Marissa and the echoes

Two days on, the reality that our friend Marissa Irwin has passed away is only starting to sink in. I've also been thinking about another friend from Beloit, who left a long time ago. Way back in 1987, I lost another Beloit friend to cancer. Andy Boggs, son of a Beloit art professor, was quite a character. He was an amalgam of Jeff Spicoli and Johan Sebastian Bach. He absolutely loved to party and was a fixture in the various watering holes around campus. Somehow, though, he was an amazingly prolific musician who wrote and recorded dozens of songs and compositions, including many that were daring and even startling in their musical complexity. Following our junior year, Andy began to have difficulties and went in for some tests. It turned out that he had an inoperable brain tumor.

For the next three years, Andy waged a very public battle to fight the cancer that was ravaging his body. He became known throughout Wisconsin for his courage in facing the disease and, because of his talents and the friendships he developed, he was able to focus a lot of attention on cancer among youth. Andy threw out the first pitch at a Milwaukee Brewers game and, for a time at least, seemed to rally, even as he endured the ravages of cancer and the various regimens of chemotherapy and other treatments. Eventually, though, the cancer gained the upper hand and, in the warm spring of 1987, Andy left, only 23 years old.

Marissa fought much longer than Andy; her cancer developed more slowly, relentlessly and her struggle was much more private than Andy's was. She had the comfort of a wonderful husband and the support of an outstanding family. She also refused to feel sorry for herself, spending a number of years in India, assisting various organizations that were involved in alleviating poverty. She did not wallow in her misfortune. She understood that the time she would have was limited; she made the most of it.

I remember writing a poem about Andy shortly after he died; I happened to find it when I went through some old papers recently. The poem was alternately sad, angry, resigned and defiant, the work of a much younger man. But one of the thoughts I penned those many years ago remains - you can reach the essence of who you are, in the time you have. It's a challenge all of us face, but I am certain that both Marissa and Andy were at least close to that goal. And there's hope in that.