On the same topic of dreams, I distinctly recall Austin telling me how he used to invariably drool while sleeping but that he had recently stopped, a fact which greatly pleased him. Now whenever I awaken, mouth wet with drool, I invariably think of Austin. I'm quite happy that I have not yet lost this capacity for sleep-slobbering, for it's another thing I link with Austin (though I'm not sure how he would take this connection).
Austin once talked to me about dreams- he said that he especially loved having flying dreams. In his description of his most recent one, he said that it was like his gravity had been altered, and with every giant step that he took he soared above the Earth to happily observe the broader landscape. Another time when were walking through the MSI's aviation exhibit we agreed that it would be far better to live small but invest in an airplane, to actually be able to fly over the Earth. I see Austin, flying now, soaring somewhere, still exploring.
On the same topic of dreams, I distinctly recall Austin telling me how he used to invariably drool while sleeping but that he had recently stopped, a fact which greatly pleased him. Now whenever I awaken, mouth wet with drool, I invariably think of Austin. I'm quite happy that I have not yet lost this capacity for sleep-slobbering, for it's another thing I link with Austin (though I'm not sure how he would take this connection).
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As many know, Austin enjoyed walking. And yet it was still a surprise to me when my innocuous query of "how was your Friday" was met with the following email response: "I walked to Evanston... with detours... from Hyde Park. I'm pretty sore, as you might guess! It was beautiful, though. A clear and warm night - what more could you ask for?" Though I did a double-take upon reading 'to Evanston' I did not doubt for an instant that Austin had inadvertently ended up walking into Evanston on a nighttime ramble. http://tinyurl.com/lv8tmej (ed: make sure to zoom out to see the whole route) is the route he remembers taking-- detours indeed, loops to different beaches and outlets with a good view of the lake and evening sky. What more can you ask for- Austin was so happy and content. Knowing this makes me happy. ...And then, after having walked for 7 hours from 5pm to 2am, "And when I took the CTA back, the guy sitting next to me became convinced that I was an undercover FBI operative". That cracks me up every time. Oh, Austin. Just finished drafting a eulogy for my cousin. From a friend at the University of Chicago: “It's clear that Austin was just the sort of person and student one hopes one's children will be: he loved to learn for the sake of it, in his major or not; he embraced every opportunity for living—baseball to opera, classroom to hiking—for the joy of it. He wasn't punching in his resume lines. He lived.”
Austin, I'd be surprised if you knew me. It pains me that I never got to meet you, even though we had mutual friends. And it baffles me that we may have been in the same building, perhaps even walked past one another, yet I would never have greeted you because I did not know who you were.
Yet in the last few weeks, that's all changed. In hearing how much people have loved you--as a friend, as a son, as a student--I have begun to love you too. That's the beauty of your life; you have changed those around you, and thus, everyone who has heard their stories. When I think of our mutual friends that I met only recently, I wonder how different they would have been if they hadn't known you. Life reminds us that every interaction, every experience, shapes us. And so, I wonder with curiosity and amazement, how much of my life was indirectly influenced by your presence in the lives of my closest friends. Even now, you continue to make an impact. You have reminded us all that each life is so valuable, so precious. And you have reminded me that the effort put into maintaining friendships, particularly at a university that can be quite isolating, is never a waste. Thank you for teaching me through those lives you have changed. And thank you, to Austin's family, for providing us this space and thereby giving us the privilege of hearing these stories. Austin and I once took a biking adventure to Cafecito, a Cuban Cafe in Chicago. After 20 minutes of biking, Austin, unused to biking and certainly not fond of biking in a boring straight line for more than necessary, suggested that we stop at a grassy enclosure near the firefighter memorial on Lake Shore path. Austin didn't bring any food, insisting he wouldn't need any. However, as I happily bit into my crunchy apple, he soon joined in, as I had brought extras. Funnily enough, once we got to the restaurant, a 7 mile ride, he insisted that he wasn't hungry and just wanted to try the Cuban espresso. This was perplexing to me, considering both the bike ride and the fact that Austin did not drink coffee. At any rate, we ordered two espressos and I also got some eggplant sandwhich called "El Jardin". Austin speedily rectified my butchering of the Spanish language ("It's Harrrrdin, not JARdin"). As I began to gratefully dig into the delicious sandwhich, Austin began to eye it. And of course, we ended up splitting it, half and half. Not hungry my @$$. The biking trip was more fun than normal thanks to Austin's meandering route choices and his invariably happy company, even if I was still hungry upon leaving Cafecito.
Austin was a brilliant student in my Systems Biology class. We met on Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays in the small north conference room on the tenth floor of the Knapp Center for Biomedical Discovery. Our views out the glass walls to the north and east were always spectacular: the city of Chicago, shiny bright in the sun and Lake Michigan ever changing in its colorful hues. There were striking varieties of dark blue, grey, and green colorations, dark shading highlights, and structural textures. Associated with these physical vagaries about our surroundings were weather fluctuations we liked to monitor as we talked about science. Sometimes outside it was very still. Other times, the vistas were stormy, especially over the Lake. I think Austin enjoyed these views. I know I did. They stimulated us to think deeper about the mechanisms of life. And indeed they helped us form a more perfect learning community as a result. We enjoyed each other’s company and engaged in productive discussions about the lectures we heard and the papers we read. There was encouragement to foster insights about the subtleties of biology and how to model its complexities. Austin was always eager to participate in these considerations. He will be sorely missed. Austin was thoughtful, affable, and a pleasure to get to know. My condolences go out to his family, friends, and colleagues near and far.
I was Austin's teacher this spring as part of a systems biology course that he was taking at University of Chicago. Austin was delightful to have as a student - sweet, inquisitive, intelligent, and thoughtful. He confessed to being a player of a large online game called Foldit, which works towards understanding one of the hardest unsolved problems in molecular biology - how protein polymers fold into three-dimensional shapes. I assume then that Austin is one of the 57,000 co-authors in a 2010 article in Nature that reported on the game. Austin was a memorable person, and I am very sorry for his loss.
I would like to express what a smart, motivated, and kind young man he was, and that his absence is a terrible loss. And of course our deepest condolences to his family and friends.
I taught a week's worth of lectures of a Systems Biology course that Austin was taking this Spring. Although this gave me relatively few chances to interact with him, he made a huge impression on me. The class size was very small, and Austin seemed to act as a kind of glue during the discussions: when one person was confused, he often seemed to understand both the material itself and where the confusion was coming from. Austin would often produce an insightful comment at these points that would move the class forward. He was a brilliant student with a real enthusiasm for learning who will be missed.
I didn't know Austin well, but he was in all the chemistry classes I've taken at UChicago. I do know that he's brilliant. And always so nice and polite. And interested and happy and positive. His death is so wrong and unfair. He is so deserving of life and would have gone on to do incredible things. He is missed and will continue to be for a very, very long time. Though I did not know Austin well, he made an impression on me as he did on so many who encountered him. I send my sincerest condolences to his family and friends.
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AuthorCollecting stories so that everyone can see who Austin Hudson-Lapore was to each of us. Archives
June 2016
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