It is one of the first beautiful fall days in Chicago. I can still hear the cicadas’ song which is becoming noticeably weaker each day. I hear the leaves scattering across the sidewalks with the wind. Summer has ended in Chicago. And I still find myself reflecting on the death of a young man who died in Chicago at the beginning of this summer, and of his family.

In Chicago, we are pummeled in the news daily with yet another tragic death of a young person, often by gunfire. Then there are the equally numerous, painful losses due to car accidents and drownings. It seemed there were a lot of deaths of young people in Lake Michigan this summer. These daily and wrenching accounts of young lives cut short become numbing. We read these stories and perhaps send up silent prayers for the families. Most of us then move on to the next news story and on with our lives. The toll of these daily losses forces us to become almost immune to the sadness of so many young deaths.

I did not know Austin. I do not know his family. Yet the news of his heartbreaking death saddened me deeply.

Austin’s story struck a personal chord with me. The picture of his beaming face at White Sox Park alongside his dad reminded me so much of a family member who similarly is always completely immersed in the joy of the moment no matter what he is doing, with a radiant smile to match. Austin’s boyish face and smile could easily have belonged to someone I knew and loved.

I also could relate to the stories of Austin’s fascination with weather. I have a son who also preferred watching the Weather Channel when he was a little boy over any other program—and which was often on at our house seemingly nonstop. My then preschool son would keep us abreast of upcoming—usually dire--weather conditions, in painstakingly and endless detail. Only other true Weather Channel aficionados can understand why Jim Cantore was a god in our house and why we were shushed into silence if Jim was expounding on some potential weather disaster.

I knew well the experience of having a son with a passion and enormous knowledge for all things weather. And I distinctly recalled my son speaking excitedly about the weather on June 12, 2013, as I drove him to the train that morning, stating there was a forecast of a possible derecho—an unusual and threatening large storm formation. When I subsequently heard on the news that Austin, a University of Chicago student, was missing while likely seeking out the weather that evening, I thought of my own son who would also have determinedly sought out that type of extreme weather experience regardless of personal safety concerns.

So I anxiously followed Austin’s story and of the heartbreaking discovery of his death. I grieved inwardly for this young man whom I did not know, and for his family, whose sorrow and anguish I could not begin to imagine.

But I do know what it’s like to love a child fiercely with every fiber of my being. I know what it’s like to love my children more than my own life. And I absolutely know that the loss of any child leaves an aching and unfillable hole in a parent’s heart that has to be cruelly recalled each and every day thereafter. A terrible loss and an unfathomable pain that every parent prays never to experience.

But I have also seen the enduring love for a child, for Austin, that is so much stronger than death. When Austin’s family almost immediately started sharing the many pictures, stories of friends and families, and even some personal family videos of Austin with his family, his family’s unwavering love for Austin pulled some of the essence of who Austin was into other people’s lives and hearts, including those of strangers like myself. It was astonishing to me that Austin’s family were able to share so many wonderful and intimate memories of Austin for anyone who wanted to know who he was, during what could only be the darkest moments of their lives. And it is this abiding family love for Austin that steadfastly survives his death, continuing to bring Austin into other’s lives, even those who never met him.

What I now have learned about Austin from those stories and memories is that he was a brilliant, loving and kind college student. He loved weather, numbers and classical music. He was not a fashion plate with his too-short pants and white socks. He was a deeply loved son, brother and friend. And like any son, brother and friend, he had wonderful talents and his own unique quirks.

Most importantly, as Austin’s parents and family so tenderly and lovingly depict, he was just a great kid. Everyone really needs to know that about him most of all, because he was their son and brother who they loved, and will always love, with all of their hearts and fibers of their beings. That never-ending love radiates in and through every picture, story and recollection shared. That they miss Austin more than words can ever adequately convey is achingly palpable. And to intimately know that kind of intense and boundless love in our own lives for our own children means that we strangers, too, can and should also grieve his loss.

I am driving my son to the train on what is probably one of the last of the truly spectacularly warm days of this early Chicago autumn. My son points to the numerous “cumulonimbus” clouds approaching over the horizon. He is explaining, in exacting detail, why they are often called anvil clouds. I look at the majestic white clouds slowly winding their way to Chicago and towards Lake Michigan. And I think of Austin and how he would most likely also have taken time to admire and appreciate the beauty and magnitude of the colossal clouds.

However, I think not just of Austin but also of the indomitable and forever love of his family and how that also continues to resonate with me on this beautiful fall day. Truly, a love that is far greater and stronger than death.

