Jake

By Ruth McEachen

Every year, as I face a new group of fifth grade students and ask them to correct my pronunciation of their names and to identify their location in the room with a raised hand and a spoken "Here", I half-expect one or two kids to respond with "Present". Two years ago, I'm not positive that Jake responded with a "Present", but I am sure he could have. He was among the most "present" individuals I've ever known, in his own life, and others' lives, engaged and engaging.

Jake helped make every day, every minute more interesting, more vibrant. You might expect a bright child to eagerly acquire bits of information, but he gathered them around himself like Lego blocks, almost instantly rearranging them into unusual configurations. He examined the foundation of an idea, then leapt to the implications. A common and urgent question of his was, "But, wait! Does that mean....?" He had left the tangible and risen to the imagined. His imagination embraced virtually every subject: literature, science, math, history, the social sciences. He had a fascination with human behavior, and a profound understanding of culture. In sixth grade, he mixed facts with fantasy to create imaginary civilizations. He loved the idea that humans share DNA with a banana,that you can hold the world in your hand with a Periodic Table, or that a map can introduce you to new worlds. He was a virtual sponge at science camp on Catalina Island, at home with the ocean and its inhabitants, absorbing everything and amazing the counselors with his knowledge and enthusiasm.

Jake loved words, their derivations, their complexities, even their spellings. The more esoteric, the better. Whenever it pleased him, he made up his own.He tossed them together with abandon, effortlessly, and his meaning was clear. At one time, he told me he intended to become a "world-renowned author" and I suggested he begin a collection of characters, settings, and plots that he found interesting. Little did I know that he had already filled piles of notebooks with descriptions and drawings, notes and ideas. "One Canopic jar has (an) Ankh shaped key that unlocks the secret chamber" and "The ocean leviathan stealthily stalked its prey."

Jake's intelligence was always tempered with wit. His humor was ever present, like a bow about to let go, without injury, just powerful. He was kind and generous to everyone, regardless of age or appeal. He would team with anyone, dance with anyone, help anyone, leaving them all feeling accepted and appreciated. Many of us were lucky enough to witness his very special connection with James Sweeney, his best friend. At the end of the first day of school in fifth grade, I said my usual, "Be sure you have what you need, and have a great evening", and James and Jake stood up, said, "Thank you, Mrs. McEachen," and clapped. Do you believe that? They clapped! Within days, they had the entire class clapping, for the remainder of the year. They were true "laughing partners", as the Eskimo’s say, and leaders.

    Recently, through the generosity of Jake's mom, Karen, I was able to spend some time in his bedroom. A big, broad study table, piled with books and notebooks, school tools, smiling pictures, drawings, a huge box of Legos in the corner, some sports equipment, bunk beds, and crates of notebooks filled with drawings and writings that spilled so easily from him. In physics, a reflection is the return of light, heat, and sound after striking a surface. His room, for me, was the surface reflecting Jake's spirit

His little body had a concentration of spirit, in every sense. A truly generous spirit, leaving a little or a lot with every person he contacted. An urgent spirit, in a hurry to understand more, have more fun, fill his time well. Jake lived his life as a pure reflection of the love of his wonderful family and friends,knowing, somehow, "This is the best it gets."