Don's blog

Recollections from the rue Larry, Moe and Curly

2012-01-31T09:14:00.000-08:00

Don Lacoss is gone? One year ago today and I’m just finding out? I had a feeling that something was wrong in the moral fabric of the universe. I’m just terribly sad to find that we’ve lost Don.

My thoughts turned to Don in the past few days and I wanted to check his email address when I saw the obituary and the lovely recollections on the blog here.

It was last week that Jo and I were walking in Paris in the rue Larrey, just off of the Place Monge, and we looked up at the apartment where we had once lived, where Don and Carolyn had once lived. (It was Don, I think, who told me that he was redubbing it the rue Larry, Moe and Curly.) I didn’t have much trouble remembering the yellow wallpaper, the tiny bathtub, the balcony, and picturing Don in the impossibly curved bed with the bookshelf full of abstract sculptures.

I can’t think of Ann Arbor without thinking of Don. He was a fellow traveler in French history but so much more than that. He lit the place up with his personality and his wit. I can still see him in the corner of our living room or deep in a chair on our back porch, sitting on the floor caressing (our dog) Maddy, or curiously looking over (our newborn) Margot. He knew everything I listened to, everything I’d read, everything that was going on, and had a wisecrack or an insight about all of it. He made the whole thing – graduate school, French history, ideas – seem like a glorious adventure.

Random thoughts come to mind: Don’s picture of himself standing in front of “Foucault’s Furniture.” Don’s remark that he would never write the same after the arrival of hypertext – Everything connects to everything, no? – and Laura Down’s comment that she couldn’t imagine him ever having written in a linear fashion. Our email exchanges. While I was in Paris studying French sensationalism of the 19th c., Don sent me weekly updates on the O.J. case. The conference panel we did together a couple years after graduate school. It was performance art – Don could play the academic better than most of us.

I’ve felt at a loss that I haven’t seen more of Don in the last years. I’ve missed him. We exchanged emails every year or two and shared updates on kids, writing projects, misanthropy. But especially kids. I haven’t seen Benjamin in the flesh, but I felt the immense power of Don’s paternal joy every time we wrote.

This news leaves me terribly sad. But I can’t deny the pleasure it has been to read all of these recollections and see these pictures and remember how much love and friendship and wit and charm and intelligence Don spread. My thoughts go out to his family and all of his friends. We miss you, Don. Greg Shaya

Farwell to Don-from Melissa

2011-02-26T00:18:00.000-08:00

My husband Ray Spiteri and I met Don and Susan in 2003-when we were living in the States, having moved from Australia a year earlier. Don and Susan welcomed us into their home, put us up, were kind and generous, and we very quickly became friends. Don and Ray were collegues, with a love of Surrealism in common and they had enjoyed a close collaboration in this field for many years.
My first impressions of Don were of a big man with a big personality and a warm heart. He always made me laugh. He was witty, charming and self depreciating at times, something intrinsically part of Australian humour (easy for us to understand). I knew within an hour of knowing him that Don would be our friend forever-some people are just like that. Geographic distance does nothing to end such friendships.

When we stayed with him, Don put on some old films-something I find very comforting after a long journey. He put on a Barbara Stanwyck movie-one of my favourite actresses-and we bonded over that. Of all the beautiful actresses of the 40's and 50's - Ava Gardener, Marilyn Monroe and countless others- Barbara seemed to be Don's favourite-and it's not that surprising. Her life had been hard and her work was mesmerising. She was an abandoned child, self made, diciplined and intelligent- and she never gave up. She stood her ground. The characters she chose were often difficult, troubled women, fierce and distainful of authority. Double Indemnity was a film we both counted as a favourite.
Don quickly worked out my achilles heel-sure, I was raised by a Hippie Mum but all my childhood crushes were on Cops-in various films and tv shows- slowly, he got the information-I loved Jack Lord in Hawaii 5 0-Clint Eastwood in Magnum Force (Mum nearly disowned me over that) and the two MI5 guys (Bodie and Doyle) in the British cop show The Professionals. He laughed heartily at this, exclaiming dramatically-"What is it with you and cops, young lady?" Don concluded I must have been rebelling against my anti-authority, peace loving upbringing-and I think he was right there.

It's hard to accept Don has gone-harder to write about it. I still wish he was here. His impact on my husband's life was profound-they had a very positive, creative relationship and Don's passing leaves a huge void. I feel an immense sense of loss for him as a friend and wish so much he could have lived longer for Susan and Benjamin and others, near and dear to him. I'll never forget his generosity and kindness.
It has been an amazing gift to have known such a wonderful, spirited and dedicated person. We'll always hold him close in our hearts. Sending love to you, Susan and Benjamin xxx
Your friends,
Melissa and Ray

Letting Go Of Our Friend & Wordsmith Don LaCoss

2011-02-25T14:40:00.000-08:00

Don LaCoss could write brusquely and bluntly, with an almost baffling bite. With wordsmithing as revolutionary bile, his essays could burn power’s miserable bitterness.

Don LaCoss was a big man, with an even broader imagination. For a small man like me, the stunning size of his stature always struck me not as intimidating but as comforting. I felt him like a big brother or a mother bear; to me, his large presence reflected a larger vision.

My favorite Fifth Estate memory of Don LaCoss doesn’t involve typesetting one of his many articles in Quark Express or InDesign, even his excellent treatise on darkness that decorated our “Revisiting Primitivism” issue. It doesn’t involve discussing theory or action, surrealism or the sadness inherent to American politics.

On more than one occasion, I allowed my emotions to get-out-of-hand when dealing with an editorial dispute within our collective of hard-thinking anarchist intellectuals. This particular time, I have no idea what I was all riled up about. But as my former colleagues can attest, I could really stoke my publishing agenda with ideological fires that then fanned my personal and interpersonal passions.

In any case, Don decided to calm me down this particular day with an uncharacteristic use of a folksy maxim, particularly uncharacteristic for an atheist-surrealist. This time, Don talked me down by reminding me to “let go and let God.” Yes, those were his exact words—they really stuck out coming from him.

I have my hunch why he chose these words, but in any case, they worked to help me unwind my mind and take tasks one at a time. It was a gesture of love and brotherhood and friendship that really tugs at me now that he’s gone from this world.

To me, someone like Don LaCoss was both spiritual and spirited about his atheist-surrealism, and even his most critical tones reserved for the most obnoxious among the world’s elite were tempered by a humor and warm-heartedness that reflected Don’s enormous character.

There’s just not enough of the kind of wit and wisdom that Don brought us in the world today, and for the last several weeks, from my home in Tennessee, I have grieved and celebrated with Susan and Benjamin and all of Don’s friends and comrades. It breaks my heart that he died on the eve of a workers’ struggle in Wisconsin in which he undoubtedly would have been a visionary and vocal ally. ~Andy Smith (Sunfrog)

My crush on Don

2011-02-16T10:23:00.000-08:00

Don is one of the first people I remember meeting at graduate school, at an evening mixer for incoming students in the grand, formal Rackham building. He, Ian McNeely and I somehow found each other as historians in a nervous crowd of students from many departments. I was immediately drawn to them both, but especially Don – I wanted a piece of that! He was charismatic and handsome as hell.

I’d come to graduate school through a slightly unconventional path and was worried that I’d be hanging out with a bunch of over-privileged preppies at Michigan, and I would feel weird and out of place. Don quickly illustrated that wouldn’t be the case; plus, there would be opportunities to flirt with fascinating people like Don. I remember thinking later that night, “I think I’m really going to like it here!”

I never got a piece of Don. Instead, Ian and I ended up happily coupled through my graduate school years, but I was fortunate to know Don as a friend. He teased me about things like coming from a family of communists and dating a preppy. We commiserated about misspent youths. He helped me with a project I did for a video production class by talking on camera about his definition of God – I’ll see if I can find that somewhere.

Ian and I visited Don and Carolyn in Paris while they were all doing their research (I was along as an Americanist tourist). I remember Carolyn explaining how to eat stale baguettes for breakfast and Don explaining how Parisians dug up the street’s cobblestones to use during riots.

I’m so sorry and sad that he’s gone.

-- Mary Margaret Wheeler-Weber

Don's Colloquium

2011-02-13T16:06:00.000-08:00

Here is Don's flyer for his colloquium from a couple year's ago.
~DH

A Special Dad

2011-02-13T14:32:00.000-08:00

Fran Swift wrote the following for the "Parent Pulse" blog on the Family Resources website, and asked me to post it to Don's Blog as well....Susan Fossen

February 6, 2011

A special dad

It’s easy to become a father – but it takes hard work and intentional commitment to become a dad. This past week, a very special dad, Don LaCoss, died unexpectedly.

It’s hard to think of a young boy growing up without his dad – a dad who was hands on in the most significant ways – just “being” together, sharing insights, having conversations, discussing, explaining, asking questions, laughing, learning from one another, enjoying interests, exploring ideas and adventures, setting limits, having fun.

But that’s the way it was for this dad/son team.

Much has already been written about Don’s excellence and brilliance in the university classroom, in his extensive research and his amazing intellect.

But I want to acknowledge and celebrate Don as the special dad he was – and the caring friend, to me personally and to many Family Resources parents and staff.

One of my favorite memories of Don at Play Shoppe was on one of our winter outdoor adventures – sledding, on a very slick hill. No matter how we tried to position the sleds, they ended up heading straight for several trees at the bottom. Don volunteered to be the “protector” as he saved the day by darting from one sled to another catching the children before impact. No easy feat!

I know his son Benjamin’s six and a half years have already been packed with gifts galore from his Dad. And I know these treasures will remain a part of him as a source of comfort, joy and encouragement as the years go on.

But he will be sorely missed.

Our hearts go out to Susan and Benjamin.

An Appreciation of Donald

2011-02-13T14:23:00.000-08:00

Don was a great mentor and friend in the academic life. Over the past few years Donald and I shared a great many ideas on our common interest in Egyptian radical art movements in which both of us had books that were to be published soon. Don was completely selfless and a dedicated colleague who inspired us all with his original insights. My most heartfelt sentiments are with Donald's family.

