tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12933572609312526802024-03-05T18:49:40.117-08:00Remembering Matt ReagonThis is a space to learn more about Matt and his family, and to share your stories and condolences.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-73498886200154861192009-08-26T11:59:00.000-07:002009-08-26T12:10:09.217-07:00A Rainy Night in Soho (The Pogues)<span style="color: rgb(68, 68, 51);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><span>One from Matt, for Bill and Erica-</span><br /><br />I've been loving you a long time<br />Down all the years, down all the days<br />And I've cried for all your troubles<br />Smiled at your funny little ways<br />We watched our friends grow up together<br />And we saw them as they fell<br />Some of them fell into Heaven<br />Some of them fell into Hell<br /><br />I took shelter from a shower<br />And I stepped into your arms<br />On a rainy night in Soho<br />The wind was whistling all its charms<br />I sang you all my sorrows<br />You told me all your joys<br />Whatever happened to that old song<br /><span> To all those little girls and boys<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span></span><br /><br />Sometimes I wake up in the morning<br />The gingerlady by my bed<br />Covered in a cloak of silence<br />I hear you talking in my head<br /><span> I'm not singing for the future<br /></span>I'm not dreaming of the past<br />I'm not talking of the first times<br />I never think about the last<br /><br />Now the song is nearly over<br />We may never find out what it means<br />Still there's a light I hold before me<br />You're the measure of my dreams<br />The measure of my dreams</span>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-50138104506016139342009-05-20T16:09:00.001-07:002009-05-20T16:10:15.169-07:00Logic (Matt Shorts, v.5)<h2 class="date-header">Wednesday, May 06, 2009</h2> <a name="7101401282294445034"></a> Matt was home from college. It was a Sunday afternoon and the traffic on Old Route 22 was heavy and heading south to NYC. Matt and I were running at a pace that allowed Matt to talk the entire time. That is to say, I was completely out of breath. A group of late model foreign sedans whizzed by us, going faster than the speed limit. What was worse was that none of them moved over to give us any space. Matt took offense to this, and launched a wad of spit in the cars’ general direction. It was with neither good luck nor bad luck, but purely with Matt’s luck, that the spit landed squarely on the windshield of the only domestic car in the bunch, a gleaming white Corvette. “I think you got the windshield of that Corvette” I said. We kept running. A half-mile later, as we passed my Grandmother’s house, the Corvette pulled up alongside us, window down, arm hanging out, pointing at us. The arm was attached to an irate bearded man who had a lot to say about his now-soiled ride. As we ran, Matt disputed the man’s version of the events, using the impeccable logic that if the guy had been driving slower, none of this would’ve happened. They continued their discourse for another 30 yards, then the guy sped up the road. It has always been a matter of debate as to what happened next: was there a gesture from our party in the receding car’s direction? Did George Washington really chop down the cherry tree? Who can say? Regardless, about 50 yards from us, the Corvette slammed on its brakes, nearly sliding into a ditch, and a six-four version of rage personified jumped out. “Run” was all Matt said. We high-tailed it the other direction and cut up into the woods. I’m not sure our pride was still intact, but we were.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-25491332473829586752009-05-20T16:06:00.001-07:002009-05-20T16:08:19.332-07:00Ruth (Matt Shorts, v.4)<h2 class="date-header">Thursday, April 30, 2009</h2> <a name="7477717909876125663"></a> <div>Matt called me at work. “Well, you’re an uncle,” he said. Her name was Bridget and she was “perfect.” In the hospital he was all happiness, and if anyone expressed happiness to him, he reflected it back one-hundred-fold. When she was brought to New York for the first time, the flight attendants cooed over her, and when we exited the plane, one, who happened to be Irish, slipped a bottle of champagne into the diaper bag, “for the little one.” Matt beamed in that way that made you happy but also made you want to crack him across the head. At home, we brought Grandma Meade over for dinner to meet the baby. She was frail in body but not in mind and spirit. Matt couldn’t contain himself, and we had barely situated Grandma on the couch before Matt plopped Bridget on her lap. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said in her way, but then she held her and Matt put his arm around them both and though Grandma couldn’t really see, her eyes looked out over the room and they were a little misty.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbhuaVGklGZ64X098N8_BGHo-Q5FFsw7JgwvS3I_uKvlYK_Y7usPaE4e2g0iZj_AMKq-2XUwyg-O4kh38tQS50ZcGh1OyQMx97SISYDwXbQ0pIGPqE3jrnTTQEbxNbtTnGvqr9oQRL3qF/s1600-h/Mat+and+Bridget.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbhuaVGklGZ64X098N8_BGHo-Q5FFsw7JgwvS3I_uKvlYK_Y7usPaE4e2g0iZj_AMKq-2XUwyg-O4kh38tQS50ZcGh1OyQMx97SISYDwXbQ0pIGPqE3jrnTTQEbxNbtTnGvqr9oQRL3qF/s400/Mat+and+Bridget.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338046648435000050" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-22702074015154047862009-05-20T16:04:00.000-07:002009-05-20T16:05:24.252-07:00Rust (Matt Shorts, v.3)<h2 class="date-header">Wednesday, April 29, 2009</h2> <a name="7762189138182170121"></a> Matt called me at work. “Well, you’re an uncle,” he said. I drove up to the hospital in San Francisco when work got out, working my way through Internet-boom rush-hour traffic. Much later, the car I drove that night would be towed by the city from the front of Matt’s house, after we had tried and failed to fix the fuel pump (we got it to start but not run) and then left it for dead in plain view. We didn’t put it in neutral and let it glide down the hill into the Pacific because growing up in Wassaic instilled us with the belief that broken-down cars, prominently displayed and given time, sublimate to their highest and best use. Towing laws are looser back home, and besides, Saabs don’t die so much as rest. Matt attributed the car's breakdown and subsequent towing to the fact that I had just installed a new radio. He believed in a weird car karma, like the time when I arrived late for a dinner in San Francisco with him and his in-laws, and he greeted me at the door, relief plain on his face, saying “I was thinking you had maybe gotten into an accident because you had washed your car.”