed, diabetes can cause serious complications including blindness, kidney disease, heart disease, stroke or amputation. The American Diabetes Association is striving to prevent and cure diabetes through valuable research, educational activities and advocacy programs.”

This fundraising activity is the beginning of a greater project of mine for working through my grief and reconnecting with the outside world. Even if you cannot spare the budget right now to donate, please reply to this note with your current contact information. Your brief attention makes a great difference in my life.

Deadline for donations is November 11.

With thanks and love,
Lara / Sophie

To donate online: http://main.diabetes.org/site/TR?px=3027905&pg=personal&fr_id=3972

To donate via snail mail, write out your check to “American Diabetes Association” and send via US Mail to me (get my address via email request) with the following form:

Donation Form
(Return with check made out to “American Diabetes Association”)

I, ________________________________, contribute the amount checked below to support the research, information and advocacy efforts of the ADA.

_____$100 _____$75 _____$50 _____$25 _____$10 _____$5 Other amount: $_________

It's been one year exactly since Alan passed. Lisa, the family, and I will be going to services tomorrow together. It will be a very healing time.

On Monday, at Pennsic (the SCA week long event Alan and I were going to attend together last year), I will be holding a memorial service for Alan. Some of his friends from the SCA local group didn't have a chance to be at the services last year, and they'll be at Pennsic. It's also a good time to remember Alan and mark the time of year with a ceremony among loved ones.

For that memorial evening, I wrote a second eulogy for Alan based on an email he sent me with his "whole life story" in his own words. I have a little clearer head now than I had last year at this time, so I kinda like this eulogy better than the one I gave last year at his Sh'loshim.

My main message here is the same as last year. Work hard at remembering the lessons Alan taught you. If you knew him, you learned something from him. Hold on to that lesson, and don't ever let it go.

My second eulogy:

Alan Joseph Wormser

Part 1) Timeline

Born: Austin, TX September 16, 1965. Jewish Ashkenazi descent.
Parents: Joseph Julius Wormser (1921-1997) and Evelyn Rozelle Brenner (1929-1992)
Sisters: Deborah Wormser, married to Rick Rosen with daughters Eva and Leala; Lisa Schamess, had daughter Mona with first husband Gil Schamess who died in January 2000. Lisa is now remarried to Stuart Hershon who brought children Samantha and Ashton.
Education: 1977 BA in Anthropology from Southern Methodist University; 1977 to 1986 spent at the University of Oklahoma fighting with narrow minded dissertation committee regarding his PhD work in Linguistics and Archeology which nowadays would be called “highly statistical GIS, but back then was called ‘too avant guard.’”

In 1986, Alan moved to his long time home of Austin, TX, which he described with the most heavenly terms. He met his first wife Kerynn Bissett there while participating in his favorite hobby, international folk dancing. They married May 12, 1992. Shortly afterwards they adopt the kitty cat “Nutmeg” as a sister to Alan’s cat “Huxley.” Alan’s hobbies included: international folk dancing, ham radio – especially morse code, genealogy, astronomy, and historic preservation.

Alan worked as an Archeologist for the Texas Dept. of Transportation and later for the Texas Army National Guard. Alan created the first in-house Cultural Resources Department in the National Guard and was awarded the Secretary of Defense’s Environmental Security Award for Individual Service in 1998. In March of 2000, Alan accepted the job of National Program Manager for the Cultural Resources program at the National Guard headquarters in Washington DC.

1992 – mother died.
1997 – father died.
January 2000, Alan’s brother in law, Gil died, leaving Lisa with a one-year-old daughter.
April 2001, Alan’s wife Kerynn is diagnosed with Lou Gherig’s disease and given 1.5-5 years to live. October 4, 2002, she died. Alan was with her when she passed along with her brother Del and friend Mary.

Spring of 2004, Alan and I start believing that we like each other more than just co-workers. July 4, 2004 Alan says he loves me for the first time. Labor Day Weekend 2004, Alan asks me to move in with him. We talk about marriage a lot, and we decided that 3 months into the relationship was too early to get engaged. Thanksgiving 2004, I know in my gut I’m going to marry him. (He surprisingly likes my mother.)

I job hunt desperately in 2005 for a new job in Washington DC so I can move in with him, and nothing comes through until I meet some good contacts at a conference in the first week of August. Alan started having strokes on August 4th, and he died August 12, 2005 after one week in the hospital. No one was prepared for his death or the secondary losses it brought.

