amirlopatin

First Impressions

This is an excerpt from a journal I kept in 2001.

February 12, 2001. Monday. 12:40am.
Just got back from Cheryl and Moshe’s wedding…Amir Lopatin drove me home. Met first time New Years 1998. Like him. Super smart. Constantly thinking/analyzing. Seems really good-hearted. Helped carry my bags. Spent last year and-a-half in Utah as computer programmer. Interesting. Said he missed close Jewish community and was excited to be back. Is cute and wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. Wonder if too cerebral for me…Is definitely funny. Has amazing pale blue eyes. Appears to have little filter…Makes me feel like I know him well and can say anything to him.

Amir remembered

From: Mimi Kessous

“Action is eloquence”
-William Shakespeare

Amir was perpetually in motion. I realize this now as I reflect on each memory that has flooded my thoughts of him these last days. In each snapshot of my mind, he stands with those striking blue eyes, his hair slightly a muss, his jeans and t-shirt a bit disheveled just following an afternoon Ultimate game in Central Park or an evening bike-ride from work up the West Side Highway (even in winter, my favorite tree-hugging buddy commuted daily by bike). Did he ever sleep? He accomplished more before noon than most could in a week.

He was certainly happiest when he was moving. Once, at an arcade in midtown, Amir actually refused to leave after discovering a game that had been hidden in some far-off corner—the one where you try to follow the dance steps as they get progressively faster. Intent on mastering the game, he was enthralled. Now anyone who has ever met him for even a moment knows that Amir was a brilliant boy, a beautiful boy, a kind-hearted and even athletic boy. But a dancer…he was not. This minor fact, however, seemed incidental to Amir. I can still picture him standing before the machine, eyes aglow, jaws clenched, legs flailing about, pockets brimming with quarters. The challenge, the intensity, the speed of it all simply captivated him. “A-Lo,” as I aptly called him thereafter, was undoubtedly a man of action.

Even when sitting silently, although infrequent, one could see in Amir’s eyes that his mind still raced with ideas, analyses, theories. He worked actively and passionately to understand his surroundings, to learn from others’ experiences, to improve himself and the world around him.

Though we hadn’t been in touch the last few months, I will forever feel at a loss knowing that Amir is no longer around. I will always remember him with fondness and with pure adoration. He was the guy who chatted with the waiter. Who smelled of soap and Clinique’s “Happy.” Who loved making me chuckle. Who gave a compliment exactly when you needed it most. Who saw beauty in the basics. He was honest, playful, optimistic, profoundly affectionate, and warm-hearted. A truly unique and gentle soul.

Thinking back, I can remember, Amir would sometimes refer to certain people he deemed particularly accomplished as being “out of his league.” How ironic as, in reality, those around him felt so blessed to be part of his. His enthusiasm for life was contagious, his energy was boundless and his dreams had no limits. I am undeniably a better person for having known him.

“I don’t remember being anything but classy and sophisticated…”

This is an email Amir sent me soon after I moved back to Israel. I read it now and could feel Amir from it.

-Shelly (a former colleague)

——————————————-
October 19, 2001 12:27 PM

Hi shelly,
I hope things are good with you back in Israel. I miss you a lot here becuase there is nobody for me to talk with when I get bored. Also if I cannot work because my mind is off then there is nobody to tell about it becuase if I say it in english everyone will know I am not working, which sucks… Also I have done a lot of stupid embarassing things recently that you would have found funny but other people just think are stupid. Sorry if I acted like an idiot at your go-away party. I don’t remember being anything but classy and sophisticated but other people remember differently…
cheers,
-amir

A helpful bucket

this was sent to me by a friend. I thought of this when people were struggling for what to say….
—————–
The best way I know to picture how we receive help from others in grief, is to imagine you are holding a bucket. The size and color doesn’t matter. The bucket represents the feelings bottled up inside of you when you are in pain. If you have suffered a loss, hold the bucket and think through how you feel right now. If you are reading this to learn more about helping others, then imagine what would be in your bucket if a loved one had died very recently. What is in your bucket?

Fear. Will I survive? What will happen to me now? Who will care for me? Who will be with me when I need someone near? Most likely your bucket is almost full just from the fear. But there is also:

Pain. It is amazing how much physical pain there is in grief. Your chest hurts, and you can’t breathe. Sometimes the pain is so intense your body refuses to even move. There is enough pain to fill the bucket all by itself.