<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVQJrGErWe-GvWJEaLKdchMcR2h_IZIXYsA8FlNv65fZQy-xp7K_7feLXnUvb4ml6yuDvzyav4vZpoha5rHc9gh9sLA-q-gH3mAjC7zBK-wjsHIin0BzJm0Nv4fhKMFu-yX9gEao10V_u/s1600-h/Wassaic+Front+Yard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVQJrGErWe-GvWJEaLKdchMcR2h_IZIXYsA8FlNv65fZQy-xp7K_7feLXnUvb4ml6yuDvzyav4vZpoha5rHc9gh9sLA-q-gH3mAjC7zBK-wjsHIin0BzJm0Nv4fhKMFu-yX9gEao10V_u/s400/Wassaic+Front+Yard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338046085471360002" border="0" /></a>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-90636013121813142722009-05-20T16:00:00.000-07:002009-05-20T16:03:10.389-07:00Bamboo (Matt Shorts, v.2)Tuesday, April 28, 2009<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span></span><div class="post hentry"> <a name="6627923571108528685"></a> </div> <a name="6627923571108528685"></a> <div>We were installing a bamboo floor for Dwell Magazine’s offices in North Beach. The floor was quite large and it took at least a day longer than anticipated to finish the installation. We listened to NPR and Nirvana CD’s on Matt’s little boombox as we worked. I would turn it to a local radio station on occasion, for variety, but Matt was the Mamet of flooring and needed to hear, and say, words – lots of them. “Always be nailing” was what he would say, when he wasn’t saying something else that made me strain to understand. A six-hour day was just about right for us. Matt tended to rush things late in the day. He said that on a job site I was good at anticipating what was needed next, but I could never stop him from making these mistakes. I tried. He was quite skilled at this point, much more so than me, but he was also like a fast-moving train with no brakes. Bamboo is a hard and splintery floor material and pulling up a piece of it you just nailed down requires a quick, loud, intense physical effort that makes you rue the mistake you just made. You could fix almost any mistake, it just hurt a little more each time you had to. We made mistakes then went out for coffee, probably our third coffee break of the day. As we passed one of the many strip clubs on Columbus, the hawker tried to lure us in. I asked if they give foot massages. He and Matt chuckled. We were cash-poor, our feet hurt, and not his target audience.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2W9gLu2dEPljEz4F1WpTzEDMyhGKYZiHGirGn46GJ4T2H5LvrgzieBNDyyU4C7fJYetH7V2veqn_-meG64kx9lfmGvEsAx7ubfBFgOkFSQ67tJoe0sLGEwai9UwmPU3HNqzlcxctopIQz/s1600-h/HallwayBefore.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2W9gLu2dEPljEz4F1WpTzEDMyhGKYZiHGirGn46GJ4T2H5LvrgzieBNDyyU4C7fJYetH7V2veqn_-meG64kx9lfmGvEsAx7ubfBFgOkFSQ67tJoe0sLGEwai9UwmPU3HNqzlcxctopIQz/s400/HallwayBefore.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338045275865741682" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-37213252590317587972009-05-20T15:57:00.001-07:002009-05-20T16:00:32.900-07:00From Billhttp://vfr3l.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html<br /><h2 class="date-header">Monday, April 27, 2009</h2><a href="http://vfr3l.blogspot.com/2009/04/matt-shorts-v1.html">Matt Shorts, v.1</a><h3 class="post-title entry-title"> </h3> He was my oldest brother. The Christmas before he died, he was sick with a neck ailment, and was in constant pain from an operation. As we hugged goodbye that time, I impulsively, reflexively, held his head in my hands and pressed his forehead to mine and told him he’d get through it, that we’d get through it and that I loved him. I had been annoyed with him not five minutes before. It was like that. He was my oldest brother and I adored him.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrbhvHJXEVA5Xf1ecknoCrTH-mXY45QN6mhZiYesb0JaTdNMfVHV2VB3K1kY_419j5s9XIob-6OOkOg0jUL2GoYRjXBelQKXEXSjeIFFpW3ojZ-M-1M3NUT9kefoNgCqsxRkGGl0Gix_I2/s1600-h/IMG_1301.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrbhvHJXEVA5Xf1ecknoCrTH-mXY45QN6mhZiYesb0JaTdNMfVHV2VB3K1kY_419j5s9XIob-6OOkOg0jUL2GoYRjXBelQKXEXSjeIFFpW3ojZ-M-1M3NUT9kefoNgCqsxRkGGl0Gix_I2/s400/IMG_1301.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338044299242089634" border="0" /></a><br /><img src="file:///Users/luks/Desktop/IMG_1301.jpg" alt="" />Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-34215611997713438562009-01-05T10:02:00.000-08:002009-01-05T10:03:06.584-08:00Scott C said...I just learned yesterday, Dec 20, of Matt's passing.<br /><br />I have been busy finishing med school, in Denver; and so, do not regularly check mail.<br />For the Holiday's, I'm at my parents now, in Portland, where my Reed mail collects. I was catching up on it yesterday; and was saddened to learn of Matt's passing.<br /><br />I want to extend my condolences to all of Matt's family and friends and loved ones. I recognize the profound tolls (emotional and otherwise) that the sudden loss of a loved one creates. So, my thoughts are with all of Matt's family, friends, and loved ones.<br /><br /><br /><br />Last night, I had a chance to reflect on my memories of Matt. Here are some of them.<br /><br />In the first couple of days I was at Reed (during orientation infact), Matt was the first<br />person I met. For whatever reasons, he sought me out and introduced himself. We quickly established a friendship that lasted from those first days until years after graduation.<br /><br />I think it's important to say that I was not a social person in my days at Reed. Instead, I was, for the most part, young and scared and isolated, which reflected in my behavior. I'm not proud of this fact, but that's how I was.<br /><br />Matt's presence in my life however, from that first meeting, chipped away at my isolation. He repeatedly, over and over, year after year, invited me into the social circles he developed and partipated in. For the most part, I struggled against his invitations and floundered in those circles. But, Matt always kept coming back.<br /><br />I am indebted to Matt for doing this: He allowed me the opportunity to establish friendships I would not have been able to establish myself.<br /><br />At Reed, and after, Matt and I had many long conversations about many things: Music, movies, art, literature, philosophy, politics. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that those<br />conversations changed me, as a person, for the better.<br /><br />When I first came to Reed, Matt was far ahead of me in most subjects. I brought some things<br />to the table, but most of our conversations amounted to Matt teaching me about things I knew nothing about. He introduced me to writers and thought that changed me. Most importantly, he was gracious about it. For example, in some subjects I was self taught and I did not know the correct pronunciations of many of the words. Matt would carefully and respectfully correct me in these points.<br /><br />Over the years, there were times when I was dissappointed with his choices. Two long<br />conversations stand out in my mind. I remember aspects of those conversations and remember struggling to understand him and struggling to dissaude him. I remember leaving those conversations knowing that I had been unsuccessful; that he was set on his course.