Patrick Kane Ph.D.
Instructor of History
Clatsop Community College
Astoria, OR
pkane@clatsopcc.edu

with gratitude

2011-02-13T09:38:00.000-08:00

I have had the true pleasure of knowing Don, Susan and Benjamin for only four years…such an impact for such a short amount of time. As I walked away from my very first interaction with Don, I was smiling. I was instantly aware of what a remarkable man I had just met. Someone posted earlier on this blog that Don always made her feel smart. I understand that feeling – more than a sense of our own intelligence, he left us all with a clear understanding of our own individual worth and interest. I imagine that the injustice and violence of the greater world held disappointment and frustration for Don. I know, however, that the “lesser” world – the places he and Benjamin explored together, the people he loved and was loved by – that world was one of wonder for him. Don’s existence changed the world for so many of us. Seeing Don with Benjamin was a lovely picture of fatherhood. Talking to him about Susan and her accomplishments – from her work at UWL to Roller Derby – was a glimpse into a loving and respectful partnership. I will miss the happy surprises of seeing Don at the coffee shop, or at Family Resources, but I will remain grateful for the honor of knowing him. Susan Fossen

Don and Rainy

2011-02-11T13:17:00.001-08:00

I never taught Don but I think he and I must have started, in our different ways, at UM at almost the same time. He was a lively presence all the time, but he and I also became joking friends thru the coincidence of shared routes (I still think of the brown house on Washington where he had a flat for awhile as "Don's house"), but above all because I just liked and trusted him so much that it led to him become a frequent care-giver to my cat, Rainy. That sounds like a small thing, but it wasn't. Rainy was a fluffy black foundling who was extraordinarily, effusively affective. You could've dangled her by her toes and she's still have purred her adoration at you. And Don just delighted in her sweetness and was so gentle and funny with her. But also, she had been quite cowed by being around other cats but, living with me on her own, she became more demanding. Not grumpy, but loud and sort of a bossyboots. We referred to this as "when Rainy learned to swear." She would purr and shout at the same time and Don just scooped her up and teased her and played with her. Way back then in the dark ages too, music was still often on tapes and I would notice when I'd return from a trip out of town that Don might borrow tapes (disco and hi-NRG--hmm!) or they'd just be in a different order and I knew he'd been there not just to feed her and do the necessities but to hang with her and, I'm pretty sure, to dance with her. I loved the thought of this big sweet guy boogeying around my apt with a ball of deranged kitty love in her arms or on his shoulders. He was so smart and sharp and tough but it was that freedom of his heart that I find I, nervous junior faculty member without tenure or a certain life, was taking sustenance and support from just as much as Rainy did, in our jokey, casual, intellectually engaged but not really bothered about constantly proving it, friendship. I am so so sorry that I will never see him again. Kali Israel, University of Michigan

don

2011-02-09T10:15:00.000-08:00

Here are some topics covered in exchanges between Don and me in the last few months: family dynamics, religious iconography and signage, fear of abandonment, guilt, anarchist poetry, radical librarians, Barbara Stanwyck, Robert Mitchum, the formation of political beliefs, (my) continual shock at the political ignorance on a university campus (his response included lyrics from Elvis Costello), political unrest in Egypt, witchcraft, government-sanctioned torture, the general misinterpretation of sarcasm, being one’s own worst enemy, Laurel & Hardy . . . and these are only the few I can follow in e-mail or bring to mind right now. As others have observed here, I could count on Don to have some opinion, or at least some curiosity, about anything I sent his way. I could count on Don to write back, usually with some seemingly off-the-cuff but in fact insightful observation about whatever was the topic of the hour, no matter what else was going on with him. As is made clear by this blog, by the tremendous number of people who have contacted Susan in the past week, by my finally discovering just what the hell he was doing all the time, many, many people counted on him to pay attention to us. His vigorous expressions of dismay at the absurdity of the world were delightful to me. Now I’m forming a deeper appreciation for his willingness to pay attention--to us and to the world.
As I struggled to find a way to honor him and express my gratitude for knowing him for a short time, I came across these words from André Breton: “There is no solution outside love.” Thanks, Don, for loving us. We love you, too.
Jett (Heather J.)

"I feel pretty! Oh so pretty!"

2011-02-08T19:20:00.000-08:00

"I feel pretty! Oh so pretty!" The sound of Don hard-rocking out those lyrics from the musical Oklahoma as we tread the same Ann Arbor street day in and day out the summer we wrote our dissertations has always been a favorite memory-stone for me. It sums up for me his inimitable embodiment of irony and wit. By which I mean Don was just so fucking funny. He made me laugh like no one else. He saw the world as no one else quite exactly did and he pulled me in to that world view hook line and the rest of it. There's an image in a story I wrote that came exactly from a conversation he and I once had about how to read photographs. In the days before he died I'd been remembering the time he told me he didn't understand how anyone could stay down for long when there was so much yet to be discovered and understood and, since it was Don, obsessed about. His insatiable curiosity and his intellectual passions were contagious. How else to explain the appearance in my dissertation on Barbara Stanwyck quotations from Andre Breton?? It struck even me as absurd until I remembered, "oh yeah, that came from Don." His complete immersion in surrealism and da-da and French culture bled into our conversations and eventually into my own attempts to understand modernism and film and Stanwyck's configuration within those force fields. Don is a force. Even now, even still, always: loyalty, humor, irony, passion, friendship, unpretentious, true. Love to Don from Beth.

Amateur Surrealizing

2011-02-08T13:28:00.000-08:00

For those able to attend the memorial on Sunday...

At the gathering you will be able to contribute to the creation of a DaDa style collage honoring Don, we hope, in both content and spirit. There will be all kinds of collaging materials to work with--paper, pens, glue, tape, scissors, etc. But the best things will be the images and artifacts that occur to you as you remember Don. We invite you to bring along any such thing that you would like to incorporate into the collage.

On second thought...perhaps those unable to come can mail in items to incorporate. I'll volunteer to receive them and see that they get where intended. Digital images can be sent to me by email: lybeck.mart@uwlax.edu. If something is to be mailed: Marti Lybeck, 112 5th Ave S. Apt 2, La Crosse, WI 54601.

We'll be sure to post photos of the collage.

Joan Jett, Jodie Foster, and Cake

2011-02-08T11:10:00.000-08:00

I’ve been sitting at my desk for a while, trying to figure out how to put into words memories of a man I (and many others of us) unfairly hardly got to know. I was only really in Don’s presence a handful of times. Normally, I wouldn’t feel comfortable adding my small piece here. But, Don was anything but normal. From what little I knew of him, I think he’d revel in that short description.

The most memorable of my moments with Don was also the first time I met him. Ginny had invited Darci and Peyton and I to dinner with she and Dennis and Don while Susan was out of town. I was nervous – I was new here, and going to meet all these new people, including my Chair’s partner. I didn’t need to be, which I realized as soon as Don started talking, not because he wasn’t brilliant or witty, but because he wasn’t expecting anything from me but what I had to offer. That night, I learned that Don was an artist, and had shook Joan Jett’s hand and sat on a toilet right after Jodie Foster (which clearly impressed us all). We had a mutual hatred for various systems, and discussed how normalcy propels and authorizes us to do some really, well, idiotic shit. I remember less what we talked about, though, and more how I felt. I felt at home, listened to, respected, invested in. I almost immediately loved these wonderfully idiosyncratic people, my new colleagues and friends. I laughed so much my side hurt, ate way too many cookies, and thoroughly enjoyed the comforting boom of Don’s voice, the raise and lower of stories that came billowing from within and moved out into the night.

A few months ago, Don emailed me to thank me for some cake I’d made. It seems stupid to be writing about a thank you for cake, but minuscule as it may seem, it was this interaction that really shaped how I came to think about Don. I had no idea he’d had any of this particular cake -- there was no need take the time to recognize it at all. Instead, one particularly difficult morning I received his kind email of thanks, and a wish to see me soon. It was short and simple, but it made my day; in fact, I talked about it for days after, not only because of the appreciation, but because of what he reminded me. Don understood, I think, that (as Maya Angelou eloquently said) people will never forget how you made them feel. Even in our small interactions, much as it seems he did with everyone, Don made me feel I mattered and was appreciated, and in doing so reminded me how such little signals can be the things that keep us afloat. I kept the email. For a self-proclaimed guy who hated people, he also seemed to love them, deeply, a favor clearly and easily returned again and again.

The world is certainly dimmer without Don, that’s about the only other thing I can say for certain. I’m devastated for us all, for those of us who barely got to know him, and especially those for whom in the great pleasure of knowing him, also fully understand the magnitude of his loss.

With love,
Marie

Don and Carolyn, Don's Bad Haircut by Elisa

2011-02-08T06:35:00.000-08:00

Don and "Shallot," King and Queen of the 5th Arrondissement

2011-02-08T06:23:00.000-08:00

Don and Caroyln as King and Queen for the day -- crowned after eating the Galette du Roi on the Epiphany. I believe Carolyn's scepter is a kitchen tool for creating milk foam.

Paris, 1995: Don, Jesse, Elisa

2011-02-08T06:08:00.000-08:00

This is Don's room in Paris, as described in Carolyn's post. Here he is with Jesse the Dalmatian. Don loved the second photo because it looked like Jesse was attacking him.

What's Up Doc?

2011-02-07T21:02:00.000-08:00

Here are some of Don’s very own brilliant words on a subject close to his heart: Bugs Bunny. He wrote the following memorial for his mentor, Franklin Rosemont, who died in April, 2009. Don passed it on to me after we chatted once about the virtues of Looney Tunes.

In an email introducing it, Don says:

"…as his memorial at the newberry library in chicago last july, we were asked to write something about one of his [Rosemont’s] passions, and i did a rant about the revolutionary unconscious of bugs bunny cartoons)...it had been a pet project of his for the better part of ten years, so it pleases me to think that he's working his gris-gris from beyond the grave."

Here's Don's lovely rant:

Franklin Rosemont Commemoration
Newberry Library, Chicago, 11 July 09

The last time I spoke with Franklin was on the telephone a few days before he died. It was a typical conversation for us that ranged widely over a broad spectrum of topics: new ideas, new projects, new discoveries, old favorites… I was especially anxious to tell him about a half-hour documentary film I had just seen about the artist and filmmaker Chuck Jones called Memories of Childhood—you may not know the name “Chuck Jones,” but I’m sure that you’ve all seen his artwork. From 1935 to 1959, Jones was the animation film director at Warner Brothers’ studios and the creative force behind the Golden Age “Looney Tunes” and “Merrie Melodies” animated short films featuring Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Sylvester and Tweety, the Roadrunner and the Coyote, and, of course, Bugs Bunny.

I was one of those kids whose mind was forever shaped, twisted, and warped by the art and craft of Chuck Jones, and I admit I was a little embarrassed by how fascinated I was by these films. It was only long after the damage was done that I read some of Franklin’s essays in radical defense of Bugs Bunny. Franklin saw revolutionary poetry in Bugs Bunny’s anarchic humor and disdain for the conventions of reality, even though the Grey Hare was a commodity produced by the entertainment-industrial complex. But, as Franklin argued over the years, Bugs Bunny’s guerrilla war on the miseries of daily life is so subversive and so poetic that it spills over the corporate cage that keeps him a prisoner of capitalism.

Franklin insisted that Bugs Bunny’s genealogical heritage stretched back to Cherokee legends of the trickster rabbit, to African-American folklore about Br’er Rabbit, and to both the White Rabbit and the March Hare of the Alice in Wonderland myths. With such a powerful history, Bugs Bunny is well outside of the confines of intellectual property laws—Bugs can be sampled, pirated, and hijacked out of his “authorized” texts and liberated by popular culture. Both hip and hopping, Bugs Bunny has been activated and energized by the imaginations of children for decades—Bugs is a laughing rebel whose thought and actions are infinitely more instructive, interesting, and relevant than his corporate overlords had ever intended. With an insight keener than a roomful of psychologists, Chuck Jones once explained the appeal simply when he said “Bugs is who we want to be. Daffy is who we are.”