Sorrow. There is devastating sadness; overwhelming sorrow. A gaping hole has been bitten out of your heart and it bleeds inside your very soul. You cry buckets of tears and then cry some more.

Loneliness. There is no lonely like that felt when you are in a room full of people and totally alone at the same time. Loneliness alone can fill any bucket ever made.

I could go on, but that’s enough to get the idea across, and hopefully get you started thinking through your own list. What is in your bucket?

Now picture someone like me approaching you and your bucket. I also have a bucket. My bucket is full of explanations. I am armed and ready to explain why your loved one had to die, how they are now better off and how you should feel.

I am also well equipped with new ways to look at your loss. In politics they call that “spin doctoring,” but most human beings seem to know this skill by instinct.

I have almost a bucketful of comforting words and encouraging sayings. I can also quote vast amounts of scriptures. I seem to favor the ones that tell you not to grieve.

So we face each other armed with full buckets. The problem is, I don’t want to get into your bucket. Yours is scary. If I get in there, you might start crying and I may not be able to make you stop. You might ask me something I could not answer. There is too much intimacy in your bucket. I want to stand at a safe distance and pour what is in my bucket into yours. I want the things in my bucket to wash over your pain like some magic salve to take away your pain and dry your tears. I have this vision of my words being like cool water to a dry tongue. Soothing and curing as it flows.

But your bucket is full. There is no room for anything that is in my bucket. Your needs are calling so loudly there is no way you could hear anything I say. Your pain is far too intense to be cooled by any verbal salve, no matter how profound.

The only way I can help you is to get into your bucket, to try to feel your pain, to accept your feelings as they are and make every effort to understand. I cannot really know how you feel. I cannot actually understand your pain or how your mind is working under the stress, but I can stand with you through the journey. I can allow you to feel what you feel and learn to be comfortable doing so. That is called, “Getting into your bucket.”I was speaking on guilt and anger in grief to a conference of grieving parents. I asked the group what they felt guilty about. I will never forget one mother who said, “All the way to the hospital, my son begged me to turn back. He did not want the transplant. He was afraid. I would not turn back, and he died.”I asked her how many times someone had told her that her son would have died anyway. She said, “Hundreds.” When I asked her if that had helped her in any way she said, “No.”I asked her how many times she had been told that she was acting out of love and doing the right thing, she gave the same two responses. Many times and, no, it did not help.”I asked her how many times she had been told that God had taken her son for some reason, and she gave the same responses- “many” and “no help.”I asked how many times someone had told her that it had been four years since her son’s death and that it was time to “Put that behind you and get on with your life.”
This time she responded with great anger that she had heard that from many wellmeaning people, including family members, and that it not only did not help, it added to her pain and made her angry.

What I was really asking her is, “How many people have tried to pour their buckets into yours?
“I then said, “Would it help if I hugged you and said `that must really hurt’?”

She said, “That would help a great deal. That would really help.” Why would that help? Because I was offering to get into her bucket with her and to be in her pain, instead of trying salve over her pain with words and explanations.

If you are in pain, find someone who will get into your bucket. Most of the time these folks are found in grief groups or among friends who have been there. It is not normal procedure. It is hard to swallow our fears and climb into your bucket.

If you are reading this to find ways to help others in grief, then lay aside your explanations and your words of comfort. Forget all of the instructions and directions you think will help and learn to say, “That must really hurt.” I think that is the most healing combination of words in the English language. They really mean, “May I feel along with you as you walk through your pain?” “May I get into your bucket?”Healing happens in their buckets.

By Doug Manning
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Amir’s first stab at a personal college essay

The following is a portion of an essay Amir wrote in his junior year at Ramaz as a sample personal college essay. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost one of the pages.