<br /><br />In later years, we mostly only swapped events, stories and opinions over the phone;<br />while I was in Texas and he was in Chicago or California. But periodically, every few years,<br />we would touch base; at times, for hours. I found great challenge, and pleasure and reward<br />through all of these conversations.<br /><br />For example, a couple years ago, prior to chosing to switch from industry to medicine, I consulted Matt, several times, over the phone. I listened carefully to his opinions. I appreciated his input on the matter, which influenced and strengthened me to proceed to a life I am now profoundly rewarded by and grateful for.<br /><br />I believe I owe Matt many thanks for many things he did for me. Over and again he influenced me positively. So I remember Matt, and my friendship with him, with appreciation for his life and sadness for his loss.<br /><br />Again, my condolences to all<br />Scott CTracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-30848996210523173152009-01-05T10:01:00.000-08:002009-01-05T10:02:00.385-08:00Nick Leggatt said..I remember Matt as a witty, funny, boundary-pushing friend. I will always regret not reaching out to him after he apologized for his drug-related antisocial behavior toward me. In many ways, Matt was a far better man than I am. I cherish the memories I have of him and all the friends we once shared together.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-36268295537114752212008-10-24T10:05:00.000-07:002008-10-24T10:12:31.325-07:00And - More Photos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnF8xYwCvLMb-elDVHomdQjrj9Zdad3XY8om26byF5entdrXZgp150meJ2jXdLPy2NJrdU0Tpi2QICHzQ-mgftQuI7OTJc-PHaWRI9BUXdacTQh7bZXVjnp26T4ai83sqqmGZfi7NiL4j/s1600-h/IMG_5696.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnF8xYwCvLMb-elDVHomdQjrj9Zdad3XY8om26byF5entdrXZgp150meJ2jXdLPy2NJrdU0Tpi2QICHzQ-mgftQuI7OTJc-PHaWRI9BUXdacTQh7bZXVjnp26T4ai83sqqmGZfi7NiL4j/s400/IMG_5696.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260768504883614354" border="0" /></a><br />Matt<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WHVjTKtaurZ2FFgrRD-p0ik9rtlk0bb-izoIt9s5FACPbNhR_PGhZjZyhpH-x8uxsKf1KkTSYJoxyUPp0aTsqorqgPv0c4MaDi5e9LfF7FqYZqaJ_JSJLwfa8pbpnuIt1fmUBM3ghdng/s1600-h/IMG_0179.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WHVjTKtaurZ2FFgrRD-p0ik9rtlk0bb-izoIt9s5FACPbNhR_PGhZjZyhpH-x8uxsKf1KkTSYJoxyUPp0aTsqorqgPv0c4MaDi5e9LfF7FqYZqaJ_JSJLwfa8pbpnuIt1fmUBM3ghdng/s400/IMG_0179.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260768498850962450" border="0" /></a><br />The Boyz at a Raiders Game (Mike, Matt, Dave, Phil)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcFNOmZ1kImH8jmTlfWvYf6oRFAEZ3yWdqIlDSNDzD95x_LP6nLLb6Z5p7SN_J1bqJbR_1I7Wg9ijfLEeehThXtrLdWjJc4E2_hF3ExTDwNM16AVtCP8Qc90b5mAzlWvw28AqMhbTLqrV/s1600-h/IMG_0202.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcFNOmZ1kImH8jmTlfWvYf6oRFAEZ3yWdqIlDSNDzD95x_LP6nLLb6Z5p7SN_J1bqJbR_1I7Wg9ijfLEeehThXtrLdWjJc4E2_hF3ExTDwNM16AVtCP8Qc90b5mAzlWvw28AqMhbTLqrV/s400/IMG_0202.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260768482832325218" border="0" /></a><br />Zoey, Mike, Matt, and Kate<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiVWzUxwUurvYXbKBNAaM8URigXfaW4go2zH1cVtJjrY8mOjSxCESoN8sLWT_eP_EHZN57kRWX_k5Ha3QlZzKblYAR1QLWmnEvgylNcAAvjemd_U5cSREfWrorAOYihiUafY5lFzQrpMl/s1600-h/DSCN1796.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiVWzUxwUurvYXbKBNAaM8URigXfaW4go2zH1cVtJjrY8mOjSxCESoN8sLWT_eP_EHZN57kRWX_k5Ha3QlZzKblYAR1QLWmnEvgylNcAAvjemd_U5cSREfWrorAOYihiUafY5lFzQrpMl/s400/DSCN1796.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260768467171846786" border="0" /></a><br />Matt, Kate, Stripey (the Rat) and Noodle (the Dog)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIIEbSfj6VZFrOiHwugMKjtR9bJ3zfrOPinO9xDGUqp4-W09QMz4Me-6wzPfzg4zbvwe2BUuKkkuzv63dAlpfSmB2Mf83PYsn85PrcFu1tBOBOXPfqWtGhWYWWAVo8Y1YKyfa9zl7zJ5C/s1600-h/DSCN0998.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIIEbSfj6VZFrOiHwugMKjtR9bJ3zfrOPinO9xDGUqp4-W09QMz4Me-6wzPfzg4zbvwe2BUuKkkuzv63dAlpfSmB2Mf83PYsn85PrcFu1tBOBOXPfqWtGhWYWWAVo8Y1YKyfa9zl7zJ5C/s400/DSCN0998.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260768460906110082" border="0" /></a>Erica, Kate, Bridget and GraceTracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-68827871092584619042008-10-13T20:09:00.001-07:002008-10-13T20:15:44.146-07:00Photos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9hGjc_rvSWDHHx17u_IJMdhyn7MYkpLZvKrlQrwuP2dS13RpAUb8oBTMwC_XEGkgpf2R6o5mVOMusDA3teJrTmbRzgYNU4qNVvvYjAJHCEmYtnBEYJqaD-0I8XGGhvlDwu_kK8pBJGnI/s1600-h/Mike+Datou+Moira+Bill.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhq7TdkplTdPgJghyphenhyphenrRf34TWTYXlS0VMov62PZxKcxLZsxCuP_H4A3liOb8t4_xsZt1-8CcihEnTZPJQnWz7gQIDG_Azv15MUTjfPPU4sNE_0ipGywyxeMDyoXtEki3FW1__RBioYDA8u6/s320/Katie+Erica+Monterey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256842142683935874" border="0" /></a>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-60094195161963797772008-10-13T20:00:00.001-07:002008-10-13T20:09:13.353-07:00Photos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6fW-Ovp3lxSf6yiFX1u7-q6PSojBQpv8ZAaG0gXT47kDny5EyVhj1q9QKzj4IjaS-eQw-13iRd-LUrhcT_tyo6YvNYYf7HMFXao5gc-CaNBx64d76q9DCTHgYtIyaE-BUsvlRB3dSBFx/s1600-h/IMG_1300.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6fW-Ovp3lxSf6yiFX1u7-q6PSojBQpv8ZAaG0gXT47kDny5EyVhj1q9QKzj4IjaS-eQw-13iRd-LUrhcT_tyo6YvNYYf7HMFXao5gc-CaNBx64d76q9DCTHgYtIyaE-BUsvlRB3dSBFx/s320/IMG_1300.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256841296119352242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZOyKL96_wSb2IoDqtlwpB-Q3AWfdGZvjlAiQUTqLbJXekaE77-ehljwQc75_5293vk4KKL6SLLx6dmhUf6ILtoQSEjOYILpd46gj8auEescOG8Q4ow85JgrCjzcHRcv5fNUNA8eKp_Uj/s1600-h/Happy+Matt+and+Grace.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZOyKL96_wSb2IoDqtlwpB-Q3AWfdGZvjlAiQUTqLbJXekaE77-ehljwQc75_5293vk4KKL6SLLx6dmhUf6ILtoQSEjOYILpd46gj8auEescOG8Q4ow85JgrCjzcHRcv5fNUNA8eKp_Uj/s320/Happy+Matt+and+Grace.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256841153961441058" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ctz2iFpM_4cu5lTIjhpoG64wM2Lq_TKysADLyk1iWGxyqsPsGcvdnjeL3qo9yKXaXBO9Mix5YpWHnspXh5M0OCKsGfX8nmA-us7qfsNI9QWXE4TsXlE-0GAIFaSWMMH_CZH8X2w9oa6l/s1600-h/Family.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ctz2iFpM_4cu5lTIjhpoG64wM2Lq_TKysADLyk1iWGxyqsPsGcvdnjeL3qo9yKXaXBO9Mix5YpWHnspXh5M0OCKsGfX8nmA-us7qfsNI9QWXE4TsXlE-0GAIFaSWMMH_CZH8X2w9oa6l/s320/Family.