Franklin said that Bugs Bunny—like Buster Keaton, Groucho Marx, Pigmeat Markham, and Eve Arden—was a lightning rod for creative rambunctiousness and celebrations of wildly expressive play. Bugs Bunny was important to Franklin because he conceived of humor as both a tool and a weapon against tyranny of all kinds. Franklin wrote: “Against all forms of oppression and horror, humor wreaks havoc—humor deflects horrors full force by means of a powerful shield of poetic intuition. When oppression and horror become total, nothing less than total humor can do the trick. Humor alone can effect a revolution of consciousness.”
Reading Franklin’s writings on the subject taught me to think about Bugs Bunny dialectically: “It is impossible to appreciate the genius of the world’s greatest rabbit without understanding Elmer Fudd,” Franklin wrote in the catalog of the 1976 World Surrealist Exhibition. Fudd is the anti-Bugs, the vivid example of petty authoritarian mediocrity whose existence is dominated by his consuming obsession to destroy wild animals and wilderness and to viciously protect his private property. The Hegelian tango between Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd is an intriguing cathartic parable of class warfare for our time, but it is also funny as hell.

In our last telephone conversation, Franklin listened with interest to my report on what insights I had gleaned from the documentary on Chuck Jones about our old pal Bugs Bunny. He occasionally asked some clarifying questions about my observations, but mostly he just chuckled (in that way he that did) as I mentioned some of the new things I had learned about Bugs since starting to watch those old cartoons with my five year-old son. The boy was viewing these Chuck Jones classics for the first time with a fresh set of eyes, howling with laughter and wonder at this “screwy rabbit”—my son’s observations seem to have confirmed Franklin’s theories.

In 1935, the poet André Breton wrote this simple dialectical formula about surrealism: “Marx said, ‘Transform the world’; Rimbaud said, 'Change life'; these two mottoes are for us one and the same.” Fifty-five years later, Franklin told a story about a surrealist publication he had received from abroad that carried the bold-face declaration: “‘Bugs Bunny world! Bugs Bunny life! These two commands are for us but one!’” Inspired by this Franklin concluded that 1989 essay with some words that I want to leave you all with this afternoon: “Until further notice, the watchword of the next revolution remains: ‘What’s up, Doc?’”
________________________________________________________________________

Matt C.

I remember Don

2011-02-07T20:40:00.000-08:00

Like many people posting here, I knew Don at Michigan. I remember well his sense of humor, his kindness, his vital intelligence, and his wonderful ability to have an animated, engaged conversation on any topic. If you were going to be attending an obscure lecture somewhere on campus and wondered if anybody else you knew was going to be there, the odds were very high that the one person you knew would be Don, who would always manage to ask a smart, thoughtful question. If you found yourself, say, at a party on North Campus with a bunch of engineers, it would more than likely turn out that the one person they knew on the "other campus" was Don.

He was one of those people you'd imagine running into unexpectedly at the airport. But, it wouldn't be just any airport. It would be an obscure, tiny airport where your plane had been diverted for mechanical reasons, and you would enter the sparsely populated waiting area expecting to be bored for the next several hours, and instead, run into Don, who would, with his conversation, make the time pass in a flash.

I thought of him when I was getting ready to go out today--how he always wore the layers of t-shirts, and how, it seemed, you could judge the weather by the number/type of t-shirts he wore. If I'd had the opportunity to see that this morning, I would have know exactly what jacket to wear. -- Margaret Foley

Remembering a great Professor, a great Man

2011-02-07T19:59:00.000-08:00

Im going to apologize in advance for my rambling. There's so much to say about Dr. LaCoss, so I'll do my best to make sense of everything in my brain.

I'll never forget my first experience with Dr. LaCoss. It was my very first class during my first semester at UW-L. As a freshman, I had no idea what to expect from classes and professors. It was HIS 101 in Wimberly Hall. All the students were waiting for class to start when in walks this big guy wearing shorts that looked like they used to be sweatpants, a very tattered black sweatshirt, a winter stocking cap (in September), thick, black rimmed glasses, and, best of all, combat boots! He sits down at the desk in the front of the room! This guy is our professor?! He passes out the syllabus and says, "See you Thursday." I could just tell that this guy was going to be an experience, and he was!

Dr. LaCoss was such a great teacher of history. His ability to bring relevant issues to the discussion through historical events was awesome! I always made Dr. LaCoss' classes my #1 priority during course selections because I knew he would make the semester worth my tuition. I was so lucky to have had four courses with Dr. LaCoss. He was without a doubt the best professor I had at UW-L, and I had some really good professors.

What I think I'll miss most about Dr. LaCoss is something that I rarely got to experience but really wish I had had the opportunity to experience with him. Dr. LaCoss was an easy person to talk to about anything, and what was so awesome was that he would always listen, even if he disagreed. I believe that Dr. LaCoss and I wouldn't have had a whole lot in common, but I know that he never would have disregarded or devalued my opinions. If there is one thing I learned from Dr. LaCoss, its that differing opinions are good! Discussion and respectful debate is good! Man, what an awesome dude!

Dr. LaCoss, you will be missed. Your impact lives on, and I hope you can feel the love and appreciation that so many people have for you.

R.I.P.
Nick Larson

one of my favorite professors and mentors at UWL

2011-02-07T10:46:00.000-08:00

[I'm posting this for Kelly, who first put it as a comment to another post. --Susan]

As I cannot for the life of me figure out how to log in from here in France, I find it necessary to leech off of this comment. Normally I would have just given up and not said anything but Dr. LaCoss was too important to me. I had a very hard time believing the headline of my e-mail as I read it Wednesday - I had said good-bye to him as I left last semester and promised to send e-mails with pictures from my time abroad. It seems as though it was just yesterday I was crying over my frustrations of dealing with "the system" trying to get into grad school; something with which Don was quick to sympathize and criticize. As my adviser, he was the person who suggested I take the history of medicine track instead of medical school and forever changed my life's path. As my professor, he was the quickwitted man who introduced me to all of the bureaucracy and bullshit in the professional history field. As an awesome person in general, he made me a tougher, more concise and more sarcastic historian, showing me you don't have to sell out to play the game. He was truly a shining light among academics and will forever remain one of my favorite professors and mentors at UWL. I sorrowfully regret that I will never be able to send him my thesis one day but his touch will be on every page. I have shed many tears in the past few days shocked that such a good man could pass so suddenly but I feel as though Don would want me to find humor in the fact that he is probably arguing intellectual issues with the Devil (or, Lord help him, God) right now. He was a shining academic light who has left an indelible mark on both me and my field. I will never forget the professor in the t-shirt and cotton shorts. Because I will not be there to say it in person, Good-Bye Dr. LaCoss – I miss you already

Kelly Nussbaum

No Tacos for Cuddles

2011-02-06T20:54:00.000-08:00

Susan posted this story that Don and Benjamin wrote on Facebook a while back. Since then, it's become a favorite with my kids and I. When I heard of Don's passing, I wanted to do something to help. All profits of this book will go towards Benjamin's college fund.
With love I present "No Tacos For Cuddles" by Don La Coss and Benjamin Franklin LaCoss Crutchfield

No Tacos for Cuddles by Story and illustrations by Don LaCoss and Benjamin Franklin LaCoss Crutchfield | Make Your Own Book

Random Recollections of my friend

2011-02-06T15:15:00.000-08:00

When we first were starting to really get to know Don and Susan, they came over for one of those late-into-the-evening porch suppers, and I remember the thrill of interacting with like minds; it was like falling in love – they were both so cool and smart and funny. Over the years, I’ve always felt proud when I could make Don laugh – like, if this incredibly hip guy thought what I was saying was interesting, then maybe I was a little bit hip, too. I’ll bet many of you reading this have had the same feeling.

When Dennis and I were in Scotland for the fall 2006 semester, we planned an 8-day trip to Paris, so I quizzed Don about what we should see and where we should go. His lengthy, detailed message is a kind of Don’s tour of Paris, and when we walked the routes he suggested, we imagined him all over that city. Here’s part of that note:

“the 3ème & 4ème make up the "marais" ("swamp"), the oldest and most lovely
part of paris, i think. the national archives were over there, so when i
went there to work every day. another walking tour that you might like is
to start at the musée pompidou (a great modern & contemporary art museum
if you're interested in going inside) in the 4eme and head towards the
3eme: go from pompidou to rambuteau, right at rue vieille du temple until
you hit rue des rosiers ("street of rosebushes"-- amazing jewish delis
where i had falafel lunch while in the archives). go down rosiers to rue
pavée and finish up in places des vosges. i think you'll pass by the
mariage frères on the rue du bourg-tibourg on this route, but i don't have
a map here in front of me to be sure. anyhow, under the right weather
conditions and at the right time of the day, this is a seductively
beautiful stroll through quintessential paris-- you will get laid
afterwards, believe you me.”

He signed the e-mail, “I hate you both for enjoying Paris.” J We were also calling each other and ourselves by the names of strange (to me) foods I’d been seeing in the UK: “Dear Nut Loaf,” “With love, Lemon Swish,” “Dearest Seed Meat,” “Your Pal, Scrumpy Jack,” etc.

I’m remembering all the warm-weather gatherings on our screened-in porch; I’m remembering sitting in the kitchen and seeing Don’s head go past the porch window. Sometimes, when he and Benjamin were out and about, they’d pop in to see if I had anything good for snack-time.

I loved cooking for and feeding Don; he was a great audience, and I was always working to see if I could get the curry hot enough to make him swear (never really could – too timid!). He could tell a good from a bad pie crust, and he agreed with me that the best were made with butter. When he liked something, he’d say, “This shit is the bomb!”

It was always such a pleasant surprise to run in to Don. Someone else has already mentioned that delightful happenstance of being out about some business and seeing Don; suddenly, nothing seemed so urgent anymore and you’d find yourself standing in the grocery aisle or pulling up a chair at the coffee shop to get lost in great conversation.

Susan, Don, and Benjamin lived with us for about three months the summer their house was being redone, and every morning, Don would say to Benjamin, “Eat up, Bug; let’s go.” They went out every morning, coming back some time after 12 for lunch and nap. I asked him, “Where do you guys go every day?” “Oh, here and there,” he said. They were working on visiting every park in La Crosse (they’re the ones who told me about the interesting little park behind Quillin’s, Seminary Park); they’d go play on the train in Copeland Park, go look for wildlife at Goose Island, hike around on the bluffs.

Don always had great stories about “Dada” moments in the car, times when they’d be driving around and B would get quiet and then ask, “Dada, why did that guy fight the law?” or something else about a song playing on the radio or a law of nature or the supernatural or some metaphysical inquiry.

When the principal at Benjamin’s school died very suddenly in October, I remember talking to Don about the way the Waldorf school commemorated her life and helped the children understand her death. Don was touched by the meaningfulness of these rituals, in a world where so many rituals have lost meaning and/or been abandoned. We talked about finding some way to ritualize those we’d lost, and we swore that next year, we’d celebrate the Day of the Dead.