—

Well this is my personal college essay, and it kind of pisses me off. Whenever people bring up all this college crap, it tends to piss me off. College shmawledge, it’s always future this and future that. I’m a friggin junior, and I’m seventeen, and I just heard Don Henley sing something about being sixteen forever and it really didn’t mean a thing to me to tell the truth. I’m a friggin junior and not unlike my good forefather Abraham, some god has been testing me and luckily I got a 1450 which means I passed. Not so fast, they tell me, a 1450 is not a success complete. Many more high numbers must be collected before the golden gates of Heaven (or is that Harvard) will open up.
But all that is along way off, at least a year, and right now I’m stuck in pre-final hell land and just about the worst thing I can do is think ahead to that judgment day early in May when my entire high school worth is assessed. That is a sick, scary thought. Either I’m missing something or somewhere along the line we lost something and now everything has gone crazy and corrupt. Is this the plan: Study in high school, so you can go to a good college, so you can go to a good university, so you can get some dumb job, so you can earn money, so you can support a wife, so you can have kids so that they can go to school . . . .
Am I missing something there? Is that what my dad is talking about when he says to me, Amir, you gotta have a plan? Well, I don’t have a plan, and though that scares me sometimes, mostly it just makes me feel superior . . . unencumbered . . . more fee than the rest of the bastards running as fast as they can down the dark misty road of success and responsibility and consistency. It is one hell of a marathon, and I am far too lazy to compete.
The irony is that so few know what they are running for. So few can even see this road beneath their legs. I know it is there because someone told me. She said, Nature and life seem to be very familiar. Just stay on the road and everything will be fine. (I read that in my camp brochure). I say, Stay on the road, and you won’t see a damn thing. There are a lot of nifty trees that smell like root beer, pretty vistas, and cool looking animals that all lie just off the path. Hell, you may get a few scratches but that is the risk. I mean, why else did we get on this road in the first place for? You see, that is what bothers me the most, most destinations are not destinations at all, rather, just the lack of destinations. It is going on so you can go on. Stop before you reach the end, because once you get there, they will all be dead, or you will be dead. I do not know, because I have not been there yet.
I did see the end once, though. You see, this path of mine has all twists and turns of various dimensions and sometimes . . . the end comes very close to where you are standing, and if you look hard enough, you will be able to see it. Rather, you won’t see it. You won’t see it because it is not there. Let me explain how I saw the end that is not there:
Last year before the Passover holiday, I went to visit the Jewish homeland with the Dorot project in Manhattan. I brought

[missing page]

immensely, for I do not really know what society is. I think, though, that it has something to do with man’s futile search for purpose. Something to keep us running around this narrow, circular track so quickly and so frantically that we are blind to the nothing that we are falling into.

NYCPUL Remembers Amir from Doug

I am shocked and saddened to learn of Amir’s passing. He was an all around great guy who will truly be missed. The NYCPUL league he created brought summer league ultimate to Manhattan for the first time in years. It was so much fun to play in the league and it wouldn’t have happened without Amir’s vision, dedication and hard work. Amir worked long and hard to create NYCPUL and it would be a shame if this league ended.

I was under the impression that when Amir left town, someone else had taken over the running of NYCPUL and that there would be a league this summer. Whether this is the case or not, I think the best way to honor Amir is to keep NYCPUL going and to rename the league in his honor.

Doug

Email Correspondence with Rebecca Deutsch

While at Brown (1995-99), Amir corresponded via email with his close friend Rebecca Deutsch. The following is a sampling of that correspondence…

Wednesday, October 18, 1995

I am the only person in my nine o’clock class who is awake. I think I participate in class more than anybody else in Brown. I bet other people think I am very annoying.

—-

Do you think it is good to be anti-social when the only reason you being unsocial is so people say wow, he’s so Holden Caulfieldish and aloof and cool and then you become very popular.

—-

Quote of the week:
“These paradigms of vanilla normality make me puke.” –Jon Wolfson

_____________________________________________

Saturday, October 14, 1995

College is pretty cool. Academically it’s great. They really keep one busy here and I am learning a lot. I had figured it would be anti-intellectual compared to yeshiva, what with only four classes and all, but I think I am even working harder here than I did there.

I am taking:

-2nd semester calc
-political philosophy
-intro to object orientd programming (my favorite)
-twentieth century jewish fiction

Also, extra-curricularly there are always a lot of things to do that I am interested in. I am a member of the film society and the fantasy gaming society…

—-

The whole concept of friendship has got me very confused. Do you think a friend should be a person who has certain personality traits that you find appealing (i.e. s/he is into books you like, or movies you like, or plays the same sports as you), or do you just like anybody who is willing to reciprocate that affection? Most people seem to the latter. I am not sure if it is respectable or pathetic. Friendship is no more than a vestige of a pack instinct. That is my opinion on it.