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256840878442698866" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcfWRI5NFz0v_pibSLO9bJtHm5zuEIg8IBqLybpSl81pdv6faifNc_sj10lxywBhJX-CmnVLalJs38eFcBbAvUbGhuzs7-UvjTHKjVp_sD-LmfI_MpfP5IT7fJt0mImbZXoZhtBVhFy2J0/s1600-h/Family+Monterey+Action+Photo+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcfWRI5NFz0v_pibSLO9bJtHm5zuEIg8IBqLybpSl81pdv6faifNc_sj10lxywBhJX-CmnVLalJs38eFcBbAvUbGhuzs7-UvjTHKjVp_sD-LmfI_MpfP5IT7fJt0mImbZXoZhtBVhFy2J0/s320/Family+Monterey+Action+Photo+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256840368861337874" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1eGlsLPtG8rvL5mXN6cc5y7B090Rn4MmoOSRhjtUjxBUyquD66TpdTPom2WGYbxJVLpBx99WgaLBZqojA-4omi1SGZAKnOpyOa81rRD6yS1H7htqMsqL1eKzrxOHMR20Flx5mOxnWKSZw/s1600-h/Family+Monterey+Action+Photo+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1eGlsLPtG8rvL5mXN6cc5y7B090Rn4MmoOSRhjtUjxBUyquD66TpdTPom2WGYbxJVLpBx99WgaLBZqojA-4omi1SGZAKnOpyOa81rRD6yS1H7htqMsqL1eKzrxOHMR20Flx5mOxnWKSZw/s320/Family+Monterey+Action+Photo+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256840155343819314" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KGQMkFDlHnO9GUYZWA84Cg6LkfOni5gvIBXmqnaA10S0CrKhWRceGstEqUyskBeZR1B5Z5YGsUjAtVEf614Cc2VkWSiKC69iHu31uQFHzlE-abrc4fofN0GnnKeDN3IdWaK8OCnuzH_N/s1600-h/Family+Dinner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KGQMkFDlHnO9GUYZWA84Cg6LkfOni5gvIBXmqnaA10S0CrKhWRceGstEqUyskBeZR1B5Z5YGsUjAtVEf614Cc2VkWSiKC69iHu31uQFHzlE-abrc4fofN0GnnKeDN3IdWaK8OCnuzH_N/s320/Family+Dinner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256839864623632834" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-WLnRuw8KNAUxqz3qt8XmNZBQSzWcDoa_FpePClFMB9emsebNe3FrA70BE_GvjHjkOXleTuZFzSXc75JkSM3oep7lDVtqCv-oFpMqg4mn5QRkDN0QAtpW7yUXErTLrwKHv4-jSl_FdBTa/s1600-h/Erica+Katie+Moira+Couch.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-WLnRuw8KNAUxqz3qt8XmNZBQSzWcDoa_FpePClFMB9emsebNe3FrA70BE_GvjHjkOXleTuZFzSXc75JkSM3oep7lDVtqCv-oFpMqg4mn5QRkDN0QAtpW7yUXErTLrwKHv4-jSl_FdBTa/s320/Erica+Katie+Moira+Couch.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256839645870998786" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-Tj4ffYDZUIS1ihf-31RGv8PxiZYs_AzmX8Z-cSsKPnMB0e1mT6Kn2_6PANA_KrxW44GYYR0b3tp50LQxp_cOAo1Yus5r6L8ve_IZvKMKq51pUZkR3hwcxyKVAxJZi4do3sXw5Yta9Tq/s1600-h/Bill+and+Bridget.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-Tj4ffYDZUIS1ihf-31RGv8PxiZYs_AzmX8Z-cSsKPnMB0e1mT6Kn2_6PANA_KrxW44GYYR0b3tp50LQxp_cOAo1Yus5r6L8ve_IZvKMKq51pUZkR3hwcxyKVAxJZi4do3sXw5Yta9Tq/s320/Bill+and+Bridget.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256839455915165122" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCIcpbGhrHP4uvQDTKbaMZgVazjyC_UmxNiwZYIjNtmGSs2B4ePnFFdvWuDGwxA5Rs8-UrsSMxApcqBBSNUcWDUBTVP5JG1mzr4uSPacHpzsKrVN3RiI2WOOVwLu3kxugDu4760RxFGVNX/s1600-h/5+Girls+Monterey.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCIcpbGhrHP4uvQDTKbaMZgVazjyC_UmxNiwZYIjNtmGSs2B4ePnFFdvWuDGwxA5Rs8-UrsSMxApcqBBSNUcWDUBTVP5JG1mzr4uSPacHpzsKrVN3RiI2WOOVwLu3kxugDu4760RxFGVNX/s320/5+Girls+Monterey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256839388716173122" border="0" /></a>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-3871746627696657582008-10-03T10:30:00.000-07:002008-10-03T10:31:34.887-07:00Quotes<pre style="font-family: arial;" wrap=""><span style="font-size:100%;">Bill Reagon recalls this exchange at Grandma Meade's funeral service<br />(Matt was commenting on Bill's suit):<br /><br />Matt: Bill, we are but a dim star in your sartorial splendor.<br />Bill Unger: (after a pause) Matt, we've missed you.</span></pre>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-59622128315324948402008-10-01T13:48:00.001-07:002008-10-01T13:50:19.906-07:00The Ol'Days<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhZcjlCz_LJ5bd0WbRxHH8OqL3dchClh6eTLRj6b4ZXbEO5cQS4UUZHd5HUwdYwF2-s8Fl6sDn_RFQSkvi0bv1_LJM4xKzV7aOZjaUf4rkAO1rVQt74NkwBb-xHH2_3Hvxxctf00jgPr-/s1600-h/Afro_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhZcjlCz_LJ5bd0WbRxHH8OqL3dchClh6eTLRj6b4ZXbEO5cQS4UUZHd5HUwdYwF2-s8Fl6sDn_RFQSkvi0bv1_LJM4xKzV7aOZjaUf4rkAO1rVQt74NkwBb-xHH2_3Hvxxctf00jgPr-/s320/Afro_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252290375777638626" border="0" /></a><br />Mike, Dave, Bill, Matt<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-MnpfgN9vgfidanfEpEqcknsL4ao5HAwjAHg07SjXv5e5ki6KXyXFuNIN1Lhi3STFCwrrEdgCjq0jbOJAJPv_ckLyEAcHC-0LYVJueIn3_HHQGt7rHorFcFDB5nB2yUTua2_3dcKYGwz/s1600-h/junnk3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-MnpfgN9vgfidanfEpEqcknsL4ao5HAwjAHg07SjXv5e5ki6KXyXFuNIN1Lhi3STFCwrrEdgCjq0jbOJAJPv_ckLyEAcHC-0LYVJueIn3_HHQGt7rHorFcFDB5nB2yUTua2_3dcKYGwz/s320/junnk3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252290475764273938" border="0" /></a><br />Saabland, NYTracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-83456790425873454382008-10-01T13:44:00.000-07:002008-10-01T13:47:54.793-07:00Family Photos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCYJCSMWLz8uYIKFqLfuzCyDxR_8xYGuMiMNTlV73Ll9TwGKQuJBD4TTLxO4YsHgPi4tjeCay2wijOIyRgEWZpQCRWpxyv2g3JXurGPdigifnMkuToYWIM2QvD-Z-Tyz1HMJ0wbdUuxYRp/s1600-h/IMG_8867.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCYJCSMWLz8uYIKFqLfuzCyDxR_8xYGuMiMNTlV73Ll9TwGKQuJBD4TTLxO4YsHgPi4tjeCay2wijOIyRgEWZpQCRWpxyv2g3JXurGPdigifnMkuToYWIM2QvD-Z-Tyz1HMJ0wbdUuxYRp/s320/IMG_8867.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252289608237198482" border="0" /></a>Datou (David), Moira, Kate<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ARHgR2qQ8vBYWyefWPFfPOttjJ2_qRSw_ZEO-lb68rUbn5Ld6oWiBntO1AmDrUxDzvhDabQQ02i1grSXY8FnE9m7kGnCydYqJntk4r_mJm4LzBq64tLUOAUNn2uGFe3VnADlqdVWcH5n/s1600-h/IMG_4087.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ARHgR2qQ8vBYWyefWPFfPOttjJ2_qRSw_ZEO-lb68rUbn5Ld6oWiBntO1AmDrUxDzvhDabQQ02i1grSXY8FnE9m7kGnCydYqJntk4r_mJm4LzBq64tLUOAUNn2uGFe3VnADlqdVWcH5n/s320/IMG_4087.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252289510579953538" border="0" /></a>Kate and Moira<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hoaFSV0_X1O4iDtxihyphenhyphenThoN5oTxKKJQT6HcwOsxk0TjqdTYyJfV5FGso32cvzY-udyZ7IDzFZ0hwOZi6moQoj-S_78JXiT2UcrKrhN_9Tm7_bSTcJXjOwkf7oKyTH6e0rlu3naUMLEfh/s1600-h/Erica+and+Kate.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hoaFSV0_X1O4iDtxihyphenhyphenThoN5oTxKKJQT6HcwOsxk0TjqdTYyJfV5FGso32cvzY-udyZ7IDzFZ0hwOZi6moQoj-S_78JXiT2UcrKrhN_9Tm7_bSTcJXjOwkf7oKyTH6e0rlu3naUMLEfh/s320/Erica+and+Kate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252289414731609858" border="0" /></a>Erica and Kate<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93NOfyzBvidOuayXqP6uvkfnUq00m67oQbYOhB9REooRgqikMxnzETmZlKIZ3Jcn9BRyhyZOU7hFgshkSdr1qgTnXQ9-kl7W-b-VwCaEhIlNucAg7zwzTxv8zs6AepfLuq7da_YiYt_yz/s1600-h/Bill+and+Bridget.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93NOfyzBvidOuayXqP6uvkfnUq00m67oQbYOhB9REooRgqikMxnzETmZlKIZ3Jcn9BRyhyZOU7hFgshkSdr1qgTnXQ9-kl7W-b-VwCaEhIlNucAg7zwzTxv8zs6AepfLuq7da_YiYt_yz/s320/Bill+and+Bridget.