I’m going to miss Don a lot, for a long, long time. It’s hard to believe he won’t be popping in with some weird sci-fi movie or e-mailing some anecdote about an especially annoying student. I love when he had to explain to his online HIS 101 class how to tell time:

“HIS 101> how to tell time

quite a few of you wrote to say that you couldn't take the quiz because
you didn't understand that "disappears on Sunday July 27th at 1am" didn't
mean "disappears on monday july 28th at 1am."

see, this is how it works: at midnight, days change. so it's saturday all
day until midnight.

and then at 1 second after midnight, saturday magically changes into
sunday.

so, it's saturday july 26th until midnight, and then it turns into sunday
july 27th. "sunday july 27th at 1am" means "one hour after midnight
saturday july 26th" & not "25 hours after midnight saturday july 26th" or
"one hour after midnight sunday july 27th". because that would be monday
july 28th at 1am.

are we all clear about how to tell time now? if not, then maybe you could
ask a grown-up for help.”

I suppose I’ve written enough. I’ve been so happy to hear all the other stories and tributes and to know that Don has always been Don. I'll sign off as he often did:

miss you; kiss you

Virg

In Emily Dickinson's Garden, 2010

2011-02-06T08:47:00.000-08:00

To Catch Them

2011-02-06T07:31:00.000-08:00

Joan Didion wrote in one of her best essays that "writing has not yet helped me see what it means" ("The White Album"). This, from such a consummate writer, makes me feel a little better. I love reading all the blog narratives about Don, but I'm afraid I just can't create an expressive statement yet, you know, the kind that will help the tears flow warmly and sweetly?. To risk offending with a transparent confession: I feel hot, staticky, dry; hot, staticky, depressed; I don't want to bathe or wash my hair. Bah

I can say this: I'll always love Don's range, in the intellectual and humane senses. With whom else could I enjoy both The Creeping Terror AND Hans Jonas' The Gnostic Religion: The Message of the Alien God & the Beginnings of Christianity?

Don will be credited in the Toni Morrison book for his amazing suggestions. He gave me two really fundamental ones: the Jonas book for my work on Paradise and African Diaspora musics. The project is now grounded in ethnomusicology as much as it is in lit.theory and crit. Thanks, Don.

Some of you know I have a continual dance with depression. Don't worry, I'm managing it. But I just won't hide it, not now. I've got a mean blues, and it's not going to fly to the other side of the rainbow anytime soon.

In Beloved, Toni Morrison has her main character, Sethe, think something about a man who walked across 5 states to sit on her front porch that I think best indicates how I feel about Don LaCoss; that this man (Paul D in Beloved ) was the kind of man in front of whom the women could cry. Because he would be there, in all the figurative senses that that phrase can command, to catch them if they fall.

sharon j (I forgot to add this; maybe I can edit it still?)

Brothers

2011-02-05T18:53:00.001-08:00

To most people looking in from the outside, my brother and I would be complete polar opposites. My brother had 8+ years of college, myself, 2 years at tech school. He was a decorated college professor and I a plumber. I have never posted a “blog” on face book, texted anyone, watched a single episode of survivor, listened to an “usher” song or read a people magazine, or played a video game. See, we are not so opposite after all.

I guess my fondest memories of Don were when we were both young adults. We both lived at home at my parent’s house in CT. My father finished half of the basement off and my brother used, as a bedroom/office. He was going to college full time and spent the rest of the time in the basement. Every so often he would emerge and partake in what ever I was doing above ground. We would play wiffle ball games with my friends, set back games that usually sent him back to the basement tired and broke, an occasional Red Sox game, or a concert.

I will never forget when Don decided to ride my snowmobile for the first time. There was a big snowstorm and I could not resist starting up the snowmobile. So Don came outside and put on my helmet but it was too small for his head, but I insisted he wear it. After a few tense moments, Don was riding circles in the open field with a smile ear to ear. Imagine Don ripping around the field with a shield that would not close with the word “Wildcat” across the snowmobile’s hood.

I really enjoyed when Don entered my world. When Don left for Michigan I was heartbroken. Now, I ‘d have to watch the reruns of Miami Vice and Crime Story in the middle of the night by myself.

Don came home one early summer to clear his remaining stuff from the house. I suggested the two of us go away to climb Mt. Washington for a couple of days. He quickly agreed, he wanted to escape the tension of our parents impending divorce. My brother’s scars ran longer and deeper than mine. I learned this at an early age. The hike to the top of Mt. Washington is about 5 hours. The last 1 mile of it is above the tree line. We had to climb up boulders the size of cars. At about the 4 hour mark, Don was getting noticeably fatigued and tired. Of course his Vietnam era combat boots with broken laces and his cut off sweat pants did not help. He agreed to stop and rest while I continued the climb. Some 200 yards later I looked back to see Don resting below me on a rock watching me. I had a horrible feeling I was abandoning my brother, I decided to turn back, and we both descended, satisfied.

I enjoyed seeing Don as a father and was very proud of him in every way. When he came home this summer with his family, 3 years had elapsed since we’d see each other. After are handshake/hug greeting, I could sense Don looking at me inconspicuously, it wasn’t until he said, “I’m kind of disappointed I thought you’d have more white hair by now”. Then I knew he was back. And as we watched our children playing together I knew some where along the line we both became men and now I’m a man with a long deep scar.

Your brother, Davey

i hate myself

2011-02-05T15:23:00.000-08:00

was the title of one of the last e-mail exchanges I had with don. of course, it was in reference to joan jett, who we both agreed is incredibly hot and we would both love to, well, <insert unspeakables> with her. one of the things i so love(d) (it's so hard to be in the past tense) about don was that he told the most incredible stories and i remember that he had one about jj. although i can't remember the specifics, i do know don had me and peyton rolling, i know the conversation pleasurably ebbed into the bizarre, and I know we loved every moment of it.

selfishly, i always wanted to station myself near don at parties--or really anywhere i saw him, including the bus stop. don had the most incredible way of making me feel special and smart and clever. clearly he had this affect on many people. and, when i say that i will miss him, i feel pathetic because i will miss him for susan and benjamin, but i will also, selfishly, miss him for myself.

i think don would get a kick out of this blog, although i know he would prefer to sit quietly in a corner with each of us and have an intense conversation about art, history, riot grrls, decadence, and the latest and most ridiculous (embarrassing) event of each of our lives. on blogging, this is a recent conversation i had with don:

me: Hey Don,

Thought you might get a kick out of this blog (in reference to our fin de siecle convo the other night). Don’t ask me what I was looking for when I found it...

http://theflaneurblog.com/about/

Don: i dunno... to me, blogging seems like the antithesis of the flaneur, the dandy & the decadent. but maybe i'm just hopelessly stuck in the c.19th... i have to read it more and think about it more.

*******

the world is less fun without you, don.

much love,

darci

Everlasting/Snow Angel Impression

2011-02-05T15:04:00.000-08:00

It was my pleasure to be acquainted to Don LaCoss as his son's kindergarten teacher. In my long experience, it is rare to meet such a radical, intelligent, sensitive, intellectual, humerus, serious, dedicated, compassionate, accepting, knowledgeable, creative, witty, gentle, intimidating big man!

I quickly learned to be very mindful of my words so as to not to seriously hurt this man, when I spoke to him about his son, Benjamin. He took my words in deeply. That experience for me as a kindergarten teacher delivering a progress report about a kindergartner, albeit Don's son, Benjamin, held such reverberation that it will remain an indelible mark on me as a teacher, perhaps the result is more of me legitimately becoming the student of Don LaCoss. There is an everlasting impression!

As a small tribute to this man, we will try to make as many snow angel impressions in the ball field in Copeland Park as we can possibly create in this week of remembering Don. Please come and join us whenever you have some time.

Ms MaryEllyn, Three Rivers Waldorf School, Kindergarten Teacher

Love

2011-02-05T08:21:00.000-08:00

I have wanted to post something for days that would capture what Don meant to me in the years that we spent time together, and I have found it impossible. Too many feelings getting in the way of the words. So I have turned to the historical sources of that friendship (my archive, if you will) to help me. In re-reading the letters we wrote back and forth to each other while he was in Ann Arbor and I was in Paris doing doctoral research, I found a quote that I had mailed to him on the nature of love: "Love is not a chemical reaction (though it is that), but also an emotional accomplishment, a moral choice, the sublime felt experience that accompanies the providing of comfort, the making of kindness, the willingness to forgive, and the granting of dignity."

To me, this is how Don loved. Those of us who felt that love were given a great gift. I will always be grateful to have been among them.

In loving testimony to a wonderful man,
Maud

Don was such a great person...

2011-02-05T03:53:00.000-08:00

Don was one of my first friends in Ann Arbor. When he and Carolyn and I met, he used to pretend that Carolyn was this really competitive, mean person, and would joke that when no one else was around (since they were both studying French history), Carolyn would come up to him and poke her finger in his chest and be like "you listen to me...you better watch out Lacoss and stay the f... out of my way, or there will be hell to pay!" When I visited Don and Carolyn in Paris, Don and I went to the Buttes Chaumont together, and I have such fond memories of spending time with him there. Although we lost touch once we left Ann Arbor and started our jobs, I have always had a special place in my heart for him as one of the people with whom I shared the huge ups and downs of graduate school. I felt like even if we didn't see each other much towards the end of our PhDs, we always completely understood one another. I am so sad knowing he is no longer with us, and I send my condolences to his family, who I know will mourn his loss deeply. My thoughts are with you...Liz Horodowich

good guy, great dad

2011-02-05T01:33:00.000-08:00

To many my age, Don is remembered as an amazing & thought-provoking history professor, however I had the opportunity to get to know him as a father to Benjamin. I watched B for a few years during my undergrad and grad school days. “Benjaminizing or Benjamifaction” (as Don called it) was always an adventure. Don often had ideas for what the two of us should do -- go to the giant slide pool, play disc golf, build cucumber boats with Fran and the gang at the park -- he always wanted B to have the opportunity to try fun new things.

He was a great dad. B really looked up to him, both as a dad, and history professor. You’ll never meet a kid who knows more about the revolutionary war (or any war, really) than B. And Don was so proud of how smart he is. As a nanny- I also appreciated Don as a father. He cared, but he wasn’t the “over-protective parent” type. One time, I was trying to teach B how to ride a bike, and we didn’t have any accidents all day. Then, when the big moment came to show Don the progress, he ran right into a brick retaining wall and fell over.

After my time with B, I would drop him off and stay to chat with Don for 5, 10, 15 minutes. I would pick his brain on his opinions of things and he would challenge my thoughts on various topics….We would talk about the progress (or lack there of) of his book and problems with publishers, he would give me his unique advice about my education, career decisions, relationship, and up-coming wedding, and of course we would exchange “you won’t believe what B did/said today” stories. I also got a lot of good-natured banter from Don… mostly about my wedding. He didn’t believe I could make my wedding dress, and would always point out how little time I had left to finish it (which I did, with the help of Susan!) Also, he tried to convince me to let him be the Officiant, insisting that he was a skilled professional and he would behave. He didn’t officiate, but he did come to the wedding. Afterward he sent a simple email saying how the whole day was a fun-loving event that really reflected our personalities and how he and his family really enjoyed it -- coming from Don, this meant a lot to me.

Don- I will miss you. I will miss learning new “hippie” slag, getting your ridiculous recommendations for Halloween costumes, your harassment about Paul, and your non-traditional life advice…. But most of all I will miss just sitting in the kitchen, having fun with “a couple of wild and crazy guys.”