Part 2) Alan about himself in his own words from an email early in our courtship:

“From my Electrical Engineer father I got my scientific, analytical streak
balanced with his appreciation for fine art and classical music. From my
Registered Nurse, family counselor, and university professor mother, I got
my humanistic and impressionistic, non-rational streak balanced with a
strong skepticism and need to question pretty much everything, & not just
accept the views of authority figures. My parents were both heavily engaged
in local Democratic politics & political causes, and the Civil Rights,
anti-war, and women's rights movements of the 1960s & 70s. Dinner
conversation was often a 5-way political debate, since as kids our
viewpoints were never (or rarely) put down as "just being a kid," and we
were encouraged to discuss, think for ourselves & form opinions. My mother
taught natural childbirth classes, & was very involved with the League of
Women Voters (great organization), NOW, and Planned Parenthood. My father
was the designer, inventor, and self-trained artist & writer; and he set up
a combo electronics lab and art studio in the garage. We rarely parked cars
in the garage!”

Regarding his childhood in Dallas, TX: “1962-63 Started first grade at Town & Country Elementary. Returned home
one day from school telling my Mom that I'd made friends with a kid named
Taro, and that "he is a Jap!" (that's what I heard the other kids call him).
Got a big lecture on racist slurs. It stuck with me and made an impression.
Next week I returned home with a black eye for verbally defending Taro and
his right to be called "Japanese" instead. Later that year, I was sent home
with a note from the teacher over an incident where I corrected some
misguided young man about the real source of babies (not the cabbage
patch!). Guess I couldn't leave well enough alone.

Memory: Around 1964 I read a book called "The Bat Poet" - which is about a
bat that goes out into the daylight when the others sleep and discovers a
whole world so unexpected & wonderous that he can only express it in poety
to the other bats. The other bats just "don't get it." Later, in college,
I realize that this book that was so resonant with me is actually from a
parable by Plato.


1968-1971 - Cary Jr. High. Terrible school. Redneck, backward teachers.
Horrible scape-goating by bullies. A few good friends. 4th-9th grade (last
school & this one) terrible anti-Semitism, fundamentalist proseletyzing (by
the Jr. High school itself sometimes too!). Sent to detention hall for not
participating in after-school the 7th grade Christmas pagent rehearsals
(which they swore they were doing in a secular style - meaning no praying I
think.) I read Orwell's 1984, and feel like I am living it at this stupid
Jr. High.

College: 1975-77 - SMU Fencing team. Not that good, but they needed a lefty & I
guess I was good enough. Never won a trophy, but nearly always made quarter
or semi-finals. Did foil & saber, but only competed with foil. Out
teacher, "Maestro" Emerick DeGalle was a character. We left each class with
him calling down the hall after us in his heavy Hungarian accent: "Dream of
fencing! Dream of fencing!" He used to rant against the football team
taking the whole athletic budget, "...With those square heads and beer
bellies, telling -ME- that fencing isn't a real sport! THEY don't know
NOTHING!" We did give him a hard time once when the great swordsman sliced
his thumb open while sharpening a knife in his kitchen.

Grad School: 1986 - Published first refereed article (and about the only one!) in
American Anthropologist. On a topic so esoteric that only 4 people could
understand the article: Me and the 3 people I was criticizing.

Adulthood: Grandpa Frank Brenner dies 2 weeks before wedding. He'd been ill with
heart failure for 6 months, so not unexpected. Grandma Ann is beside
herself with grief and doesn't travel to wedding. I have also lost a good
friend and confidant in my Grandpa. On one of last visits together, after
grandma went off to bed, he leaned over to me and very quietly said, "I hope
I never caused you any pain." I told him he was not just my grandfather,
but also my best friend. Very glad I took that moment to day it. First
time I hear something that will resonate later - my Grandma says, "I lost
the love of my life. He was my buddy. We shared so many memories that now
I have to carry all by myself."


Part 3) My eulogy for Alan:

He was brilliant, sweet, loving, and dedicated. Loyalty is not a strong enough word to describe what he carried in his heart. Alan’s dedication to the ideas and people he loved was endless. His lion’s heart was undeniable. Once you were loved by Alan Wormser, you were surrounded by a protective shield. He would defend his loved ones from earthly harms with all his strength, creativity, and resourcefulness. And if those earthly powers ever failed, you would always know that his never ending love would support you. You would never be alone. Alan’s love is plenty for any soul to survive on.

He cared for his wife as she died over 18 months like the most dedicated of parents. His soul and life were bonded to her with the love of fairy tales. His love was better though, because his was real. In the modern world of hatred and injustice, of insecurities and cowardice, Alan protected his loved ones by simply being what he believed in. Once a person became open to having the empowering flow of Alan’s love in one’s life, the cruel realities of life were kept at bay. Pain was buffered. Fear melted away. His wife Kerynn died early and painfully, and through it all, she had the best human support God ever created. She was sustained and comforted as much as could be possible until her body failed completely.

Alan’s love melted away my fear, pain, and self-doubt. Alan’s presence brought valuable things in to the lives of many. His nieces and sisters were loved and supported by him, and they had the best of role models in him. His family had a pillar of strength in him. Instead of a relative to tolerate on holidays, they had a friend they could trust and enjoy.