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252289328002565682" border="0" /></a>Bill and BridgetTracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-46614799193006095342008-09-24T09:44:00.000-07:002008-09-24T09:47:25.432-07:00From Heather W. Reichgott<h2 class="date-header"><a href="http://holy-vignettes.blogspot.com">Holy Vignettes</a><br /></h2><br />Thursday, June 12, 2008 <a name="4162535275959282671"></a> <h3 class="post-title entry-title"> <a href="http://holy-vignettes.blogspot.com/2008/06/in-memoriam-matt-reagon.html">in memoriam: matt reagon</a> </h3> My friend and seminary colleague Matt Reagon died last weekend. He was in his thirties. In the middle of shock and confusion--we tended toward infrequent but deep conversations, and I last saw him in October, at which point there was no word of illness beyond an ear condition he'd had for a long time, so I'm still scrambling for news about what happened exactly--I want to set down some words to serve as a loving celebration of the little bit of Matt's life I got to share.<br /><br />Matt threw himself into everything he did with tremendous energy, even when it meant putting five children to bed and then arriving at the library at 10:30 pm. He had a gift for biblical languages. He loved Hebrew with a particular passion and delighted in throwing Hebrew words into casual conversation. When we last spoke he was headed away from parish ministry and toward advanced work in biblical languages. He was brilliant and obsessive and relentless in all the right ways. He would have made a perfect biblical languages scholar.<br /><br />Years of work refinishing floors gave Matt a worker's hands and a lot of physical pain. The ear condition he suffered contributed more pain and dizziness. Matt went through several surgeries without much in the way of painkiller medication, because painkillers are usually derived from opium. He refused to give up on the sobriety he'd worked so hard to attain, even when it meant daily suffering that most of us wouldn't tolerate without pills.<br /><br />Matt loved God and hated hypocrisy. He was always reverently irreverent, if such a thing makes sense. This put him in good company where Christianity is concerned. It also put him at odds with most elements of organized religion.<br /><br />Matt enjoyed a good argument and often used the argument as his standard mode of conversation. You had to like conflict to like Matt. He was smarter than most people he encountered. He did not suffer fools gladly. He had less than zero patience for sanctimonious discretion.<br /><br />When Matt went through divorce and remarriage during seminary, he was in good company--heterosexual couples on campus were divorcing and remarrying at an alarming rate while our class was there. Students and staff included. The difference was that Matt refused to go away quietly until everything was all nicely settled and he had a shiny new traditional-looking family to show for it. Instead of hiding the life-shattering event of divorce and subsequent blending into a new family, Matt and his family went about their business as best they could, despite some very explicit pressure from the school administration to leave until the situation would no longer embarrass anyone. He and his new spouse devoted themselves to the care of five children who had already been through enough upheaval. "Integrity" may not be the word to describe divorce and remarriage; but for those of us who care about that particular virtue, Matt's choices against the background of look-good seminary culture gave us something to think about.<br /><br />I will miss Matt every time I open my Hebrew Bible, every time I go to an academic conference, every time I think about our church community in San Anselmo, every time I encounter a blended family, every time I remember the courses and the coffee-shop tables that brought us together. And I will try to honor Matt every time I choose the hard but honest path over the easy but secretive or addictive path.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-2554281972558381752008-09-24T09:38:00.000-07:002008-09-24T09:42:23.757-07:00From Alison Aske<h2 class="date-header">Alison's Blog: <a href="http://alimum.blogspot.com">Welcome to my closet, here's a black dress</a></h2><br /><br /><h2 class="date-header">Monday, July 28, 2008</h2> <!-- Begin .post --> <a name="8006211932401169551"></a> <h3 class="post-title"> Look Back </h3> A friend of mine from college died last month. <a href="http://holy-vignettes.blogspot.com/2008/06/in-memoriam-matt-reagon.html">Other people have done a much better job of writing about him, his life, and the people he left behind</a><span>. You should really go read that instead.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1sKpabidJYcIJ78jOk3mtnxgQoX5qu05WV3FBD9EKaN2j9sIS87zvxS7RGpvqUSF63zgzYh_snMjpCvTP55mnGn5OClWQUeA8An1ty21b7BJabPfzk04b73Fckwe4GzUACUsDxthdFhJ/s1600-h/matt2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 322px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1sKpabidJYcIJ78jOk3mtnxgQoX5qu05WV3FBD9EKaN2j9sIS87zvxS7RGpvqUSF63zgzYh_snMjpCvTP55mnGn5OClWQUeA8An1ty21b7BJabPfzk04b73Fckwe4GzUACUsDxthdFhJ/s400/matt2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227937054061567282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun<br />-Roger Waters</span><br /><br />I want to write of fire and rain, of carbon destroyed by the very pressures that briefly turned it into diamond, of supernovas and chaos, of disappointment and love. The truth is that my limitations as a writer make it impossible for me to do justice to the complex individual that was Matt Reagon.<br /><br />Matt was chaotic and fabulous and terrible and brilliant and destructive and charming and arrogant. He was never invisible. He never swallowed his pride and he never tempered his rage because circumstances demanded he do so. He never took the easy way. He fought, even when fighting was ill-advised and he struggled with demons that most of us can barely imagine. There was never a middle ground, you loved him or hated him.<br /><br />I thought I could just write down all my memories of Matt, in the hopes that a collage of experiences might allow glimpses into who he was<br /><blockquote><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 85%;">There was a brief period of time when we called him Pleasure Boy (his high school girlfriend had visited and written something on him and Zil had teased him saying she must have written “hands off, Matt is my pleasure boy”—or maybe she actually wrote that and Zil saw it, I can’t remember). Then we stopped because too many people started doing it and it felt wrong.</span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">We saw the film, <i style="">Damage</i>, and found it to be pretty awful. At one point, Jeremy Irons, with perfect PoMo inarticulateness, choked out, “I’ve never felt” and Matt shouted out “An erection.” Immature, yes, but if you have ever seen the film, it actually rings true.</span></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 85%;">Matt, aware that I was afraid of rats, would chase me around the room trying to get me to pet Finnegan, Tracy's pet rat.