With love to Susan and Benjamin,

Sarah Zdroik

learning

2011-02-04T18:25:00.000-08:00

A week ago today I was sitting with Don at Family Resources. We were watching our kids play and discussing learning. My daughter Rachel and Don's Benjamin are in kindergarten together. Don told me how Miss Mary Ellen said Benjamin "is sooo ready" for first grade. At that time Rachel found my name tag on the floor and brought it to me. Don mentioned how great that was that she's starting to recognize words. We talked about learning to read and recognizing symbols. He talked about the research we was doing at the university studying Arabic. He was fascinated that he and his son were at the same reading level - how they both were recognizing words. It was a great conversation. Talking with Don always made me feel smart. I rarely have the chance to have a real grown up conversation that makes me feel so smart. I went home and talked to my husband about it. It is a memory that will stay with me.

Sara L Adams
Chuck, Rachel and Julia too

don lacoss i remember you

2011-02-04T18:13:00.000-08:00

ann arbor grad school days. my poor mind can't trade in stories, only impressions are left, wherever it is in the brain that memory lays its seeds. and don was the kind of guy who left an impression. so strange to summon it up now after so long. seeing his picture here in this digital space - a greying beard has been added. a child has been added. susan.

the memory of him arises to the surface again: his voice with its veritable drawl of cool. big all the way around, big glasses, big humor, big mind. paris.

i'm still here in ann arbor. i go by don's old apartment all the time, now across from the YMCA and think always vaguely "don lived there" and remember hanging out in his funky one-bedroom space filled with books and art, so close to the kiwanis sale and, was not Don LaCoss a very hip dude and don't i feel hipper for knowing him? i was always loving his brand of spikey conversation and sparring, funny & smart in a harper's type of way.

and never quite keeping in touch either, so that now there's this large gap between knowing Don in grad school, and knowing Susan too in grad school and all the life (and children!) that has happened between then and now, when Don's part of the story has abruptly ended and there will be no catching up that we we will ever do. how strange.

yet how i am still able to send another heartfelt toast for you, Don, with fondness, from your ann arbor lifetime and a toast to you my dear Susan, from that same era but also from now, in this moment. thank you for including me in the weaving you are doing, of stories and celebrations, of all the lifetimes of our man. There's a lot of love here in these words. a big life and a well done one at that.

peace, Kath

Comrades in Grad School

2011-02-04T18:10:00.000-08:00

I met Don on the first day of graduate school, on the steps of the Clements Library, at a reception for new graduate students. I knew from the list the department sent out that "Donald LaCoss" was the only other person listed as studying modern French history in our cohort. So I met Don, and he was not who I imagined this "Donald LaCoss" would be, but then who could ever imagine someone like Don? We immediately became comrades in grad school, with many of the same classes. I remember making cookies in the shape of France for our grad seminar snack during the first semester of grad school, with a dot put on the cookie where "Limoges, The Red City" was located. I had a dream a few months ago of being back in grad school classes with Don, and it was a happy dream.

Don and I became friends, and Don would often tell people the story about meeting on the first day of grad school, but he put a completely twisted, hilarious spin on the story. In his version, I walked up to him, poked him in the chest with my finger, and said something like, "Hey, Pal, you studying French history? Well, you better watch out...you're swimming with the sharks now and I'm going to kick your ass." Something like that, but longer and more elaborate, but it was pretty funny.

The first summer, Don and I drove back to Connecticut together. We each lived at our parents' houses and took Reading German at Yale. Sometimes Don would pick me up at the New Haven train station in that 80s Buick his high school friend discussed. The car was enormous, and Don was, indeed, still starting it with a spoon each time, which never ceased to amuse me.

We remained comrades and close friends in the early years of grad school and then were roommates in Paris. Don very sweetly took the room with a tiny single bed, which sagged hugely in the middle, since I was captivated by the larger room with yellow wallpaper. His room did have a little balcony that he liked to sit at, and I remember sitting there with him, drinking tea and coffee. Marveling at, analyzing, and making fun of the French always made for good conversation. I don't have a great memory so I have trouble remembering specifics. I seem to remember that although Don was such a brilliant guy, he wasn't that good at math, and always had strange, unusual ways of figuring out dollar/franc currency conversions....

Sometimes, when I do something stupid, I hear Don's voice say a Homer Simpsonesque "D'oh!" in my head. When I say something fairly obvious and realize it, I hear Don's voice say, "D'ya think?" I don't know if I'll ever stop hearing that voice saying those things, since I haven't seen Don in about a decade, and I still hear him. I've missed him in the last decade and always thought I'd get in contact with him and reestablish our friendship at some point, and now I'm heartbroken that I can't. I'm grateful to be able to read the blog to hear about his time in LaCrosse and as a father and with Susan -- it sounds like a very happy time. My thoughts are with you, Susan and Benjamin.

Carolyn

From another one of Don's students:

2011-02-04T15:50:00.000-08:00

I was on my way to meet him for the first time when I decided to first stop by Susan’s office for some reason (I was a student of hers at the time). On my way out, I mentioned to her that I was now going to ask a history professor if he would sign a slip allowing me into his already-full class. She asked who it was, and I read the name “LaCoss” from my notebook. “Oh,” Susan said, in a way that made me ask, “You know him?” And she responded with, “He’s my boyfriend,” which I certainly wasn’t expecting. I don’t remember what else was said between me and Susan. But I do remember Don waiting for me in his office, already well-aware of my intentions. His apparent ESP, combined with his striking physical presence in a dimly lit office made me eager to get the form signed and get the hell out of there before my nervousness got the best of me and I said something stupid. (Don later explained to me that Susan had called him after I left her office and warned him I was coming.) That was the start of my embarrassing admiration for the guy—ESP or no.

I remember he assigned the most dry, theory-logged book on “pre-history” to kick off the semester in his gen-ed required “history of western civilization” class—packed with roughly 60 apathetic freshmen. When he caught wind that no one was reading, he gave us a pop-quiz (ungraded) to survey how many were sticking it out. I just remember writing an apology on my quiz for not reading, instead of guessing at the answers like most of the other students. The next class he shared the dismal results of his survey, including that one student wrote an apology. I sank in my chair, hoping that he couldn’t put the name to the face, as he sounded annoyed, but I still hope that it amused him. He ended up rewriting the syllabus and getting us new books, which is a testament to his patience as a teacher. Before long I was sharing stories of his lectures with my friends: his rendition of the Children’s Crusades (with an eye for irony) is more side-splitting than any Monty Python skit. I just wish I had a recording of it.

I remember one class he was talking about these ancient statues from fertility cults… mostly what looked like unpainted garden gnomes, each sporting an erect penis. He was trying to explain the significance of the penis being erect and not flaccid when he interrupted himself and explained to the class, “For those of you who have only seen a penis when it is erect, they’re not always like that.”

I exchanged Don stories like this with other history students. One story that I heard took place when a woman (in retrospect, most likely it was Patty) asked Don’s class to sign a petition. Don told the class that he’d much rather the students throw rocks than sign petitions. A student then asked, “where would you have us throw these rocks?” Don responded in a playful tone: “indiscriminately.”

If Don had only made me laugh and learn, I would still owe him an incredible debt, because he did it so much and so well. But Don was also there for me as a mentor… I’ll never forget the affirmation I felt when he told me that I was ready for “the brain-fuck” and should apply to grad school, or when he scoffed when I mentioned that moving away would be hard because of a romantic attachment: “you’re way too young [to be tied down].” I remember in my later years on campus I had been reading a lot of Chomsky and was becoming very enchanted by his ideas. The next time I saw Don I was excited to impress him with my new thoughts and anarchist sympathies, when he calmly shrugged at the mention of Chomsky, complaining of how dry and boring the man’s writing is, and how we can do better.

When I heard that Don died my stomach dropped and I was filled with a sense of injustice, like we all just got cheated. He was something that this world needed, and it all seems a little darker knowing that he isn’t back in Wisconsin raising a son and teaching sheltered college kids how ridiculous the world is that we’ve inherited.

Thank you so much to those of you who have shared your stories of Don. I have laughed out loud many times while reading, and I just happened to be in the middle of “The Hobbit” when I read on here that it was one of Don’s favorites as a child… I can see why, as Tolken injects so much wonder and untold history into the world that he describes.

My condolences to you all, especially Susan and Benjamin.

Sincerely,

Tyler Schuenemann

Remembering Don

2011-02-04T12:41:00.001-08:00

Don was a unique presence on this planet. I have never known anyone quite like him. On the day I learned he was gone, his booming voice reverberated in my head for a long time. I thought of all the funny and wise things he has said in the time I’ve known him. I thought of his unending curiosity, the vast range of his intellect, his passionate attachment to his beloved Susan and Benjamin, his loyalty to his friends, and his devotion to justice. I thought of his compelling teaching, to students, to area teachers, to the campus community, on all kinds of critical topics. Don was an accomplished person, an influential person, but he never conveyed self-importance. He was fundamentally egalitarian, humble, and a humanist through and through. He modeled for me and so many others a constant search for truth and justice, leavened by a fabulous ironic sense of humor. Sometimes edgy and always pitch perfect, Don’s humor was rooted in the tender-hearted idealism that went along with his brilliance.

The last time I saw Don was a few weeks ago, when I sat at his table for a Faculty Research roundtable. The group had a discussion prompt about the good of one’s research to society, or its commercial implications. Somehow I knew it would be interesting sitting with Don and Susan during this discussion. And sure enough, Don had the answer: he said he was considering inventing a surrealist breakfast cereal.

Though this is one of the few ideas that probably would never have gotten to the top of his to do list, there are so many gifts Don had left to give. My heart aches for the family that will miss him. And I am deeply saddened to contemplate what we all could yet have learned from Don, as his friends, colleagues, students, and fellow travelers. Still, it was a privilege to know him, and to know that he lived his 46 years so fully. His memory will be treasured.

Jodi Vandenberg-Daves

Various Names for Benjamin

2011-02-04T11:24:00.000-08:00

We were talking this morning about all the different names we've heard Don call Benjamin over the years. I remember "Benjabug," and then just "Bug," "Snigglefritz," and "Chauncy." Rachel remembers "Mr. Cummings." How about the rest of you? What B nicknames do you remember hearing Don use?

Virginia

Inspiring intellectual and a courageous professor

2011-02-04T11:22:00.002-08:00

What a great teacher he was. Once, as a student, I was walking in the halls and heard a great, booming voice coming from one of the classrooms. He sounded like a “big city” professor so I couldn't help myself and I stopped to listen. He was a courageous lecturer; not at all afraid to say what he wanted. Even those few minutes in the hall, I learned something pretty cool! I was determined then to take his classes, even though you had to get a paper signed by him in order to enroll. And so, I had the honour of taking two of his classes- European History and a Holocaust course. My grandma, being Jewish and spending the last 10 years of her life writing a book called Holocaust Mosaic (she was about 95 when it was finally published), made the Holocaust class very important to me. I shared my grandmother's book with Don and he helped my mother and me with some old material she had (which we ended up donating to the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC with his help).

