Dave

Usually this blog details the various trips and vacations that Marianella and I experience, but today I want to tell you about our dear friend David Siemers who passed away on December 26th at the age of 42.

If you spent any time in the southeastern suburbs of Minneapolis/St. Paul  over the last fifteen years, you very well may have crossed paths with Dave.  He was a pretty unassuming guy in his day to day life, working as a nurse practitioner at a Minute Clinic within a CVS Pharmacy ten minutes from his home.  He loved his Minnesota sports teams, Long Island Iced Teas, The Gear Daddies, small bets at the sports book in Las Vegas, stand-up comedians, dogs, the 4th of July, food of all varieties (excepting fruits and vegetables), and trips to the North Shore.  He played the part of a Gen-X, Minnesota guy pretty well and often anonymously.

But for those of us who got to know Dave well, he was a superhero of sorts to us.  He was the guy who returned home to quickly run in the house on a errand, but neglected to put the car in park first, nearly running himself over and sending the car through the back of the garage simultaneously.  He was the friend that steadfastly maintained he was returning an unworn suit to a department store, even after the sales clerk found a dime in a pocket; who as goalie for his co-ed rec league soccer team, defended a shot on goal with his face that struck so hard it popped both of the lenses out of his glasses.  And my favorite Dave story of all, when he was at a bank while it was being held up-when the thief told everyone to freeze, Dave darted out the front door, and then lingered in the parking lot advising other patrons to not go inside, sticking around for fear that he would be connected as an accomplice in the robbery.

This is just scratching the surface of Dave's vast canon of stories that never cease to humor us.  You may have noticed from the few I shared, many were incidents where he could have quietly let these stories fade without sharing with anyone, but Dave was not one to avoid self-deprecation.
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The photo above was taken this past June following a dinner of gourmet burgers in St. Paul.  My wide smile could be attributed to the warmth of friendship, but it was also heavily influenced by the juvenile one-liner delivered by Dave just before the picture was taken.  Through June and July we saw Dave and Anna a lot and at no time whatsoever did any of us have a clue what was occurring inside Dave's body, least of all him.  This extended through August and into September, when Dave and Anna spent ten days in Hawaii to celebrate his 42nd birthday.

A week after returning from their vacation, Dave came home one night from work feeling and looking quite ill.  Sheer stubbornness drove him to work the next day, despite Anna's urging to get himself to a clinic.  He finally succumbed to his body that morning and drove himself to a clinic where scary times ensued-he had a gastrointestinal bleed which necessitated nine units of blood to be pumped into his body.  But the bleeding stopped and with the Mayo Clinic an hour and a half from home, he was confident the cause and cure would be found.

Dave didn't provide all those details when we texted in late October; in fact, it was item #4 that was discussed, after we sifted through fantasy football talk, the doctor in New York who had Ebola symptoms, and plans for staying at their house when we flew back in December.  When he got around to telling me about the bleed, it was delivered seriously but also with humor and confidence that recovery would be forthcoming and we'd go about our normal course of activity when we pulled into their driveway for Christmas break.
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Dave and I attended Winona State at roughly the same time (he was one year behind me), but we were evidently two inebriated ships stumbling past one another at house parties and bars.  We shared mutual friends, but it wasn't until after we both moved away from Minnesota and returned with graduate degrees that our paths finally crossed.

It was the Lake City boys, Erik and Paul, who brought us together.  Dave was roommates with Paul in college while Erik and I worked at the student union together and earned Social Work degrees from WSU.  Besides those university ties, we all shared an affinity for our Minnesota sports teams and in our second annual outing to a Gophers football game, Dave joined the union.  In later years, we would term ourselves the Four Horsemen, but during that initial time together, Dave made himself noticed by hiding my Goldy Gopher bobblehead doll when I stepped away to go to the bathroom.  I recall wondering, who is this character, treading on hallowed memorabilia ground?
The Four Horsemen:

Well this character quickly became a fast friend, fulfilling the college buddy role as we stepped into our thirties.  Mixing our close proximity to each other in the greater Twin Cities area, my bachelorhood, and Anna's patience, Dave was always a willing partner to grab a beer, catch a game, or a bite to eat.  Our excursions as the Four Horsemen extended to roadtrips for Winona State basketball games and March Madness opening weekend games in Rochester, where Dave and I would travel the hour and a half south on Highway 52.  I despise driving that road-I've spent countless hours on that flat, straight, uninteresting stretch of road connecting the Twin Cities to Rochester.  Dave would make that ribbon of asphalt almost seem pleasant, filling the car with constant conversation, mixing the humorous with the outrageous, doling out strong opinions while occasionally producing tears of laughter.  Those conversations would carry into whatever venue we were joining Erik and Paul, where insults, eye rolls, and exasperation would ensue, with Dave welcoming the role of contrarian in our parries.
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Although Dave expressed confidence, the news was certainly disconcerting and subsequent phone calls with Dave and Anna did not diminish our concern-neither Marianella nor I are medical professionals, but we knew enough that spontaneous internal bleeding wasn't good.