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></blockquote>But really, these are just funny stories from when we were practically children, they don't really tell you anything about the man he grew up to become. Really, they just are about who we were back then, or maybe who we thought we were. Who was that? <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city> said it best when she said that we thought we were Bukowski. We thought we were living in 1930s Paris and we looked to Anais Nin and Henry Miller as role models for relationships. It never occurred to us how totally fucked up that sort of life could be. All we saw was the intensity, the brilliance, and thought that the real life lived by most people was boring.<br /><br />And part of my problem is that so many of my memories are about Tracy and, maybe, the whole story of Matt, as far as I am concerned, is about Tracy. Because while I was friends with Matt, I didn’t connect to him the way I connected with Tracy and we might not have stayed friends after college except that he was married to Tracy. Even before their separation and subsequent divorce, my relationship with him had devolved to small talk if he happened to pick up the phone when I was calling her.<br /><br />Fred says he can’t imagine a world without Matt in it. I thought it an odd thing to say, considering Matt has not really been a part of our lives for years, but the more I think about it, the more true it seems. In a way I can’t articulate, I never stopped being Matt’s friend and I hope he never stopped being mine. And the world seems a little more empty now.<br /><br />I don't really think I can do him justice in words. So why am I here, pretending he is Seymour Glass and I am J.D. Salinger? Because I am remote, my loss is not concrete, so I must try to define it for you as I try to define it for myself. The truth is that I didn't know the man who lived and died in 2008, I am mourning the boy I knew years ago and our shared past. However, I can say the Matt I knew was restless and that didn't change, so I hope that Matt’s soul has found the peace he was not able to find in life.<br /><br />Please note, <a href="http://rememberingmattreagon.blogspot.com/">Tracy created a website where people can go to remember Matt</a>, read the obituaries, and see pictures of him and the non-traditional family. As she noted in the Reed obituary, Matt viewed the creation of this family as his great accomplishment in life.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-42876179052448670242008-09-20T20:36:00.000-07:002008-09-20T20:44:28.511-07:00Mountaineering<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnjOMZpQpMJMVrIdgCqv-witNQh9Y9-nPbnt6-rJdFIEkxYxJCC8_xs5SUosWEXE7UOwToLlIMguZy0RXGF1T6d1URQ0hnODrpIYnns_HcngFCQq4E-SFoHxOPhA46ZJr8SiAwRGiCe0C/s1600-h/Matt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnjOMZpQpMJMVrIdgCqv-witNQh9Y9-nPbnt6-rJdFIEkxYxJCC8_xs5SUosWEXE7UOwToLlIMguZy0RXGF1T6d1URQ0hnODrpIYnns_HcngFCQq4E-SFoHxOPhA46ZJr8SiAwRGiCe0C/s320/Matt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248315260111346242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM8DOXjXsrWy2x2YukrGUIyXMq90ONpNURJAyGoUgz4LaN5RD-D33azaDax5X9cBJ8oGCJiWLUrDu4vttO0PLqPAf5m-Tcp9lxz48MceRvt_Jr3BO8IvnGX1NAQgEBpWQnhh7hnqm_TMPe/s1600-h/IMG_5237.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM8DOXjXsrWy2x2YukrGUIyXMq90ONpNURJAyGoUgz4LaN5RD-D33azaDax5X9cBJ8oGCJiWLUrDu4vttO0PLqPAf5m-Tcp9lxz48MceRvt_Jr3BO8IvnGX1NAQgEBpWQnhh7hnqm_TMPe/s320/IMG_5237.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248314959350448930" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtw_J21g5FYOgKXdlMxBPsxq7WxXPclradV1AG8MLt5RxCJ2IZMtxFRoGUPr2TtVrVI1vRfunexEXdvDFMWppSm6qpH3cBXFqY1S0ivWHzdzFJPJcBsK9MVaegfuhRXN1L9K-B45bCvyN/s1600-h/IMG_0063.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtw_J21g5FYOgKXdlMxBPsxq7WxXPclradV1AG8MLt5RxCJ2IZMtxFRoGUPr2TtVrVI1vRfunexEXdvDFMWppSm6qpH3cBXFqY1S0ivWHzdzFJPJcBsK9MVaegfuhRXN1L9K-B45bCvyN/s320/IMG_0063.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248314545953297042" border="0" /></a>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-27285523636094024302008-09-17T10:06:00.000-07:002008-09-24T09:37:39.995-07:00Fundamental Floors<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLMpSC1eKz8IWUFMxpGlUs5KoxUZEE8aV3yktICGgWLjHpApUTfjb66xCEDhLO6xu2msclAoRb5_WnkMvEW3VPmHvFAKDsZ1Qq2bVszdLe0CCVjj8Dvr5nPoT3n7DH-1EDdlTrRvoNjkS/s1600-h/IMG_4912.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLMpSC1eKz8IWUFMxpGlUs5KoxUZEE8aV3yktICGgWLjHpApUTfjb66xCEDhLO6xu2msclAoRb5_WnkMvEW3VPmHvFAKDsZ1Qq2bVszdLe0CCVjj8Dvr5nPoT3n7DH-1EDdlTrRvoNjkS/s320/IMG_4912.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247038791052555570" border="0" /></a><br />Here is a review of Fundamental Floors from one of Matt's customers on Yelp:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/fundamental-floors-san-anselmo#hrid:uxIFYDmIIQfbYYXmjdJ3vQ/query:floors">Our new house was completely covered in snow white carpet, but lurking underneath was an oak floor crying to be freed from it's low pile infested hell, so we naturally checked Yelp. Fundamental Floors was the only one listed, so we got in touch.<br /><br />After checking out some of his work, Matt rolled to our house in his tank-like Chevy, with devious apprentice in tow, and proceeded to unleash the dogs of hell on our floors. There were holes, there was moisture damage, and there was a curious patch where an escaped lunatic took a circular saw to the hallway. None of that mattered though as they sanded, buffed, repaired, and filled their way to the finish line. In a week, he yanked the carpet, installed new wood where it was needed, built a kickass border around our fireplace, and even made some custom transition strips for where the floors backed onto tile.<br /><br />Truth be told, Matt's a little goofy. Hey, I'd be too if I was around those chemicals all day. He kinda puts the mental into Fundamental. But he did a great job, at a really competitive price, and he stands by his work. If you need some work done to your wood, give Matt a call, and avoid seeing your floors until they're done!<br /><br />UPDATE: 6/11/2008. I just got a call from Matt's wife. Seems he talked about us with his wife a lot, and how much he enjoyed working with my wife and I. Unfortunately, the phone call was bad news. Matt passed away this past Saturday. I thought about deleting this review, but will leave it up in memoriam. Corny, I know - but his work was awesome, and I'd like to think that people should know that. Bye Matt - you did a great job, and you were a great guy.<br /></a>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-21839218541494694602008-09-13T08:09:00.001-07:002008-09-13T08:26:21.354-07:00Photos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNzxpmBUyy9NSPR79WtA3rUDix-bU2bH_A5ba_wX7FxB_AOvs46HZVxUKuWwGCpeMzOb6BjUk1BYfbIarni9Ktfa3DJD8EVQjSumLjIFNbXOanvble_C8xLlL3_l8nrs_xBa6QNbkejgN/s1600-h/IMG_6033.