_____________________________________________

Monday, July 15, 1996

Rebecca,

I don’t think I ever told you what I am doing this summer. I have two-and-a-half jobs, all involving computers. My main job is programming for the psychology department here. I am programming experiments in human timing. In my current project a subject is presented with 100 boxes and is allowed to click on any which one. If the box is primed, the subject is rewarded by a sound clip from a movie or TV show. If it is not primed, then the subject is subjected to a very loud, harsh sound. The boxes are primed randomly. The idea is to check for patterns in ways in which the subjects search. My other job is researching how to program Windows sockets. Windows sockets (i.e. winsock) is a programming interface by way of which programmers can write bits and bytes on the internet. My half job, which I just started today and which I am not getting paid for, is that I am programming an interface for a project a post-doc is working on in the Brown CS department. I am doing this because I get a very special account and it is a good learning environment.

Tomorrow, I am going for an interview for a job teaching Hebrew school. I am a little nervous because I shaved my head into a crew cut and I think I might make a bad impression.

_____________________________________________

Tuesday, July 16, 1996

Rebecca,

Why didn’t you go away for the summer? You can support yourself on summer job money…. It really feels good to be self-sufficient. It is pretty easy, too. Life really doesn’t take that much, (so you shouldn’t feel sorry for bums, you should just dismiss them as lazy (just kidding (I like nesting parentheses (it is a very computerish thing to do)))). Also, when you are away from your parents for a long time they are much nicer to you.

I just spoke to Mikey on the phone…Really, he is a tremendously decent man.

_____________________________________________

Wednesday, August 07, 1996

Hi,

It kills me that girls are judged so much more leniently on personality matters. In order for a girl’s personality to be liked all she has to do is smile a lot and sit around and listen. With guys, if you are not saying something witty every ten seconds people dismiss you right out as a boring schleb. I want to be a woman.

_____________________________________________

Friday, September 06, 1996

Hello Becks,

How’s your junior year going? You know, being a junior in college is pretty damn near adult, isn’t it?

Anyway, sorry I haven’t written, I have been very preoccupied with a lot of stuff. I have over-committed myself to too many things: I am working on the Virtual Reality project with the CS department, programming experiments for the psychology department, teaching Hebrew school, librarian for Hillel, pledging a fraternity and 3 work-intensive classes….

Last week, I went camping in the White Mountains and really fell in love with nature. The whole experience made me feel really very primal. It was very invigorating. I climbed a 4,000 ft mountain and now I really feel there is nothing I can’t do. There was a personality conflict with the rest of my group, though, and none of them liked me because they are all a bunch of wusses who don’t like to challenge themselves. What kind of classes are you taking? Are you taking CS?

—-

Did you know that in Hebrew, which is god’s language, there is no word for love? Ahava, which we use interchangeably for love and like, really doesn’t mean either of those, it means loyalty.

_____________________________________________

Wednesday, September 18, 1996

It is great that you are reading Heart Of Darkness, but it is kind of sad that you are taking that kind of class when you can be really applying your mind to some greater discipline like math, physics, or C.S.

Lately, things are going very well for me. My fraternity is taking very good care of me and making sure that I am not getting bored socially. I am really pretty much enjoying it so far. It is very engrossing. I don’t know any better word for that. As pledges they keep us busy constantly and it is just a lot of fun. What they are tying to do mostly is indoctrinate us in the tradition. I kind of dig all the tradition… I have been getting about five hours of sleep a night and I feel great. The fraternity keeps me up late every night and then I get up at 7:30 for minyan, which we have just started here this year.

_____________________________________________

Thursday, September 19, 1996

It is weird. I have a dual social life here in Brown. Half of it is Hillel, which I love, hanging out and meeting pleasant people… Then there is my fraternity life, which truthfully lives up to all stereotypes… It is actually truly pathetic. But in some ways it provides a strange counterbalance that I think I need. Hell, I don’t need it, who am I kidding. I am stuck in Gehenna, and that is the truth. I could pick up and leave but that is not as simple as it seems. I would be alienating a lot of people, and truthfully there are a lot of people that I do like. Nobody I couldn’t live without, though. But then on top of that there is the huge hassle of moving and finding a place to live…

_____________________________________________

Friday, October 25, 1996

I really like having a roommate. I would be very lonely without a roommate. I think I am going to get married this summer so I don’t have to be without a roommate. I need that type of spiritual crutch so I don’t get lonely.