- Anonymous post to RememberingAustin.com

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To whoever wrote this post, you have our deepest thanks and love. Austin's Memorial is Oct 21st at 6:30pm at the Rockefeller Chapel at UChicago. We hope you and your family can join us.

I've been wanting to post a story for quite a while, but haven't been able to face it until now. You have all been so generous with your stories and thoughts, and that means so much to me. Austin and I weren't particularly close for much of the time that we were at home together, but our relationship blossomed when he went off to college. Through our skype calls, my family learned a lot about his life, and about how happy he was in Chicago. Our skypes would cover the big events, like his classes, trips he'd taken, and particularly memorable social interactions. But of course, an hour or two (or three) long conversation once a week can't capture all the aspects of the life he was leading. But when Austin was home for the holidays, I would sit on his bed, he would sit at his desk, and we would talk late into the night about his life and mine. It was during these late-night conversations that I got a sense of all the little pleasures, moments, and decisions that came together to make up his life. I had never had these kinds of conversations with him when he was at home, and I treasured and continue to treasure the openness and emotional connection we had after he went off to college.

The stories you have all shared are the kinds of things we would talk about. These snapshots help me know the Austin that you all did; the Austin that I didn't get to see very often, but who I knew I loved and respected, and perhaps most importantly, enjoyed spending time with as a friend. You knew this Austin, and I can't tell you how much it has meant to me to be able to read your stories, and through them, get to know him better. You all have given me so much.
I haven't been ready to post anything until today, but I have wanted to give back to you all as soon as the stories began pouring in. You have given me a better picture of what Austin was like as an adult, as a friend. What I can give you now is a better picture of who Austin was as a child, and as a brother. I hope that those stories mean as much to you as your stories have meant to me.

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When Austin was in his early teens, he absolutely loved the Need for Speed games. He had Porsche Unleashed, Hot Pursuit, and Need for Speed 4, but his first love was Need for Speed 2. The graphics were old and grainy, the physics were dicey, and the announcer was super cheesy, but it was the first racing game he had, and he loved it.
I would sit next to him in the computer room and watch him play. He was very good, and always beat out the AI with no trouble. He always set the view to the one where you are "inside" the car. You could see these arms on the wheel and the windshield frame. At the time, I didn't understand why he loved that view so much; it made playing the game harder. I always used the view above the car when I played. But I get it now. It was the same reason he loved Gran Turismo so much. The interior view made the game more immersive.
After a time, we discovered that the game had a split-screen mode. Naturally, we decided it would be fun to race each other. I remember we played the Mystic Peaks track first, a fun track, but it had a lot of twists and turns. (Here's a link to someone playing through the track, though they aren't nearly as good as Austin. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDSOzaJ_WaY)

Austin was kind enough to give me the car with the best handling, the indigo. It wasn't very fast, but gave you a lot of control. I was used to driving the fastest car in the game, the McLaren F1, which had terrible handling. The physics of the game were so forgiving that I was so used to bouncing off walls instead if actually steering that in the indigo, I kept ramming into walls head on and getting stuck. Despite Austin's best intentions, I was hopeless in that race. He beat me handily.

But this is the sweet part. He saw that I loved racing with him, even though I wasn't very good, so after that race, he got into the habit of purposefully putting himself into one of the worst cars in the game. I had the fastest one, which meant I actually had a shot at winning. I didn't win every time, far from it, but his choice to handicap himself meant that we really got a chance to play together in a way that was fun for both of us. When he played split-screen with me, he put aside the things he most enjoyed about the games so that we could have a different kind of experience, and share the moment.

As much as I enjoyed racing against him, it's true that I also loved watching him play. Racing required a certain amount of strategy, and he always set them to as difficult a mode as possible. He hated when unrealistic physics made the game too easy, which is probably why he stopped playing Need for Speed a few years later, after he discovered Gran Turismo, a racing game that is more accurately described as a driving simulator. I was the one that gave it to him for Christmas, and it was great to see him enjoy it so much. In Gran Turismo, the slightest mistake can cause your car to spin out. The AI opponents are actually very good, so a mistake can cost you the win. One afternoon, I went upstairs and saw that he was playing it. Remembering Need for Speed, I asked him if I could have a go. He gamely handed over the controller (after he finished his race, of course). I gave up within the first five minutes after I fishtailed, spun out, and ran aground on the grass, my AI opponents leaving me in their digital dust. I decided it wasn't my kind of game, but it was definitely Austin's. Austin took back the controller, and I settled on the corner of the bed so I could watch him play.