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNzxpmBUyy9NSPR79WtA3rUDix-bU2bH_A5ba_wX7FxB_AOvs46HZVxUKuWwGCpeMzOb6BjUk1BYfbIarni9Ktfa3DJD8EVQjSumLjIFNbXOanvble_C8xLlL3_l8nrs_xBa6QNbkejgN/s320/IMG_6033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245527477122132706" border="0" /></a>Grace and Ally<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BqWCaqMH4HHPpsAvBsImHPctU7SF2FqBMzIpesqd6FD_pG6oeCTynFsg0SrAcJwTy4BS76FfeH_cAo7bYKb607Ze8dLc2Hcp-3lDERI_KKIbsndZd8dqj8Tbhq2QkvOnuYv08QitfvER/s1600-h/IMG_5684.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BqWCaqMH4HHPpsAvBsImHPctU7SF2FqBMzIpesqd6FD_pG6oeCTynFsg0SrAcJwTy4BS76FfeH_cAo7bYKb607Ze8dLc2Hcp-3lDERI_KKIbsndZd8dqj8Tbhq2QkvOnuYv08QitfvER/s320/IMG_5684.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245527275883922098" border="0" /></a>Grace<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCVAJDEFc6673rQswV3n_9oDfknSWtckJnLpCZrt62aSGVuZRxW4kVnLihyphenhyphengUDFqW_pF4NpCG1C8C7Prr7hzHlFYPVrUsIZLu9NIkppamWKQzDMoelIRbq0VaE8YT95hgon9gmeTfVlAi/s1600-h/IMG_5605.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCVAJDEFc6673rQswV3n_9oDfknSWtckJnLpCZrt62aSGVuZRxW4kVnLihyphenhyphengUDFqW_pF4NpCG1C8C7Prr7hzHlFYPVrUsIZLu9NIkppamWKQzDMoelIRbq0VaE8YT95hgon9gmeTfVlAi/s320/IMG_5605.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245525587618031810" border="0" /></a>Matt and the Blondes<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXFbjBM-O476asCGFm_DG8gp3RZrbHQuCQEbfHSxttuNAaNMteJQ-A_U3V7MvUIk-l0VIzr4VFhUu_JWNTjiKBjb9TWyqhvub05zOG6jir1f4ECD4YqifhO4fTS2ZM59JpgCQi8n3-yVYI/s1600-h/IMG_3128.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXFbjBM-O476asCGFm_DG8gp3RZrbHQuCQEbfHSxttuNAaNMteJQ-A_U3V7MvUIk-l0VIzr4VFhUu_JWNTjiKBjb9TWyqhvub05zOG6jir1f4ECD4YqifhO4fTS2ZM59JpgCQi8n3-yVYI/s320/IMG_3128.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245525136688229986" border="0" /></a>Kate<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWedV0ZXU_XpHWGVA-WJrTClUY1QmmiUFF7yWIzZdLMz3qe_PMzGBFTETD_2Q-7E2V8yI3Bdy55RSFvw_9-X7OfWT75s3UOAPrCGLEqTtUpKOADqe03lmbAigXbNa9IQZJqMwOyRHmcyi/s1600-h/IMG_3118.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWedV0ZXU_XpHWGVA-WJrTClUY1QmmiUFF7yWIzZdLMz3qe_PMzGBFTETD_2Q-7E2V8yI3Bdy55RSFvw_9-X7OfWT75s3UOAPrCGLEqTtUpKOADqe03lmbAigXbNa9IQZJqMwOyRHmcyi/s320/IMG_3118.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245524891548908402" border="0" /></a>Bridget<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEuRGmWiFgWiUr3eUac-Dil9Z0R2fFEWAZfPYGBhfVSyQh49VeBMAgVBvsJx_5I9JrhQjBFuWcMKDczwrg2PjQqjxQkMo8BxeALzN_Yi8bEOWnMLwNje-RmNiZhL3GHj1KxR9OIzGOXeE/s1600-h/IMG_2898.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEuRGmWiFgWiUr3eUac-Dil9Z0R2fFEWAZfPYGBhfVSyQh49VeBMAgVBvsJx_5I9JrhQjBFuWcMKDczwrg2PjQqjxQkMo8BxeALzN_Yi8bEOWnMLwNje-RmNiZhL3GHj1KxR9OIzGOXeE/s320/IMG_2898.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245524542494375202" border="0" /></a>Moira, Bridget, Kate<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KtnW3loBwVv0W8paaCev6mhbeoic_4dgnrxceQOUnuXXdf1N_p8pFecA0EtDeV-LRelbAkejXdYtXesnipFcwT4F9j1KwOHa5SMPPkiufKZZisB4QZSk_ZdjosyxM_XYKrEf1pFByIjJ/s1600-h/IMG_0150.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KtnW3loBwVv0W8paaCev6mhbeoic_4dgnrxceQOUnuXXdf1N_p8pFecA0EtDeV-LRelbAkejXdYtXesnipFcwT4F9j1KwOHa5SMPPkiufKZZisB4QZSk_ZdjosyxM_XYKrEf1pFByIjJ/s320/IMG_0150.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245524262313766914" border="0" /></a>Kate and Grace<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZmi5fBW2EuTXf0PK5c4GAH1Yix64GFCu9y59opitne89Pq2z3iG4e1TUYcrAfFgvpdIBbvNpoLPJQ1K_2DCSdnW7tsI1KAf8_Bb6oaCJFRAsARzaRhbD7z5E09wXI_WUodz51reFnPiyW/s1600-h/IMG_0199.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZmi5fBW2EuTXf0PK5c4GAH1Yix64GFCu9y59opitne89Pq2z3iG4e1TUYcrAfFgvpdIBbvNpoLPJQ1K_2DCSdnW7tsI1KAf8_Bb6oaCJFRAsARzaRhbD7z5E09wXI_WUodz51reFnPiyW/s320/IMG_0199.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245523811450683522" border="0" /></a><br />Matt and BridgetTracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-27475455058241205302008-09-13T07:35:00.000-07:002008-09-13T07:55:42.641-07:00Photos<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBXl2ObXnfxQgGW2PvPHqyU9N9f1CULoekh6I71ituegGafbL1zjmptqtiPiyha2DifKuPYETvBlXHyUPx4-Oy8g3xMz32hKI5_rgneBBRyBx_hGMWDoCFXEjIGVld1VKFw7kdgoXvNNRv/s1600-h/IMG_6078.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBXl2ObXnfxQgGW2PvPHqyU9N9f1CULoekh6I71ituegGafbL1zjmptqtiPiyha2DifKuPYETvBlXHyUPx4-Oy8g3xMz32hKI5_rgneBBRyBx_hGMWDoCFXEjIGVld1VKFw7kdgoXvNNRv/s320/IMG_6078.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245519423326586194" border="0" /></a>Bridget, Kate, Moira<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKaCr_tQAVuajqRDeZM3hzatF-TjUD_3n2VN6qfgrVKpIUvUOj2N91WprnGq7tWOnIoBE7x0MOFm_5gDXN8dFoP0hvNJkC1Th73mppMx3N2zj9OESB011bAlKbm4r8rhAbCn8vrADJGio/s1600-h/IMG_5923.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKaCr_tQAVuajqRDeZM3hzatF-TjUD_3n2VN6qfgrVKpIUvUOj2N91WprnGq7tWOnIoBE7x0MOFm_5gDXN8dFoP0hvNJkC1Th73mppMx3N2zj9OESB011bAlKbm4r8rhAbCn8vrADJGio/s320/IMG_5923.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245518874345531474" border="0" /></a>Matt, Mike, Bill<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEHGDLf_AzOFnQoqqDwIcM37ol3Zmac2rYV35iNLebG7s3ZpP1FJJyVIf5QwineFQeCSrx7Lkl1tydjQJN3LXgjLLBga_aSMcfAU4vmCx8zxAHfxo4JXQd1ALzdtUjIuJ6ysShJ6ZoDX6/s1600-h/IMG_5205.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEHGDLf_AzOFnQoqqDwIcM37ol3Zmac2rYV35iNLebG7s3ZpP1FJJyVIf5QwineFQeCSrx7Lkl1tydjQJN3LXgjLLBga_aSMcfAU4vmCx8zxAHfxo4JXQd1ALzdtUjIuJ6ysShJ6ZoDX6/s320/IMG_5205.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245517877174622098" border="0" /></a>Lynn and Matt<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBd9kV4msGI4crLDtv_IM_2z0O1II73hXXgRSxQ0hc9kp0Pod2myugdjFL4_VfTv0YBUBh52cLg-2heRrHF6xPZIjPDdyigC3bR7r_QkB2JO54xOONpcZ9gSEsOmCxdPl0vwgUvFIXgxNG/s1600-h/IMG_4976.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBd9kV4msGI4crLDtv_IM_2z0O1II73hXXgRSxQ0hc9kp0Pod2myugdjFL4_VfTv0YBUBh52cLg-2heRrHF6xPZIjPDdyigC3bR7r_QkB2JO54xOONpcZ9gSEsOmCxdPl0vwgUvFIXgxNG/s320/IMG_4976.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245517110590960082" border="0" /></a>Matt and Kate<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyszPw4tf63n4dE0WPm6lxtoJwNPKS6UGB1NVTh9bnjnbrAjUnLr_DK1-awj5WT9liFrdKgfGrUCKyWfTBxLQQ8ldGAn6ojXfT15XEHo7bBieUQ1R9S2QUkUQz5Zf844IWoJYi6jTramaR/s1600-h/IMG_4948.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyszPw4tf63n4dE0WPm6lxtoJwNPKS6UGB1NVTh9bnjnbrAjUnLr_DK1-awj5WT9liFrdKgfGrUCKyWfTBxLQQ8ldGAn6ojXfT15XEHo7bBieUQ1R9S2QUkUQz5Zf844IWoJYi6jTramaR/s320/IMG_4948.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245516568171773330" border="0" /></a>Matt, Moira, Bill, Zoey<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXn9U20Z_9LE6Hl9vJvs4YUfRciVa9Qrim3AWWUMDbOUa_J2wqg8R_Ec6ssVTxhUBBMTiSXyIubcqI6Yi-YPFqG66cdNE6WreElHXW7r-v5MglrJ6QrFYLKXZcxa4SOd7DSV18c8uQ6xcY/s1600-h/IMG_4945.