That unsettling fear was fully realized when we received a text from Anna over Halloween weekend indicating that the trip to Mayo Clinic resulted in a diagnosis of cancer.  He had a rare neuroendocrine tumor that began in his blood and spread to his liver and intestines.  His liver was overwhelmed with large masses created by this tumor and an ulcer in his intestines had caused the prior bleeding.

The text message providing this basic information arrived at about 4 a.m. in Bangladesh through Marianella's phone and while she cried, my initial thought was that this was a practical joke Dave was taking too far; sure, I had pulled a few upon him over the years that deserved retribution, but nothing to this level.  How could he pull such a jackass move?

The phone call which occurred a few minutes afterward with Anna disabused me of any notion of a practical joke, although my mind tried clinging to that possibility over the next couple months.
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The 2006 Insight Bowl, which was played on December 29th that year is one of the more infamous dates in Minnesota Gopher football history (among too many infamous dates).  That night, the Gophers jumped out to a 38-7 lead on Texas Tech, only to relinquish their massive lead and lose the game in overtime.  It remains a record for biggest comeback in NCAA bowl game history, spurring the Gophers athletic director to fire their head coach and replace him with the immortal (for all the wrong reasons) Tim Brewster, who set back the Gophers football program for years.

Yes, a miserable night for Gopher fans, but I have always had fond memories of that night, as  Marianella and I traveled to Dave and Anna's home for the first time they would meet my then-girlfriend.  They were a bit dubious about my "girlfriend"; there had been a couple prior times we were supposed to get together as a foursome, but due to reasons long forgotten, I would show up by myself and apologize for Marianella's absence.  On the second occasion, Dave asked if my girlfriend was real or not.
Expressing our love of the Gophers through Snuggies:

On that night I proved Marianella's existence as we settled in for the debacle on the television screen that was to play out.  Or I should say, Dave and I settled in-Anna and Marianella spent the next four hours chattering away in their native tongue of Spanish and two small town boys from southern Minnesota marveled at their wonderful fortune in finding their "Latina Princesses" who immediately forged a close bond.

From that night onward, we had found our boon companions.  Concerts, Twins opener, movies, dinners, sleepovers, art crawls, game nights, a roller derby match, nights around the fire pit, hot tubbing, 4th of July fireworks, breakfasts, Tim Brewster's debut as Gopher head coach. . .we did all these things together with gusto and laughter and an ever-evolving friendship.  Once Marianella and I became engaged, it didn't take long for her to choose Anna as our Maid of Honor.  When we faced the emotional devastation of Marianella's parents not being able to join us for the wedding due to their visa requests being denied, Anna offered her mettle, providing support to Marianella that was beyond what I could offer myself.  The night before we wed, as we went our separate ways, Anna took Marianella through the tears of the disappointment of her parents not being present and provided the strength to flourish on our wedding day.
A night of fine dining shortly after our wedding:

True friendship cannot be measured with an accountant's ledger for which Marianella and I are quite fortunate because our debt to Anna and Dave would be too massive to repay.  Shortly following our wedding, Marianella and I moved to Peru which initially was believed to be a little adventure for two years before we returned to our established life in St. Paul.  Then the housing market collapsed, a counseling position opened up in Lima, and our plans became scrambled.
A 4th of July, with their beloved dog Wally:

Dave the superhero came to the rescue.  Pick-up and drop-offs from the Minneapolis airport?  Done, despite the often early morning commitment.  Storage at their home?  No problem, he insisted there was plenty of room in their garage.  Using their home as my point of operation when I visited the Twin Cities and had to deal with the various business back in Minnesota?  This imposition would be met with my favorite soda (Dr. Pepper) in the fridge and the security code to their house.  Never, and I mean never, did Marianella or I ever feel like we were placing a burden upon Anna and Dave, even though we couldn't help but do so with our whirlwind trips.  In fact, they hatched a plan where we would quit our jobs, move back to Minnesota and live in their ground floor bedroom indefinitely.  We're pretty sure they were only half-joking when hatching out this plan.
Celebrating Marianella's birthday at Dave & Anna's:

As the years advanced, we spent less time seeking out the options of the Twin Cities cultural scene and more time in their home.  When not sleeping, we would likely be located in one of two places:  the kitchen/dining area nook or downstairs in the TV area.  While our nights out and about were always fun, it's the time in these two areas that resonate in my memory, particularly upstairs.  We would gather there, whether we were fresh from the plane or at the end of the working day, and we would discuss topics far and wide, with Dave again relishing the role of the contrarian, often finding himself defending a point of view against three voices.  Even when I agreed with Dave, I would take the opposing view for entertainment's sake.  And while serious topics were brought, discussed, and dissected frequently, it was also the place where stupidity and immaturity were acceptable and expected.  When you're in your 40's, it is wonderful to have a friend who welcomes and encourages you to regress to your eighth grade mentality.
During their visit to Peru:

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Mid-November brought the initial visit to the Mayo oncologist.  The diagnosis of cancer was confirmed, it was determined to be at Stage 4 and the verdict was that it was inoperable, but the option of chemotherapy was offered as an attempt to subdue its rapid growth. Dave and Anna chose to take this route, electing to fight against the cancer.  Marianella and I searched through Google for rays of light, trying to ignore the negatives, finding the occasional success story where people in similar circumstances lived for another year, two, five.  We tried to let hope abound.

The chemotherapy was a freight train, sapping Dave's strength and weakening his immune system, causing an infection to arise which brought a return trip to Mayo Clinic over Thanksgiving weekend.  It was incredibly draining, but hope remained that the chemo would abate the cancer in their fight.
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Superman had x-ray vision, Spiderman can climb walls, and Dave could quote movies.  Not just the easy quotes that everyone has heard ad nauseam through the years, but little known quotes from a vast array of movies.  It was uncanny and I was continuously amazed by this ability of his.  It became a bit of a parlor trick for us-I would toss out the name of a movie, Dave would provide a quote from the movie and I would state that if I ever got my own radio show, there would be a weekly call-in segment involving Dave quoting movies.  This would be met with Anna exclaiming to please stop, that I was going to give Dave a big head.

When we were home two summers ago, there was a midnight movie showing of Shawshank Redemption which we attended along with my niece Heidi.  An eminently quotable movie, it was one of our typical outings-comfortable yet a bit offbeat, probably marketed to people 15-20 years younger than us, preceded by dinner beforehand, with lively conversation, Dave tossing out quotes from the movie, and marked by a moment where we would tease Dave later (he was the only one of us that fell asleep for a spell of the movie).

One of the quotes from the movie has been playing and replaying in my head since we found out that Dave's cancer was terminal.  It occurs towards the end of the movie, after Andy has bested the evil warden and escaped from jail, retreating towards Mexico.  Red remains in prison and while pleased that Andy is a free man, also laments his absence.  He states, "I guess I just miss my friend."

It's been a little over two weeks since Dave passed away and I still can't comprehend he's gone, but I guess I just miss my friend.  When I do the math, he was a part of my life for roughly ten years and in Marianella's just shy of eight years.  Memories flood us, too numerous to share, some too inside to make sense.
Before the Shawshank Redemption:

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We arrived in Minneapolis on Friday, December 12, got our rental car and pointed ourselves south.  After showering and changing at the hotel, we called the house, unsure if Dave was up for visitors that night or if we would need to wait til the next day.  Anna answered and assured us that we could visit, gently scolding us for getting a hotel room instead of staying at their house.

When we arrived, Dave was awake and we entered the bedroom.  Earlier that week, the oncologist informed them that the chemotherapy had not had its intended effect, so it was decided not to move forward with any more treatment.  Dave would be given morphine and other pain meds and they were told it would be a matter of weeks, perhaps a couple months before he passed away.  Bed-bound, Dave was lucid and straightforward-no mincing of words, no small talk, at least not at first.  We said the things we needed to say to each other that night.

The next day provided a brief respite from the bleak gray landscape that accompanied our visit back to Minnesota most of this December.  We headed over to Dave and Anna's with a strange energy-we knew our friend was dying but he and Anna had put us at such peace the night before and we stepped into his bedroom almost buoyant.  NFL Films was mute on the TV and we began playing The Gear Daddies at a low volume.  Dave laid in bed while Anna sat on one side of the bed, with Marianella and I on the other side.  We looked at pictures and told stories and laughed and teased.  Dave was tired and he turned at one point to sleep, but he told us not to leave and that we should keep on talking, which we did.  He woke up after a bit and I was surprised to hear that he had followed some of the conversation while we thought he was sleeping.  Marianella and I stayed a bit longer before it was time to say goodbye and head further south to my Mom's.

We visited Dave and Anna several more times over the next couple weeks, but I'm holding onto Saturday, December 13th and willing it to be my lasting memory of Dave.  It was our last beautiful day together, among so many over the last decade.  It would be easy to fall into cliches and platitudes and sappiness here, and perhaps that is what I'm doing right now, but I need to let you know-if you have your own superhero as a friend, appreciate them.  Appreciate the humor, the generosity, the unconditionality of that friend.  Treasure them.  Consider yourself incredibly fortunate to have such a friend.  Tell them.