Alan’s professional colleagues and the profession of Archeology had a unique and powerful resource in him. His passion, dedication, and resourcefulness were supported by his hard won, extensive education. His ability to use his knowledge to forward causes in his profession was uniquely supported by his personal skills in communication. He never spoke with judgment to someone open to learning. He continually educated any person he found with a spark of interest. He fought with those close-minded people in power that could affect his professional projects, and he often created compromises and creative winning solutions. In his Herculean efforts to bridge the knowledge gap between the American military and Native American tribes, he was uniquely successful and never lost faith.

Alan’s love for me was miraculous. After the pain of mourning, he still loved as if he had never been hurt. He accepted the realities of life, and he found glasses half full everywhere. His choice to be optimistic didn’t seem like a choice to him. It was the only option he saw. When I asked him if he loved me “Warts and all, completely with all my faults,” he replied that he didn’t see any. If he had lived long enough to actually marry me, I’m sure he would have seen what faults I was referring to, but I’m sure they would not deter him from encompassing me with cosmic levels of love.

Now that Alan is gone, I preach that people should remember the things he taught them. His colleagues should remember his fiery defense of cultural resources and Native Americans. His family should remember his philosophies of life. And I should remember what it is like to be loved so well. If you are listening to me now, please take time to remember what you learned from Alan Wormser. The world will be better for your efforts.

It seems that one's good deeds might actually get one admitted to a heaven of sorts. Later this month, when the Society of American Archaeology meets in sunny Puerto Rico, Symposium 97 on April 27 will focus on the sea-changing agreements and necessary compromises that Alan pioneered (ooh, maybe a bad connotation) on behalf of the cultural resources community, Native American nations, and the U.S. military National Guard during his 10+ year career there.

"Mission Possible!: Cultural Resource Preservation Across the Army National Guard: Papers in Honor of Alan J. Wormser," will be moderated by Alan's longtime co-worker in the C.R. trenches, Shellie Sullo. Many thanks to Kristin Wenzel and Jake Fruhliger for organizing this session in Alan's memory.

Lara is planning to attend. Debbie and I wish we could also be there. We are so glad Lara can go. She has landed pretty admirably on her feet here in the DC area, is reconnecting with friends, and adopted Alan's "kitty-with-issues" Nutmeg a couple months ago.

[image of Totem Pole beside front gate of Camp Mabry, where Alan worked throughout the 1990s]

New Year's wasn't as bad as I had feared. I've learned a lot over the past four and a half months, and one thing I've learned is how to not tourture myself.

I recently went to a folk dance holiday party, mostly to try to see Vita and Ernie, very dear friends of Alan's who have come to mean a great deal to me. I was doing fine on the 2.5 hour trip to the site via public transportation, but then once I arrived, I lost it. My weariness from the trip left me with no energy to maintain composure in the face of surging grief, so when I saw the beautiful folk dancers and heard the music that normally makes me want to dance, all I could feel was the loss of Alan. So, I cried a lot and some very sweet friends of Alan's came to talk to me. It was a very great comfort to talk to these people, and I was grateful for their presence.

However, when facing New Year's eve and the memory of the dancing double date Alan and I went on last year, I decided to instead attend a low-key gaming party of some SCA friends of mine instead of try to go dancing. So, it was, in fact, a lovely, low-key New Year's transition complete with good SCA cooking and amusing games. I am again grateful to the Oldcastle clan for their neverending presence in my life.

But I do want to remember last year's New Year's eve because it was very special and beautiful.

My dear friend Teleri from Chicago visits her dad here in DC for the holidays. Being the dance and music nut that she is, she knew the best places to go dancing in DC for New Year's better than by baby Alan! At least the kind of dancing that Alan and I liked to do...

So, Teleri and her dad double dated with Alan and me for New Year's last year at an old mill that was functioning as an event space. About 100 people danced English Country dances to a great trio of Violin, guitar, and keyboard. I remember telling Alan that as soon as I could get moved out here, I was going to find another two musicians and learn all the English Country dance music I could. I was going to put together a trio that could play the country dance circuit and make a little money with my favorite hobby. Because after all, since I'd already done the really hard stuff with Dave's 16th century Italian dance arrangements with my band back home, English Country would be a snap!

The event was a pitch-in (and Alan would have said "pot-luck") dinner, and Alan had made sure there would be a diabetic-friendly dessert by making a key-lime-pie version with sugar free jello and cool whip. He put the pie in a semi-broken pie plate/cover thing which I got to hold on the drive over. We had neglected to let the pie sit long enough in the fridge, so it was all sloppy and goopy. I had to keep it elevated in the car to keep it from slopping onto my lap. It ended up being more like key-lime soup than pie, but it was tastey and people complemented him on it.