He often said such risky things in class that I always sat in the front row because I never wanted to miss a minute. Once he said something like “You all know Christianity is the worlds most successful cult, right?” That was my favorite lecture and one I won't forget. I was writing Susan that I think it would take a lot of courage to say that to a packed classroom but Don said it with a nonchalance and coolness—it was no sweat of his back! I am so saddened that La Crosse is now without a man of his intellect and ideals. We need more people like him. He was way to young to leave this world and his beautiful partner and son. At the very end of January, I felt an overwhelming urge to write him an email. To catch up, to say hi. I really shouldn't have procrastinated that. It makes me want to live life to the fullest and embrace every opportunity! And not procrastinate catching up with wonderful, inspiring people.

Another memory came to mind of the art show he took part in and worked at in my families business- I believe he participated two years in a row. I was so proud to have him there that day in such a different kind of setting--outside of the classroom, surrounded by surrealist art. I remember he ordered coffee with about three extra shots of espresso, which impressed my brother! I introduced him to my mother that day too, brimming over with nervousness. I hope he enjoyed those days working in the art show, it was sure nice to have him there.

The first class we had together, I remember him being so funny. He said “You can call me Don. You can call me LaCoss. Just don't call me La Crosse”... what an awesome guy he was!

No more stories...

2011-02-04T10:56:00.000-08:00

Anyone who knows Don has a whole anthology of stories that no doubt make you smile when you remember them. We first met in 1979 in the 9th grade, so my anthology is pretty big.

I’m not ready to stop collecting those stories though…

For some reason the one story that has kept coming back to me in recent days took place month before he was leaving for grad school at Michigan (1992?, 93?).
I drove down from Boston one weekend in early August to his parent’s house in Wallingford to hang out for a couple of days. We were going to see a band in New Haven that night so we went down early to visit some record stores and the newly renovated Louis Kahn art gallery at Yale. We took his car.
His car at the time was an early 80's Buick that was light blue and rust colored. It was huge; he liked to brag about how the trunk could fit a standard 55 gallon oil drum AND a body. We tested it…it did with room to spare.
On the way down to New Haven, he was complaining about what a pain in the ass getting rid of the barge was going to be, and that it was a money pit and he couldn’t wait to get rid of it. It constantly leaked oil so he would put in the thickest oil available just to reduce the number of times he had to refill it.
We parked the car on a side street near York Square and walked around, got a bite to eat, then headed back to the car to go to the club. Gone. The car was stolen. On the one hand he was pissed that he wouldn’t have a car for the next 3 weeks. On the other hand, he was glad to be rid of it. On the third hand we were both totally confused as to why someone would steal THAT car. Of all the cars to choose from, why that shitbox?!!! We reported it stolen, had someone come get us, and watched the “Green Acres” marathon on Nick at Night.
Sunday morning the New Haven police called. The car was recovered with minimal damage. It looks like they tried to get into the trunk and failed (presumably looking to use that 55 gallon drum capacity). The ignition was messed up, they popped it and used a screwdriver to start it. I drove him down there, filled out the paperwork and he was about to start the car when he realized his key would not work and he didn’t have a screwdriver. Looking around he found a spoon in the back seat.
For the next 3 weeks he used that spoon to start his car, kept in the expansive ashtray. We tried other utensils - forks, butter knives, broken toast tongs, it was that spoon that had the right shape and strength. He ended up keeping the car and used it the next summer (his last summer at home I believe)

Don was my oldest and best friend, the best man at my wedding and guidepost for all things ironic. My thoughts and best wishes are with Susan and Benjamin.
TQ

New Order, "Love Vigilantes"

2011-02-04T09:49:00.000-08:00

Once, Don shared with me his nostalgic love of 80s music, when we both were kids. This song just comes to my mind now.

Love Vigilantes

irreplaceable

2011-02-04T08:42:00.000-08:00

I had the great opportunity of having LaCoss as my first professor in my first class my freshman year of college! I have never been too much into History, but even though the class was at 7:45 am(and I am definitely not a morning person), I didn't miss a single one! I admired his enthusiasm and his ability to teach the way he did. His lectures were like a continuous, interesting, insightful and entertaining story that you wanted to know more about and hold on to. I remember telling EVERYONE to make sure to get into his classes as he was absolutely amazing!I searched for History classes, with my only concern whether he was teaching. His sense of humor and his personality are hard to come by, and I have not met a single person on this campus that had anything but the best to say about LaCoss.
Although I did not know professor LaCoss for more than that one semester and the one class period he made it to this year, I know that many students, including myself, are missing out on a great semester with him.
He will be missed!

-Nikki

Wimberly Hall will not be the same

2011-02-04T07:43:00.000-08:00

Although I didn't see Don as much as I would have liked, it was always a comfort knowing that he was around to promote intelligent dialogue, particularly on topics that have a tendency to raise fear and misunderstanding. His intellect, humor, and compassion will be missed. -Donna Anderson

Memorial Celebration for Don

2011-02-04T07:24:00.000-08:00

The memorial celebration for Don will take place Sunday, Feb. 13 from 1-4 at the Myrick Hixon EcoCenter in La Crosse, WI. Please come and mingle with friends, family, students and colleagues. There will be food, live music, displays of photographs and of Don's and Benjamin's artwork and Don's writings, a snow-angel "Happening," and lots of other tributes to Don. Dress however you feel most comfortable (particularly if you want to join in the snow-angel making). Spread the word!

2011-02-04T05:44:00.000-08:00

Dr. LaCoss was one of THE BEST professors I had on campus at UW-L. I always felt welcomed in his classroom and my opinions were always respected. I was challenged and encouraged to address my stances on various topics. Donald has had a great impact on my college education and will be missed by the UW-L community.

Unicorns

2011-02-04T04:22:00.000-08:00

My first encounter with professor LaCoss was something that was destined from the star- as a history major, I studied with nearly every professor in the department. However, Don was one of my favorites. Perhaps it was because he reminded me of my high school teacher, perhaps it was his penchant for wearing shorts all winter, or perhaps it was his knack for timely irreverent comments. Whatever the reason, 8 years later I can still vividly remember sitting in his classroom. You never dared to take a nap because you never knew when something truly unique would fly out of his mouth. Thus, I leave you with one of my favorite all-time quotes: "Maybe in a magical world where unicorns s#!* fudge..." Maybe if that world existed, we wouldn't be having to say goodbye.

Farewell, Don LaCoss

2011-02-04T04:10:00.000-08:00

I never met Don in person. He contacted me about nine years ago after I'd written a piece for the surrealist issue of Fifth Estate. Due to his passion for the subject he sent enthusiastic greetings to our (now dissolved) surrealist group in Portland, OR. Over time we traded mail--he generously sent multiple copies of his pamphlets, collages and writings my way and I passed them out locally. He also communicated via email and joined my yahoogroup. In fact there is a post from him on that list from January 3oth. Don critiqued a comically banal and thankfully brief video made by a self-proclaimed poet who was little more than an advertising agent for capitalist values.

Some of Don's writings on Arab Surrealism can be found in issue 22 (Fall-Winter 2010-2011) of the magazine Communicating Vessels. It's available for a donation or postage stamps, from PO Box 83408, Portland, Oregon, 97283 if you want to check it out.

I mourn Don's passing and will continue to celebrate his life and achievements. My condolences to his family members and closer friends. May his intelligent, creative enthusiasm become more contagious.

Shibek

remembering don

2011-02-03T22:03:00.001-08:00

remembering don

last night as i was about to go to sleep

i heard the drum ‘n bass dub echoes

of your contagious laughter

saw flashing images of those rare yet precious visits

when we hung out together

always a pleasure

listening to your stories

tossing intellectual absurdities

flipping historical inaccuracies

while imagining surreal possibilities

like a juggler

who playfully

shifts the rhythm

but never loses a beat

you were unique

and oh yeah

you were sweet alright

full of kindness and integrity

and though the tears flow

i know

today you were on the dancefloor

with me

smiling approvingly

as i sent you off

inna rub-a-dub stylee…

and i’ll carry on the rebellion

to the best of my ability

nourished from the gift

of your friendship

and creativity

sheila nopper

We call it Voight-Kampff for short.

2011-02-03T21:59:00.000-08:00

Typically I shy away from participating in such public channels of emotional discussion, but I felt Don would've personally gotten a kick out of a digital memorial.

Anyways I was originally a student of his. A youth that was almost kicked out on academic probation two semesters in a row (it turned out that calculus and computer programming was not for me), whom discovered history as a fulfilling opportunity to surviving college. Then after several classes and the many, many hours chatting with him in his office about kung-fu films, art, politics, and whatever shit he happened to have found on the internet that day, I eventually was promoted to being one of his "kids."

It was always a personal honor to be one of his "kids," especially with all his chatter about how him and Susan always each had their own 'kids,' and didn't like sharing them with each other (of course that was never really true).

Don was a testament to the subtle intellectual. He was one of my core role models for continuing academia (and discovering the fun within it), and was one of the greatest reasons I never regretted going to UWL. Unlike others he advocated for me to take time off between degrees to find myself and maintain my sanity in grad school. He was right of course.

I loved the fact that his door was always open, that he openly complained about the lighting (thus he had his dim lamp), and his battles with tech support over his shitty computer. I was around when he broke his leg (I still remember that he would be wearing shorts all year round while waiting for the bus), and when he started posting agitational anti-clown propaganda on the vending machines in North Hall when the yearly clown college happened over the summer (he was very coulrophobic).

In the end words do very little to fill the loss I felt from losing a mentor and a friend in the same day so to celebrate Don and I's mutual love of the film Blade Runner I felt it would be appropriate to end with a quote from it:

"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate.
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."

/Sean R

Don

2011-02-03T20:40:00.001-08:00

I'm still reeling from the news of Don's abrupt departure. As we all know, he was no dim bulb. Yet unlike other intellectually brilliant, playfully creative and deliciously sharpwitted people that I have known over the years, Don had an extraordinary personal sensitivity that was at once attractive and inspiring. The minute that I met him ,it was love at first sight and I knew that he would be a friend of mine for life. I just thought that his life would be longer than it turned out to be...

Below is a brief send-off piece that I wrote for him at the request of Fifth Estate soon after I heard that he had shuffled off this mortal coil.

One of Don's last research projects was on the history of Egyptian surrealism, so it is fitting that his death was poetically heralded by a popular insurrection in the streets of Cairo. As the founding manifesto of the 1973 Arab Surrealist Movement in Exile exclaimed as if in anticipation of the possibilities opened up by recent events in Tunisia and Egypt: "We call upon individuals and the masses to unleash their instincts against all forms of repression, including the repressive 'reason' of the bourgeois order. We poison the intellectual atmosphere with the elixir of the imagination, so that the poet will realize himself in realizing the historical transformation of poetry. We liberate language from the prisons and stockmarkets of capitalist confusion." Correspondingly, for Don, poetry and revolution were always hovering in the air like ripe fruits waiting to be plucked by those dubwise enough to get the joke. Like the "honesty" of Guy Fawkes, who was executed on Jan 31, 1606 for his part in the Gunpowder Plot on the British parliament, the incendiary black humor of Don Lacoss, who died on the same day 405 years later, was, in the words of André Breton, like "a spark in search of a powder keg."

