Eulogies

I still haven’t let myself take her number off my speed dial. But a few days ago, I finally found the heart to read through my old text messages from her, and I caught myself smiling. Not only because I remembered how often we got to spend time together. And not just because she insisted on constantly mixing in French that she knew I didn’t understand. But because she was the person that always made me happy. She was impossible to be mad at. No matter how late she was running, every time I saw that she was calling, the only possible reaction was to smile.

She was never content with being in one place for too long, so inevitably I’d have to deal with her disappearing for semesters at a time, or to Bosnia or France. But come June, within a day of her plane landing I’d be with her again. We took plenty of trips together, and many of my fondest memories are of those times. But it didn’t have to be anything extravagant. More often than not we’d end up in some bar, or in her living room, just talking all night. Laughing, drinking, playing pool. But mostly talking.

I don’t know how I got so lucky. I was born into a wonderful, loving family that helped shape me into the person I am today. I have close friends that have been with me through my ups and downs, and who I know I will always be able to count on. But Alden was different. She was my family, my friend, my confidant. Nobody knows me the way she did. Of all the millions of people in this city, I got to be her friend. And for that I’ll always be grateful.

 

To the loved ones of Alden Landis,

I wanted to express my deepest condolences for your loss and to say that it was a privilege to know and work with Alden this summer. I will always remember Alden for the infectious enthusiasm she had for both her work and life.  She had a clear love for science, was always eager to learn, and was a natural talent. She contributed a lot, and I owe much of my recent progress to her. She also blessed the lab with her constant smile, radiant energy and positivity.  Alden was genuinely kind to everyone and was always a pleasure to work with.

The other card has been signed by those who knew Alden during her time in the lab.  Even though she interacted with some only briefly, it is clear that she left a positive impression on all.

In addition to being a mentee, Alden also became a friend.

Thank you all for being here with us to celebrate Alden’s cherished life, especially those who have traveled here from distant places. We appreciate immensely all the love and support you have given our family ever since we learned the fateful news about Alden on December 20 – when our world turned upside down.

I speak today as a father, and so cannot have a very accurate or comprehensive view of Alden’s life. I’m sure I’ve been shielded from a number of different things that Alden and others decided I shouldn’t hear about, probably including a police report or two. But there are a few stories I know that are worth telling.

Alden, from the moment she was born, lived her life out loud, in the best sense of the word. She was impatient from the very start, hurling herself out of her mother’s belly less than an hour after we arrived at the hospital in San Francisco on February 21, 1988. I suppose there were times as a child when she was shy, but those have long since been overshadowed by all the exuberant, outgoing, offbeat, daring, impetuous, stylish and funny things she initiated as a teenager and young adult. She was just out there in life, determined to live it to the fullest.

She was rarely deterred by setbacks, or experiences that others would find frustrating or annoying. Indeed, she would recast those experiences as humorous adventures, and weave a great story about them. On her first day of teaching English in a French high school in Montpellier the year after graduating from college, her bus had to turn back because the French were on strike and had barricaded the school entrance with burning tires. It was incredibly disappointing for her, in part because she had chosen just the perfect outfit to look like a French school teacher. But she wrote a two page letter about the experience that had us in stitches.

If her family ever had any doubts about her expressiveness, or her determination to live her life out loud, they were erased when she strode to the karaoke microphone at age 16 in Edisto, South Carolina, where the Landis/Hopson families were vacationing one summer. Largely to a group of perfect strangers, she belted out the theme song of the movie Titanic – very loud, rather off key, but passionate. That was vintage Alden – never fearing to try something, and to do it with gusto, whether or not she had any particular talent for it.

Of course there were plenty of things in which she was extremely talented. Naturally, for me, athletics was at the top of the list. She was a feisty soccer player who co-captained her University Prep team to the state championship. She played varsity tennis as well, and her form in every stroke was something to marvel at, even if her impatience sometimes got the better of her in matches. On her premier softball team she was a treasured teammate who was a formidable hitter for her size. For years I had a photo of her on our refrigerator showing her taking a picture perfect swing during one of her games. One day she asked that I take it down. “Why?” I asked. “Because, Dad, look at the way the catcher is squeezing her mitt. I missed the ball!”

Not only was she modest about her sports accomplishments, she took delight in telling embarrassing stories about herself. Once she was playing third base, and started to daydream. Then she heard the crack of the bat, saw the ball head for center field, and instinctively started running home – not because that was what a fielder should do, but because in her daze she thought she was a base-runner. She made an elegant slide into home plate, and then looked at the glove on her left hand and thought, what am I doing with that on? She regaled many friends with that story over the years.

Hello Everyone, my name is Taylor Michiels and Alden was my best friend.  I always say that my time at UPrep was worth it because I met Alden- private school wasn’t really my thing.  I don’t even remember the first time I met her, or the first time we hung out – I just remember instantly doing everything together.  We immediately bonded over our love for adventure and, in all honestly, our tendency of getting into trouble.  Often times during lunch, Alden and I would climb out one of the rooms in the commons onto the roof of UPrep and throw food at people- I apologize on both of our behalfs if we hit any of you. One of my favorite memories was in 8th grade, Mrs. Sadler assigned a writing project where we were supposed to do something out of the ordinary and write a paper on it.  Alden and I thought it would be a good idea to dress up as goths and walk around Bell Square for a day.  We went all out- fake lip rings, nose rings, black lipstick, I wore a spiked black choker- there was nothing we did half ass. I think we were more impressed with our project than the teacher was.

Each summer Alden and I would go camping with my Godparents, Jimbo and Charlotte- we had so much fun canoeing, eating smores, and making up dances to perform. Even being in the total wilderness didn’t stop us from being a little rebellious.  On our long canoe rides we would go to the launch dock and take my godparent’s car for a little joy ride around the camp site, mind you we were 14. Again, my apologies to my godparents.

After middle school I decided to go back to public school and Alden stayed at UPrep.  What amazed me the most about our friendship was that even though we did not see each other every day we remained just as close as ever.  We would call each other periodically and talk for hours, even though neither of us are phone people, at all. One time, senior year, she called me and as it turns out both of us got into some legal trouble the weekend before and her response was, “wow, we are just so in tune.” I started laughing because she thought it was great we were both still making bad decisions.