Alan and I danced nearly every dance and chatted all night with Teleri and her dad. Alan and I weren't familiar with the dances, but we knew enough of the style to pick up the pattern in a few rounds.

There were all sorts of beautifully dressed people there, some in costume, and some very casual. I loved the fact that you could just come however you wished from black tie to broomstick skirt.

We had a lovely champaign toast at midnight and lots of kissing - at least for Alan and me. ;)

It was a dreamy night with one exception. Alan took a pit stop without knowing that the last dance of the evening was coming up and it was a waltz. Waltz is my favorite thing in the world, and I was very sad to have missed a waltz with my Alan. Waltzing with him was like being in heaven. Every crap thing in my life disappeared when I got to waltz with Alan.

I just noticed the time, so I have to go. I'll post more about our New Year's eve date later...

This year I spent 5 days visiting my folks in New York for Christmas. My sister was there and we all got to visit Mom's branch of the family and break all the rules of Weight Watchers. We baked the traditional 4 favorite cookie recipes, drank good wine, exchanged lots of presents, sat in awe of how pretty the tree is, and took the time away from the rest of the nutty lives we lead to be in a space focused on family. Since my folks moved back to the east coast, we've added another Christmas tradition of spending a day in Manhattan seeing the Met and a show. My mom's developed a game of seeing how dramatically she can surprise my sister and me with which show she got tickets for. This year she scored again since she got tickets for the new Andrew Loyd Webber, "The Woman in White." Very cool show. I didn't even know he was working on a new one. I'm rather out of touch with Broadway anymore.

It was a nice vacation, and I was overwhelmed with thoughts of What Could Have Been. Last year, I spent 10 days on the east coast for Christmas/New Year's break - half with my folks and half with Alan. This year, Alan was supposed to come spend Christmas coming with me to my folks' house. I always thought it was an amusing convenience to marry a Jewish guy so that I could avoid the traditional struggles my Christian cousins and friends experience when they get married and have to negotiate which in-laws to spend Christmas with. Given that Christmas has a much more family oriented focus in the New York Coutinho house than a religious focus, Alan would have enjoyed last week's trip with me quite a lot. He would have loved the food, the family kibutzing, the trip to Manhattan, and the quality time to just hang with the family. Lord knows he and my dad would have spent a lot of time in the basement playing with radios.

My sister took the cake this year by causing me to say "It's just like Christmas - I got a menorah!" During a pre-Christmas chat, I asked Mom where I might buy a Menorah here on Long Island since I wanted to do Hanukkah prayers and never got the time to shop for a menroah and Lisa wanted to keep Alan's old one. As Mom started thinking about various resources nearby, my sister Kathi runs out of the room and comes back with pretty blue box. She was going to save it for Christmas, but decided to keep me from any disastrous last minute shopping fiasco and just give the gift to me right then. It was a pretty little menroah with birthday-cake-sized candles! She'd gotten it the previous April on sale at Hallmark in anticipation of my upcoming multi-cultural holiday season of 2005. Even though I won't be sharing Hanukkah with Alan this year, I still enjoy the rituals of Jewish tradition and thinking of him as I learn them. My little menorah has kept me company this week, and I hope to share it with Lisa and Mona before Hanukah's over. (I highly recomend www.jewfaq.org for all your prayer text needs!)

Last year, my sister made a new set of family member Christmas tree ornaments, one for each of us with our names on it, and she made an ornament for Alan. A pretty yellow one to look pretty next to my orange one. I was so excited last year to be experiencing the motions that brought Alan into my family. My mom got extra bedding furniture expecting that Alan would be here, and I was researching ways to make cookies with Splenda so they'd be easier for a diabetic body to enjoy. This year when we went to Cousin Deana's house for the big family Christmas dinner, I kept feeling like Alan should be here to meet everyone on this extended branch of Mom's side of my family. They were all very kind this year and acknowledged my loss with a sense of awkwardness I'm coming to expect from people who want to be happy during the holidays and acknowledge Alan's death as well.

So, Christmas wasn't really cheery for me, but it was filled with well meaning people. Most of my family members paused for at least one moment to be awkward in remembering that Alan was supposed to be here this year, and though I never got the guts up enough to ask for a moment of silence or a toast to absent friends, Alan's absence didn't go unacknowledged.

My Christmas memories of Alan are all about the anticipation of adding him to my family. The Coutinhos, OConners, Landhousers, and Metcalfs were all ready to welcome Alan into the clan. This year all we could do was be awkward and say "I just don't know what to say."

Since Alan and I actually got to spend New Year's together last year, this coming weekend is going to be a great deal harder than last week. Since my lunch hour's about over, I'll have to write about New Year's later.

--Lara