Ron Sakolsky Feb 2, 2011

Halloween

2011-02-03T20:14:00.000-08:00

On Halloween afternoon, 1996 (perhaps 1997?) in Ann Arbor, we decided--just hours before sunset--to get our Ann Arbor apartment (and ourselves) ready for the neighborhood kids. We quickly carved several pumpkins and threw together costumes. I decided to go with "pirate," and fashioned an oversized black cardboard hat with a skull and crossbones on one side and a big, yellow, 70's-style happy face on the other.

Don came by that evening, once the holiday was in full swing, the kids were out, and we were doing some goofy street theater for them (asking kids to be polite, to walk the plank, etc.) Don watched me for a couple of minutes, approached me very quietly, and asked: "Who are you, Captain Manners?" Yes, I was Captain Manners. It seemed so obvious, now that Don had named the guy.

Thanks to Don, to his gift for recognizing and naming things, the character stuck, and I've been dressing up for Halloween, for 13+ years now, as Captain Manners. I regularly find myself explaining to people how he got his name. I'll continue to tell that story, and to talk about Don, every October.

Peace to his family, and to everyone dealing with the loss.

David

2011-02-03T19:23:00.000-08:00

Labor Day Party, 2006?

Don's Office

2011-02-03T19:11:00.000-08:00

I remember many visits to Don's office, always looking for a sarcastic and bitter release from the day-in and day-out at UW-L. Don was such a balanced presence, angry and sweet. He kept me going with his dedication to dissent and direct thinking. I remember walking down that long, boring history hall, anticipating his open door and booming voice, an oasis of energy for a dreary day.

I'm Kirk Douglas' son

2011-02-03T18:14:00.000-08:00

Tonight I showed my world history class the famous "I'm Spartacus" scene from the Kirk Douglas, Stanley Kubrick film. I started to laugh because I remembered what Don called an apocryphal story that he told me (Gerry) and John:

Kirk Douglas' other son (not Michael) was trying to be a standup comic, but he was really bad at it. (John said, "Shecky Douglas"?) So he was getting heckled, and he said, "you can't do this to me; I'm Kirk Douglas' son." Then somebody in the audience stood up and said, "I'm Kirk Douglas' son," and then somebody else said, "I'm Kirk Douglas' son," and so on.....

After showing the clip, laughing, and getting a bit choked up at the same time, I told my class the story (they had already heard about Don's passing), and they laughed.

I like to think a little part of Don lived on in that laughter....

2011-02-03T16:45:00.001-08:00

Can anybody tell me what his tattoo was of?
I always noticed it in class, but I never asked.
I should have.

Lost in thought

2011-02-03T14:57:00.000-08:00

This is my favorite.

Much love old, sweet friend.

Maud

Union Rationaliste

2011-02-03T14:55:00.001-08:00

This was Don's favorite of the pictures we took during that trip. I've had it on my bulletin board overlooking my desk ever since.

At the Picasso Museum

2011-02-03T14:54:00.000-08:00

Don in Paris

2011-02-03T14:52:00.000-08:00

Don visited me in Paris while I was doing my dissertation research many years ago. Here he is standing in front of the French National Archives for the first time.

A great teacher.

2011-02-03T14:25:00.000-08:00

Don's first assignment to me (well, all of us in that History of Russia class) was to "get my shit together." And then he left the room. I turned to a friend in the classroom and remarked that it would be an interesting semester.

And it WAS. I had Don as a professor for multiple classes because he was, simply put, an outstanding teacher. I learned from him theories and perspectives and creative curse-word combinations that I had never heard before -- I couldn't get enough. His classes had this creative, witty, stream-of-consciousness that often left him wondering aloud, "how did I get on THAT?" but serious students craving more -- we knew we were in the presence of a great mind.

His death is a loss for the university and a travesty for the educational community. I ask my fellow future teachers to honor the man by passing on what Don taught us in our classrooms.

-- Jacob

Don LaCoss, a Marvel & Marvelous

2011-02-03T10:59:00.000-08:00

I’m having trouble thinking anything coherent about this tragedy.

But, I suppose since we both loved surrealism in quite different ways, so free association is fair...

Women he loved: Pj Harvey, Tilda Swinton, Susan and I’m sure many ‘30’s film stars (…but, Susan will know which ones…) and numerous dear female friends.....there was something special about him, well, so many special things, but he had a quality that made him a very good friend to women....

Things he really liked: Brownies, smelling my single malt whisky glass, Paris, conversation, Indian food, old films, Egyptian surrealism, many different types of music, kitch but in a specific way, not like many people, Anarchism, the idea of various pagan rituals...

Images of him:

He was lying on a manicured lawn in the sunshine, at Vassar, I think, early 1990s, the Berkshires Women’s History Conference, …my first meeting of him, possibly or one of the first….he was charismatic, clearly quick as a whip, dry and very, very funny. I think he expressed appreciation of how hot my (female/adrogenous) ex was, who I was there with just to break my heart some more, I seem to recall. He would have got that whole scenario right away….in a way that almost no one else could ever comprehend.

Him in red and blue and sometimes stripy long sleeve tee shirts worn over each other in layers in Ann Arbor winter, because his skin was too sensitive for wool.

Dancing very happily at the party that Adam and I threw ourselves in Cambridge UK in July, 1996 for getting hitched.

Other vague Don memories:

We both had an appreciation for the Middle East restaurant and that arts cinema near Harvard, even though we never lived there at the same time….

He somehow always remembered that I once told him that my mother used to let me get out of school slightly early the two weeks a year when the local Dallas/Ft Worth channel had 'Doris Day' week or 'Shirley Temple' week...I have a series of emails in my inbox from him subject line: 'A Touch of Mink'...I never admitted to him that that's one I've not seen and my personal favorite is the damn unimpressive 'Glass Bottom Boat'!

He told me in another email in August 2008 in relation to our imminent move to his hometown that he had been called the Lion at some bar in New Haven in his youth because he had a line about needing ‘Courage’ --the beer, when he ordered.....I can just picture a 21 year old Don, imitating the Cowardly Lion repeatedly on a dive bar stool, can't you?!

He told me a story in person about how very worried he was at age 5 when he lost his family’s only umbrella…He told me this story, I think because it was presumably about class…(and my class background is pretty indeterminate, but middle and upper don’t really play a part straightforwardly, let’s say…) and perhaps also a bit about guilt. But, when I think about this story now, I think about what it really said, which was how incredibly sensitive he was to all sorts of things..in a way that often clearly left him too raw, too exposed, too sad, sometimes enraged. This, of course, extended to all levels of injustice and informed his politics and his Politics and the way he lived always.

He told me he used to get in trouble for reading at home, under the covers with a flashlight. He was clearly fiercely bright and continuously curious from a very young age.

He swore he had an uncle who pulled his own teeth, with the help of pliers and a bottle of cheap whiskey.

And, although I never really got to see him in action in this major, starring role, Don was clearly an extraordinary Dad. He wrote me this in December, 2009:

“[Benjamin’s] school had this odd, vaguely pagan & germanic "winter garden"

assembly yesterday for the kids involving lighting candles in a

darkened room to celebrate the season. benjamin was totally into it.

he's also fascinated with santa claus & the elves... it's hard for me

to participate in the Big Lie & all the gross materialist

merchandising that comes along with it, but i like how -- in some

small way -- it re-enchants the world... makes it more magical on

some level. benjamin has all these questions about santa & the elves

& the flying reindeer, but i keep shrugging and saying things like:

"i don't know, benjamin... it's all very mysterious to me. how do you

think it works?" it's marvelous in that original, surrealist sense of

the word: "full of marvels."”

Both Marvelous and a Marvel, that sums up the man, we all loved and will miss so very much!

–Becky Conekin

Lover of Dalmatians and the Rest of Us

2011-02-03T10:12:00.000-08:00

I met Don in Paris in 1995, where a group of us were doing our dissertation research. At the time I had an adorable and unruly Dalmatian named Jesse who came to love Don as much as he loved me, his owner. Maybe more. When Jesse shredded dozens of photocopies that I had made in the archives – and then urinated on them for good measure – he ran right to Don and licked his face. When Jesse romped in the mud in a park by the Seine, Don lifted him into the bathtub and spoke softly to him, soothing his fears about his impending bath. When Jesse got sick in Paris, Don helped me bring him back and forth to the veterinarian’s offices; sometimes I could not afford a cab and the three of us would sneak onto the metro. Jesse’s health continued to deteriorate as the year went on. Sometimes Don had to carry him down the stairs. Other times Jesse was lively again, and he and Don took long walks through the streets of Paris by themselves, with Don patiently removing the paper from Jesse’s mouth that he so loved to eat off the street.

All of us graduate students left Paris early that summer and returned to our respective homes in the States. By August Jesse had died. Don was the first person I called. I told Don, don’t worry, Jesse lived well and his heart was so big. Just like Don. There are so many things I could write here, because Don’s curiosity, mischievous spirit, and irreverence were infectious, encouraging us all to live and love more boldly: he was there when I got my nose pierced; he was the first person to whom I showed any of my dissertation writing; he let me cut his hair even though I was terrible at it, because I had always dreamed of being a stylist.

And Don was never anything but kind. My love to him and all that knew him; may we all support one another.

Elisa

First time I met Don

2011-02-03T09:38:00.000-08:00

I'll never forget when I first saw Don--he was the first person I met from UW-L. I had just gotten off the plane from the Twin Cities after coming from San Diego. It was very cold. As far as I know, nobody told me somebody was going to pick me up. On arrival I walked outside the terminal, wondering if there would be taxis there (there weren't) and wondering if indeed somebody from the university was there for me. But as I walked out, there was this big guy (Don) in shorts and a ski cap coming in. I remember thinking, "who the hell is that"? We were probably both looking for somebody who looked professorial. I think we both had our expectations unmet. But eventually his looking for somebody demeanor and my I don't know what to do demeanor brought us together. During the ride to the hotel we discussed Japanese horror films.

I can't believe he is gone. I will miss his iconoclastic humor, fearlessness, and complete honesty. I regret that I did not spend more time with him. I will never forget the time when we shared an "old school" breakfast in downtown La Crosse. I will never forget our conversations regarding pedagogy, music, art, culture, monstrosity, "theory," etc.

My heart goes out to Susan and Benjamin. I know there is no easy way to deal with such a horrible and unexpected loss.

Last email exchange with Don:

Don:

i know that you got this on one of your midterms... well, if it's any consolation, you're not the only one whose soul is being prayed for by his students... this is from the last page of a HIS 101 final that i just graded:

"i appreciate your perspective, but most of all i appreciate your challenging me to REALLY KNOW what i believe. GOD pursues everyone in some way. one day you will know Him as i do."

Me:

When you get to know HIM as your student does, say hi for me....

Don:

i would love to write back on the exam: "godlessness pursues everyone in some way. one day you will know godlessness as i do." either that or: "my people have always killed missionaries."

running into Don.....