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXn9U20Z_9LE6Hl9vJvs4YUfRciVa9Qrim3AWWUMDbOUa_J2wqg8R_Ec6ssVTxhUBBMTiSXyIubcqI6Yi-YPFqG66cdNE6WreElHXW7r-v5MglrJ6QrFYLKXZcxa4SOd7DSV18c8uQ6xcY/s320/IMG_4945.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245515581598575394" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Su Su, Mike, Ally, Lynn, Moira, Bridget, Matt, Kate, Grace, Mama SuTracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-73340851125366612472008-09-12T16:58:00.000-07:002008-09-13T08:09:34.227-07:00Cast of Characters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbo6E3iVGkykK8XJNWhWRycwXkwUT59zFWiN7ZMEY_9aBeC-VZddAmITkXw1kO9YuznkZEgI2IXXQ6goUTm-dh1rShVyhPEGF3d4_CYFxBlNEhyH_v9bbl1NAY6CDTkw1sFDuZ9MzRGm-o/s1600-h/IMG_0908.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbo6E3iVGkykK8XJNWhWRycwXkwUT59zFWiN7ZMEY_9aBeC-VZddAmITkXw1kO9YuznkZEgI2IXXQ6goUTm-dh1rShVyhPEGF3d4_CYFxBlNEhyH_v9bbl1NAY6CDTkw1sFDuZ9MzRGm-o/s320/IMG_0908.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245523283508512306" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6HvD5ZskfuKYZbC7hzAQBjndBwFIGz1jswzBxwcvRovqaPQ8L0db3G9fRHKWMNgddAiKRzwIooSFrmxEJNS0dprUH2pcbcSFwcVNTaFCo7bZUfb9EpTGn2KeC3kwV9IiEDTcOSsE5L1Q/s1600-h/IMG_2387.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6HvD5ZskfuKYZbC7hzAQBjndBwFIGz1jswzBxwcvRovqaPQ8L0db3G9fRHKWMNgddAiKRzwIooSFrmxEJNS0dprUH2pcbcSFwcVNTaFCo7bZUfb9EpTGn2KeC3kwV9IiEDTcOSsE5L1Q/s320/IMG_2387.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245288876599549890" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNVfCxqeVtz6Iq4szseSkUAD2qQmwfsRC79ZVSv0hkaMIqkw6fnBk_dcPBp8ZWgUEOmevkKoNWBPwVnBqmw85C_8Yt3iQtmvieQm0fNlwRr0FblH_Pe2ZHJMMae3dfEd32gGm5_Rvn_jZ/s1600-h/IMG_0029.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNVfCxqeVtz6Iq4szseSkUAD2qQmwfsRC79ZVSv0hkaMIqkw6fnBk_dcPBp8ZWgUEOmevkKoNWBPwVnBqmw85C_8Yt3iQtmvieQm0fNlwRr0FblH_Pe2ZHJMMae3dfEd32gGm5_Rvn_jZ/s320/IMG_0029.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245288784111598626" border="0" /></a>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-32860490982827899092008-09-05T13:06:00.001-07:002008-09-05T16:01:42.118-07:00Reed Obituary<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Matthew David Reagon ‘94 died on Saturday, June 7, 2008. He is survived by his parents, David and Janet Reagon, his beloved companion, Lynn Hinck, along with their daughter, Moira, and her children, Alexis and Grace. He is also survived by his former wife, Tracy Luks ‘94, and their children Bridget and Kathleen. Family members include his brother Michael, wife Su Su, and nephews David and Patrick; his brother William and partner Erica; and numerous aunts, uncles and cousins.<br /><br />Matt attended Reed from 1990 to 1994. He was an anthropology major, and wrote his Thesis with Prof. Gail Kelly on millennial movements among the Maori of New Zealand. While at Reed, he also hosted a radio show on KRRC, wrote a column for the Quest, and greatly enjoyed brandishing his rapier wit in seminars, the Paradox, and the bars of Portland. After graduating from Reed, Matt pursued his ambition to be a ‘scholarly gentleman of leisure’, doing graduate work in anthropology, law, ancient Greek and Hebrew, philosophy and Christian history, most recently at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, CA. At the time of his death Matt was writing a paper on Baruch Spinoza’s Hebrew Grammar, in which he argued that Spinoza’s unique approach to Hebrew grammar intentionally conveyed his equally unique approach to epistemology and metaphysics. Matt was also a consummate craftsman, combining his love of history, exotic locals, power tools, and honest hard work. He built remarkable creations for his family and installed hardwood floors with artistry. As the owner of Fundamental Floors Inc. in San Anselmo, CA, he became a self-conscious capitalist. While not his passion, entrepreneurship satisfied his need to provide for the children he adored, gave him the opportunity to pass on his skills to his Malaysian apprentice, and allowed him to impart historic and literary facts to unsuspecting clients. Further, he took comfort in the fact that Baruch Spinoza ground lenses to support himself. Matt's avocations included running (and running, and running), mountain-climbing, baking, photography with his vintage Rolleiflex medium format camera, occasional preaching, and voracious reading.<br /><br />Matt was absolutely crazy about each of his kids, and often claimed that creating his family of five girls was the great accomplishment of his life. They have inherited a legacy of literary passion, arcane vocabulary, and enormous generosity of spirit.<br /><br />Throughout his adulthood, Matt struggled with the diseases of bipolar disorder and addiction. While this struggle ultimately ended with his death from a drug overdose, he was clean from drugs for over seven years, and his own recovery and service to those struggling with addiction was central to his identity. Matt drew on his experience to share love, strength and hope with many others during his years of recovery.<br /><br /></span></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1293357260931252680.post-21383628885704345652008-09-04T07:36:00.000-07:002008-09-05T15:59:58.319-07:00Newspaper Obituary<p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Helvetica;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Helvetica;">Matthew David Reagon died suddenly at home on Saturday, June 7, 2008.<o:p></o:p> He was born on December 30, 1971 in Newton, MA to David and Janet<o:p></o:p> Reagon, who survive him at home in Wassaic, NY. He is survived by his<o:p></o:p> beloved companion, Lynn Hinck, along with their daughter, Moira, and<o:p></o:p> her children, Alexis and Grace. He is also survived by his former<o:p></o:p> wife, Tracy Luks, and their children Bridget and Kathleen. Family<o:p></o:p> members include his brother Michael, wife Su Su, and nephews David and<o:p></o:p> Patrick of Amherst, MA; his brother William and partner Erica Liang of<o:p></o:p> Palo Alto, CA; and numerous aunts, uncles and cousins.<o:p></o:p> Matt was a graduate of Reed College in Portland, OR, and had done<o:p></o:p> graduate work in anthropology, law, and theology, most recently at the<o:p></o:p> Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, CA. An accomplished<o:p></o:p> wood-worker, he also installed hardwood floors and had just started a<o:p></o:p> business, Fundamental Floors, Inc.<o:p></o:p> Matt's avocations included running, mountain-climbing, occasional<o:p></o:p> preaching, and omnivorous reading. Despite many health issues, his<o:p></o:p> life was centered on his family, and he was a friend to many.<o:p></o:p> A memorial service was held on Friday, June 13, 2008 at First<o:p></o:p>Presbyterian Church, 72 Kensington Rd, San Anselmo, CA.<o:p></o:p></span></p><!--EndFragment-->Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05563848475079952987noreply@blogger.com0