—-

In computer science class I am building a simulated computer. It is really cool. I am also designing this graphical robot that can shoot missiles out of his mouth and lasers from his eyes… I am feeling unimaginative. So next semester I signed up for creative writing. I was inspired because there were two girls from Ramaz here last weekend and they were only freshmen when we were seniors, but they knew who I was because they remembered my poems. That made me feel really great…

_____________________________________________

Monday, November 11, 1996

…Anyway, I got to go home this weekend to Englewood and that seems to have done me a turn for the better. I got to see my grandma before she left to Israel and, although we can hardly speak a word to each other, it seemed to make her very happy just to sit next to me. It was nice to make her happy like that and it made me feel groovy inside. Also, I got to speak to my sister, who I recognize as the complete angel that she is, and she had a lot of good advice for me. Maybe you should speak to her, too. She is great at giving advice…

_____________________________________________

Tuesday, January 21, 1997

Dear Becks,

I just got back to school yesterday and I moved into the Hebrew house here at Brown. So far it seems like a vast improvement over the frat. The house is much nicer. It is actually like a real house. We have a living room and kitchen and everything laid out for Mr. and Mrs. Joe family. My room even has its own bathroom and carpet. My new roommate is a computer science god who took three years off brown to work for apogee and write Duke Nukem. If you don’t know what that is, let me tell you that is something to be proud about…

I went on a breaks trip last week and that was great. What we did was go out into New York City for a week and volunteer in soup kitchens for lunch and at night we usually spoke to people who were professionally involved with hunger and homelessness in NYC…

_____________________________________________

Monday, March 17, 1997

Hi Becks,

Anyway, what I was saying in my last letter was that I am going camping for a while next week in Virginia. I am really excited. I have only been camping once before and I have never been to the South at all. I have been to Florida once but that doesn’t really count. I like long car rides with friends. That is the best. I like to make everybody play these games that me and Jon used to play. One game is called memory game and it just goes that one person says a memory and the other person says one that it reminds them of. And so on. The other game is called trivial pursuit and it is just Trivial Pursuit without the cards, dice and board. The only part that is left is the questions and since you don’t have cards you have to think them up yourself. That is the fun part. I just hope it is not too cold when we go camping.

_____________________________________________

Tuesday, April 15, 1997

How are you doing? As for me, everything is going very well. I had a great spring break camping and when spring comes and Ben and Jerry’s gives away free cones of ice cream, it is hard not to be chipper.

_____________________________________________

Thursday, October 09, 1997

Hi Rebecca?

How’s life? I haven’t heard from you in a little while and I was wondering. I actually called you a couple of times this summer when I was in NJ but I was never able to get through. As for me, life is fine. I walk a tortuous path within the twilight of some large and looming madness that howls continuously from along the perimeter of my mind. Of the few people I have gotten to know in the slow and sordid course of my social history, I believe that only you could ever really understand the context of my self-loathing and the hubris it engenders. That is why I write you this letter. I think me and you, we share the same insanity. I still think of you every now and then and miss you. I miss certain aspects of myself as they pertained to you. It is funny, people leave your life and new people come in, but there are no substitutes.

–Amir

Amir

From: Tamar Prager
Amir was so special, so unique and so beautiful. Every time I spoke with him, I felt alive and excited. He was able to bring out a gentle spirit in me while unleashing an energy and enthusiasm. Speaking with Amir was speaking with someone whose curiosity was endless. He pushed you to think harder, to contemplate deeper and to be made more aware. I loved that about him.
We spoke about music, ourselves, our interests, literature, just being and experiencing. He always had me laughing…
There will never be an adequate goodbye for Amir. He was a person unlike any other. His amazing, beautiful ways will remain with me forever.

Baruch Dayan Emet

Although I did not have the pleasure of knowing this amazing, brilliant, athletic and caring man – my thoughts are with Amir’s family and friends. One can only imagine the life he lived by the photos displaying a life lived to the fullest and the thoughts describing a friend one would be lucky to have.

NYCPUL Remembers Amir from Keith

Amir was the kindest person one could know.

He deserves to be honored.

We could make tee-shirts and a custom disc in his memory. They could be the basis for a special tournament or a league.

I’m in.

Keith

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