2011-02-03T08:20:00.000-08:00

....was like the recurring scene in "Get Smart" where Max would find one of his fellow secret agents embedded in a tree or a piece of machinery, just waiting and watching, and the two agents would start a deadpan conversation as if there nothing was out of the ordinary, usually trading absurd observations about the universe, gossip about other agents, complaints about Control, and then crucially important information about an ongoing case.

I'm not sure in this scenario if Don was Max or the embedded agent. I suppose we traded roles.

How I loved running into him. And the ridiculously long, generous conversations, standing always in the wrong place. I blame Don for setting back the completion of my dissertation at least 1 month (or maybe it was a year....or two). I'm not sure that we ever met by appointment even once. It was always in the fishbowl, the history grad lounge, espresso royale, a random spot on W. Liberty where one of us was trudging west and one of us east, the halls of some gawdaful hotel at a conference somewhere.

It will be hard to get over the sense that I will run into him eventually.

My condolences to everyone touched by him over the years.

- Warren

Even from the hallway on the other side of the building...

2011-02-03T08:03:00.000-08:00

The English department’s banned book reading was only the second time I had met Don, but I will never read Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you See? the same way again, thanks to Don and his side-splitting political wit.

When I stepped into the room to give my pitch for a faculty research grant this fall, I remember looking out at Don, who kindly kept nodding and radiating enthusiasm, curiosity, and support—the genuine stuff. As he told me later, he really liked working for that committee (despite the huge time commitment) because he “truly enjoyed being surrounded by people who gave off a dizzying array of energy” and “fed his dilettante interests” with “new cocktail party conversation” (as if, he qualified, he would ever be invited to a cocktail party) about “bioluminescent algae, lead-testing in the marsh, sleeping-sickness in Tanzania, Nahuatl translation & orthography, and dissolved organic carbon.” Don’s intellectual passion was electrifying.

I was excited that we were talking about getting coffee together to discuss our mutual interest in “-isms,” especially after hearing his presentation on international surrealism a couple weeks ago. I deeply miss not having an opportunity to develop a friendship with Don. I will hope for a coffee conversation on the radical flip-side. For now, I just wish I could thank you, Don, for sharing your humor and generosity even with those of us who just grazed your path. It was truly an honor to have met you. It only takes a few times to really know, from somewhere in your instinctive core, that you have just met a truly astounding human being. My deepest sympathy goes out to Susan, Benjamin, and all those who knew him well.

Kelly Sultzbach

Don was a dear friend and GREAT Dada

2011-02-02T20:13:00.000-08:00

I first met Don 4 years ago when my daughter, Laura, was just a few weeks old. My son and Benjamin became friends at once over a train track. As the boys played, Don was drawn to Laura and cooed and fussed over her, soon giving her the nickname Laurita, which was repeated every time he saw her. I saw from that day forward what a devoted father he was to Benjamin. They were a team, and we spent many play dates at both Family Resources and in local parks throughout the city these past 4 years and I will always treasure the intellectual, deep adult conversations that took place on those days.

I can't recall when I found out that Don, like me, was from CT, but I'll never forget how that bonded us in the Midwest. Also being from CT, Don and I connected over conversations about bagels. He told me that the Co-op had the only "good" bagels in town, but they were refrigerated not fresh and he was disappointed they didn't carry poppyseed. We once had a conversation about quality chocolate, as he shared with me that he once lived a stint in Paris (I think). The next day he showed up at my house with a taste test of chocolate bars, Green & Black won. That was the thing about Don, he would bring up things like living in Europe in such a way that the newfound information fit into the conversation so smoothly that he kept the focus on you and not on what he just shared. He always made me feel respected and wise, because that's what he was, a person who gave his undivided attention and patience to whoever he was talking with. When I started grad school he encouraged me right up until the end, at my graduation party this past Saturday. He prided me on having a party, saying we, as people put too much focus on our failures and not enough on our successes.

Don was a man of great words and I share his own with you all...

After Alma's (Benjamin's principal) sudden death this past October Don shared these words in an email to me.

"...can't stand the fact that someone so good died so suddenly when there are so many other selfish, vicious, abusive, loathsome people who will live to see another day. the cosmic injustice of it all infuriates me. there are so very few good people in the world and we need them all desperately, especially those good people who go on to do such good things for so many others. ...*sob*... "

Don, my friend I couldn't have said it any better about YOU.

Much love,
Daria, Bill, Cole and Laurita

One of many fun and wonderful pix of Don

2011-02-02T18:58:00.000-08:00

Here's the family at our house (Dennis and Virginia's) for Halloween 09.

Words from one of Don's students...

2011-02-02T16:06:00.000-08:00

As one of Don's students at UW-L, I feel honored to have known him as my professor and my friend. Don was my first professor at school and as a student who's been out of high school for some time, college was quite intimidating--until I met Don. I will never forget my first day at UW-L... In History 101, I was scared of the atmosphere--the desks, the time of day, the age of my classmates, even the desks... But something struck me as being odd when a few minutes after class was supposed to start the professor was wheeled into the classroom with the assistance of another student. He did not fit the description of a typical history professor (which I consider one being quite aged and wearing a tweed jacket, bow tie and smoking a tobacco pipe). Instead, he was a very humorous and very outgoing in his teaching and made all of the assignments/readings/lectures relevant to world events. Today, I am saddened by Don's passing. But I was blessed to have had him for seven more courses including my History Research Seminar which is the undergraduate capstone course. Of all the teachers that I have ever had (Kindergarten through college), Don LaCoss remains perhaps the best because he took the time to make learning and analyzing material a fun challenge. He also took time out to help me write papers to perfection, even though it may have been just fine. Don challenged me to do my best and even though I am not an honor student, he always treated me like one. My most sincere condolences go out to Susan, Benjamin and to all of Don's colleagues.

**Don, as your friend I will always appreciate your support and your encouragement. Be well. Thank you for being such a great teacher. Thank you for all of your inspirations.**

Darren Kinder, HIS major, UW-L

In the hallway

2011-02-02T12:26:00.000-08:00

As a new faculty member in the History department, I have the less desirable office space, a dark, window-less cave. Don, on the other hand, had the bright office with the window and a green neon sign, “Aquatics.” While seemingly different, our offices share one common feature. As Don would say, we were both in “Kashmir,” referring to the disputed territory bordered by India and Pakistan. It was his way of referring to the location of our offices. Our hallway has both History and Economics faculty offices; Don and I were on the fringe of the History department, yet next-door to the Economics department. The mention of Kashmir as well as the print of goddess Durga in his office and our brief discussion of Bollywood signaled that Don was interested in South Asian contemporary politics, mythologies, and popular culture. He even encouraged UW-L and the History department to offer a South Asia History position. I first met Don when I interviewed for that job at the AHA meeting last January. I was taken by our shared interests in art history and our use of visual culture in our research. Most of all, I was intrigued by his warmth, humor, and a humility that masked great brilliance.

Although we were neighbors in our History department, I regret missing the opportunity to know Don even better. Last semester, I was busy settling into my new job in Wisconsin. But I am thankful that even in my short time here, I am all the more blessed just by crossing paths with Don, both in the hallway and in life.

---Gita V. Pai, History Department, UW-L

Don LaCoss, surrealist thinker and guy extraordinaire~

2011-02-02T07:50:00.000-08:00

I remember Don's Lenin pen, his sardonic wit, his queries about scale theory and intrapolitics, his intense interest in French surrealism yet his overt disdain for francophilia, and his intriguing description of Hélène Vanel's frenetic dance for the opening night of the Exposition Internationale du Surréalisme on January 17, 1928:

"With her long, thick brown hair loose and her glazed eyes bulging, she gestured wildly with jerky stop-action motions and posed in exaggerated contortions before bouncing up off of the dirt floor onto one of the beds, all the while howling and grunting. Vanel furiously writhed on the sheets, gnashing her teeth and gibbering as she tore at her already ragged costume. With her torso exposed, she twitched, twisted, shouted and rolled off of the bed and plowed into the mud and decaying vegetation covering the gallery floor. By the end of the performance, her breath sawing in and out of her lungs as she lurched, Vanel splashed her way through the reeds and cattails of the swamp to disappear again into the darkness, splattering and soaking the dumbfounded spectators."
(Don LaCoss, "Hysterical Freedom: Surrealist Dance & Hélène Vanel’s Faulty Functions
Women & Performance June 2005, special issue on "Performing Excess")

Rest in peace, Don.

2011-02-02T06:46:00.000-08:00

I have a brief note to show Don's soft side. My youngest son is named Benjamin. So, when he knew that he was having a boy, he asked me if it was ok to name his son Benjamin (as if there would be too many in the History dept.!). I said it was a great name. More importantly, it showed a sensitive side of him. He obviously was concerned about how I would feel about it. Don was a big teddy bear and he will be missed!

Mark Chavalas, History, UW-L

Memories of Don

2011-02-02T00:29:00.000-08:00

I didn't know Don nearly as well as my wife, Carolyn Comiskey, but I loved him for his devastatingly funny wit - he would throw away with such seeming casualness - and for his generous intelligence. I remember one evening sitting near Don in the Fishbowl at U of Michigan, and while we were both waiting for our work to print out, he managed to explain the origins of Surrealism in a brilliant 5 minute nugget. I've never forgotten it.

He was also the only person, including me, who could regularly inspire belly laughs in Carolyn; I've only been able to get smiles and chuckles (she's a tough audience, humorwise). After I first met Carolyn at a party, Don was the one who gave me the correct spelling of her name the next day (it wasn't Kaminsky, as I thought it was) so I could call her up for a date. I can't believe he's gone - we both miss him so much.

-Lee Behlman

Loving Brother

2011-02-01T20:09:00.000-08:00

We have so many memories to share about Don. He was a very smart, funny, and intelligent man. Don loved to read as a kid. Boy did his reading pay off! He attended Wesleyan College and The University of Michigan on full scholarship. While Don's brother was out playing war and trapping animals, Don preferred to spend time reading his favorite reading series as a child, The Narnia series. Although, his brother remembers him loving, "The Hobbit" the most. His brother had Dyslexia and had difficulty reading so he lived vicariously through Don. Dave is a walking encyclopedia because of his brother. They had such a close, loving relationship that only people dream of having. Although distance kept them apart for the last 15 years, there love and friendship towards each other was one that all would envy. This past summer we got together for a few days and the cousins were able to play with one another and of course the brothers got some time to hang out. We had some very special memories. We are so happy and grateful that Benjamin is loved and looked up to by his younger cousins Chloe and Bryce. They worship him and think he is the greatest. Benjamin has such a talent for drawing and is appreciated by his two cousins. He drew a picture of a castle that Chloe and Bryce still talk about. Benjamin knows Chloe loves parrots, and the heart of gold that he has, he sends her pictures of parrots. We know that Don's memories will be kept alive by all. We will miss you and love you forever. Your voice will always be heard. You will always be in our hearts.

Love, Jen LaCoss

Sister in law of Don

Donald Wendell LaCoss

2011-02-01T17:23:00.000-08:00

Cherished father, partner, son, cousin, nephew, friend, teacher, and comrade in surrealist exuberance Donald Wendell LaCoss passed away on January 31, 2011. He is deeply missed by many people, and we invite you all to post your memories and thoughts here.