Requiem

     There was sadness in the air as I viewed the ALDS and NLDS, college and pro football this weekend. Such sadness is tangentially related to sports. 

     My cousin’s vibrant 48 year old son Jonathan died suddenly from a heart attack last week. Here was this young man, so full of life, now suddenly taken from us. He had such a grand future ahead of him, based upon a storied and successful past history.

     Jonathan was not a jock. Far from it. What he was a strong personality, vivacious and outgoing, imbued with tremendous intellect. He made tons of friends in his journey through life, with very few who could really dislike him, no matter how he might appear.

     Talented in many areas—the arts, literature, debate—Jonathan was passionate. He dominated a room, any conversation with vigor and intelligence. The first impression Jonathan left was as indelible as the last one. Even if you hadn’t seem him in ages, it was like old times and Jonathan was in the center of the action. He knew dive bars as well as he knew English literature. Life was there for him to capture and love, and he never seemed too disappointed, even in the darker times of his too short existence. 

     So smart, Jonathan matriculated at Brown University, where he rejected bias and played in a band. He made it to Oxford, where he learned and absorbed even more.

     New York-born, he lived in Rockland County, the Phoenix area and Southern California. Jonathan ventured to unique places and spent time in Montauk, Brooklyn and his final hometown, Philadelphia. Jonathan soaked up the atmosphere and culture everywhere he landed. 

     The definition of a Renaissance man is …”a person with many talents or areas of knowledge.” That was Jonathan Wellerstein—a blithe spirit in a troubled world, who spoke his mind yet lived an uncharted life style which gave him infinite pleasure.

     A child of the late 1970’s and into the 1980’s, he was precocious and determined. While in fifth grade, young Jonathan walked out in protest when he thought his teacher was being treated unfairly. He began his renowned artistry during this time. Jonathan was a liberal, and that may be a very kind description of how far left his political views were. 

     Jonathan was, at one time, a surfer, drawn to Malibu and its waves, even if he wasn’t that good. Jonathan loved the architecture of the quintessential row houses in South Philadelphia and he sought to make them habitable again. He was drawn to the Catskills, where he fell in love with a dilapidated estate called The Estelle and took it upon himself, with the help of a partner and his girlfriend, to renovate the site. 

     It was all about challenges. No matter how daunting, he would take the lead in making something happen. Whether it was his art work, his teaching and leading of children, his radical politics or fixing up homes, Jonathan never relented in his pursuit of his dreams and what he perceived as right and just.

     Athletics entered into Jonathan’s life, almost as a metaphor for his need to express himself. One day, he used his size and strength to beat up a bully. Not really interested in sports as a child, Jonathan surprised his parents when he joined Pop Warner football and went on to play high school football on defense. He was fast and he was fearless.

     More recently, Jonathan developed a strong affinity with his hometown NBA team, the Sixers. He watched with glee when they won and hurt when the team lost. He analyzed the games and he watched them on television when he did not make it to the Wells Fargo Center. Like everything else he did, Jonathan studied his team and dissected their moves. I saw it first hand when we went to see the Sixers host the Timberwolves in March. He was addicted to the Sixers and he was looking forward to the upcoming season which begins next week.

     Jonathan was laid to rest on Sunday atop a hill on the land of The Estelle. It was a cloudy, gray day, but the sun magically appeared and leaves tumbled from the sky at the most appropriate times during the ceremony.

     Jonathan left behind his beloved parents, two sisters, a nephew, a niece, a slew of relatives including my immediate family, his loving girlfriend, Bethany, and an extraordinary group of friends who came to the Catskills to honor his memory. Not surprisingly, so many tears were shed on the lawns of the property or in the barn which he had started to repair. His loss was great, but his effect was even greater.

     While I watched the baseball playoffs, another woeful Rutgers loss, Johns Hopkins vanquishing Franklin and Marshall (again), I did not see the Jets win or the Giants heartbreaking loss to Carolina as time expired. Sports were merely a diversion of my thoughts for the family so devastated by the loss of a son, brother, nephew and cousin.

     When the NBA season opens on October 16th as Philadelphia travels to Boston, I will be cheering for the Sixers to triumph. For Jonathan. With a tear in my eye.