Eulogizing Alex

The year was 1986 and we were starting high school. There were so many new faces and a few stood out. Alex was one of those guys...as soon as you met, you felt you had known him for years.

When we first met, Alex was an imp. He was the kid with the biggest, goofiest smile. He had the quickest wit I'd ever known.


Alex kept your attention because you never knew what was coming next, but you knew it would be good. But he was more than just the funny guy. Alex had depth. He worked as an editor and cartoonist for our school paper (later, he'd play similar roles at Belmont University), he played several instruments and led the marching band.

Several years after we left high school, Alex laughed as he told me - in his earnest desire to understand the size of Nashville, he asked a professor at Belmont about population. She snidely remarked, "well, it's no Atlanta." He never did get her answer... (this type of remark is one we had both become accustomed to receiving - if you joke around, people think you are always joking).

But Alex, like everyone, had a serious side. He loved playing the violin... and, as with everything else he did, he was amazing.



His memorial service was bittersweet. His family originally planned for 50 people, so there were three rows for guests. By the time the service began, the number of rows had more than doubled and the chairs lining the walls were all full. Alex's college Violin professor came and played his favorite Bach concertos. His childhood pastor spoke lovingly of him as the "sprite" we all imagined the 7-year old Alex would have been...and, his adult pastor, while stating Alex had a very strong faith (though he had been disappointed by the church and had investigated other beliefs), said with a laugh in her voice - he could even be irreverent.



That's the Alex I will remember - the one that could get you to relax and just experience the joy of life.