Shane

Two weeks have crawled past since social media was blown up with the horrifying news, that our community had suffered the loss of a brilliantly shining star. Though matters took a couple of days to clarify, we found out that our brother, our son, our friend, Shane, had taken his own life.

Inconceivably devastating, we mourn the passing of an individual whose sole mission in life, was seemingly to blaze a trail of camaraderie and spirit. Having observed Shane from a distance for the first two years of his middle school career, I got an up-close and personal look during his eighth grade year. You can get a pretty good idea of what someone is like, if you spend four periods of class time a day (200 minutes), for an entire school year with that person.

By way of introduction, I can remember seeing Shane sitting on the Group W bench outside of Mrs. Wade’s classroom, as a sixth grader. He was not the only individual that used to get assigned this special seat, so there is little to be drawn from his presence there, but let’s just say that by the time he hit eighth grade, there was no longer any need for Group W bench consideration.

Spending his days amidst sixth, seventh and a total of eight, eighth graders, in the multi-graded program that Paul and I operated, Shane asserted himself as a class leader. Not only did his conduct reflect his maturity, he distinguished himself in the classroom.

He did this from day one onward, because the center of that year’s curriculum was the performance of Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night,” and it was to be presented before Christmas. The character Shane portrayed was Sir Toby Belch, described by Wikipedia as “one of Shakespeare’s finest characters…a force for vitality, noise and good cheer, as his name suggests.”

We started the first week in September, working during 7th period elective, and were ready for action, ready for danger, by the appointed time. Asserting himself in his role, the more he worked to portray a rambunctious, drunk partier in play practice, the more Shane affixed himself as an academic force.

The culture of our middle school was such, that the play was taken seriously on all fronts, from the actors to those who created the backdrops, to the lighting, to the musical score, to the back-stage direction, et al. 

Middle school participants knew that the elementary classes, from 2nd or 3rd grade onward, would be swarming into our classroom-turned-theater-in-the-round, to view their older siblings in the performance. They knew that there would be three evening performance for families and community, and so there was a fierce desire to get it right.

Students worked together better at this kind of classroom endeavor, than almost any other, simply because they were given poetic license to choreograph their own performances. Should one person struggle, the entire cast would offer support; they knew they were only as good as their weakest performer.

Working opposite Ella, who performed as Andrew Aguecheek, Shane embraced his role, channeling his personality through the character of Sir Toby. He was nothing short of dazzling, one of a cast of inspired students who gave their audiences much to chortle about.

When we went to Yosemite that year, sixth, seventh and eighth graders, Shane’s dad accompanied us, one of a legion of adult volunteers. We required a ratio of one adult to five students, to help assure that no parent was overwhelmed by serving as a group leader. Again, Paul and I relied on Shane to hold his own when it came to leadership, in a land far away. He did not disappoint.

Over the last three years, I have bumped into Shane at several public events, most memorably at Reggae on the River, a couple of years ago, when Stephen Marley performed. It was after 3 in the morning, we were up the hillside behind the beer garden, and we were reflecting on the just-completed set by Stephen.

Feeling emotionally drained, I separated myself from my immediate circle, intending to begin the fifteen-minute walk down Rasta Road to our campsite. As I did so, I heard a voice say simply, “Mark,” from a dozen feet away, and looked over to see Shane standing there. I hit stage right, sauntered up to him, and received a bear hug for my effort. 

When you feel you know someone well, there is sometimes no need for a lot of words. We stood there for a minute, soaking in the good feelings that the music had provided, and then parted ways, the connection reestablished, the glow strong, warm and fuzzy.

I am not a judgmental person, and if I were, I would suspend judgment now. I saw posts that expressed angst at Shane’s final decision, even anger at a decision that they perceived as wrong. I can’t go there, and I wouldn’t if I could.

We must recognize that instead of blinking out, the star that is Shane is still very much alive, and will be as long as there are those who remember and cherish his memory. I do not have the words to make the pain go away, so I am choosing words instead, that at least help me cope.

When you feel you know someone well, there is sometimes no need for a lot of words.