Fall is the time for college recruiters to visit Albuquerque Academy to speak with prospective students.
Today we had a visit from Andrea Mondragon, our rep from the University of Chicago. Despite her busy schedule for the afternoon, Andrea wanted to go out to our Medicine Wheel on campus after she was done talking to our current seniors. She brought a small token from the Univeristy of Chicago, which she left at the Medicine Wheel in memory of Austin. It was a glorious day, and we shared some thoughts and memories of him in the serenity of this beautiful place.

This is the second article that I wrote for my company's newsletter to share my experience with all our customers here at Trakware. This may seem like an odd thing to share with a customer but I feel there are many lessons to be learned from all the stories posted here about Austin and how he lived his life.

Here's second my article:

WHAT I LEARNED FROM AUSTIN

As you may have read in my last newsletter, my son died last month in Chicago. He had left his apartment, probably to watch a large thunderstorm pass over the city, and disappeared. After a six day search, his body was recovered from the lake.

Once Austin was found, many stories from his friends and classmates started flowing in to a website we’d built to assist in the search.

As a father in a very close family, I thought I knew my son pretty well. But as I’m sure you all can remember from when you were young, we don’t reveal everything about ourselves to our parents, friends, classmates or lovers. Each person knows a different side of us.

Reading these stories has allowed us to see all the facets of our son and to really appreciate the impact he had on
everyone who knew and loved him.

And in reading these stories, my son taught me many things about how to live a richer life.

BE WHO YOU ARE
From his love of classical music, to his too-short pants and bright white socks, Austin didn’t care what people’s opinions
of him were. Austin enjoyed being exactly who he was. How often do we hide parts of ourselve’s so we can “fit in” rather than be who we are?

BE JOYFUL IN LIFE
Story after story remarks on Austin’s ever present smile, enthusiasm, and positive attitude. He had those because he always looked for the best in people and in experiences. How many people do you know who always look for the negative in people or situations? There is no courage or joy in pessimism.

LOVE LEARNING
Austin took a joy in learning new things, be it from chasing us around with sidewalk chalk at age 2 to learn the alphabet, to attending a university with a broad required curriculum, Austin wanted to know everything about everything and would work hard to do it. Learning is growth. What new knowledge have you challenged yourself with recently?

LOVE TO TEACH
Austin’s love of learning and joy in knowledge led him to enthusiastically tutor other students in his classes. For him, concepts were cool and he loved working with people until their eyes lit up and they “got it” too. What passions do you have that you could teach others?

EMBRACE NEW EXPERIENCES
Austin said “yes” much more than he said “no” to new experiences. He’d try everything at least once to see if he enjoyed it rather than rejecting opportunities out of hand. How easy it is to say “That sounds like too much work” and then turn on the TV to have yet another unremarkable day.

CREATE TIME FOR YOUR FRIENDS
Austin was always available to his friends. If a friend needed his time, but he had to study that day as well, he’d
simply skip sleeping. I know my circle of friends is much smaller now as I’m often too busy or too tired to make time
for them.

AUSTIN ALWAYS WANTED THE BEST FOR PEOPLE
From trying to entice a homeless man into a free YoYo Ma cello concert, to gently steering his friends to follow their
passions in picking a career path (and not their parent’s), to helping a competitor with a tricky concept BEFORE a
competition. Austin always wanted everyone to be their best selves. We so often see life as a zero-sum game where
someone’s gain is another person’s loss, and Austin knew that was not true. Helping people only makes the shared pie
bigger 


If anyone would like to see any of the stories I have referred to, they are posted under “Stories” at www.RememberingAustin.com.

And I want to thank all of my colleagues, suppliers and customers who have reached out to my family at this difficult time. Your prayers and good wishes are deeply appreciated.


- Gregg LaPore
TRAKWARE

I am proud to say that I have the treasured memory of seeing Austin ... dance.

We had discussed dancing a few times before, during lunch conversations about what the different art credit possibilities were (which, as it turns out, dance is not actually one of them. Oops), and his contribution to the conversation was always to shake his head vigorously - scrunched eyebrows and all - and say something to the effect of "yeah, I can't dance". When I pointed out that no one in any of these intro art credit classes was actually expected to be good at whatever they were learning, his response was simply his classic "eh"+shrug (the combination he used whenever he disagreed with you or was uncertain about something you said).

To my delight, spring quarter of second year came around, and in the middle of our Introduction to Western Art Music course, the professor suddenly announced one day that she wanted us to try a new type of learning: she wanted us to "feel and depict" the nuances in the music by choreographing a dance to the fourth movement of Beethoven's Symphony No. 5. She split the class up into two - the dancers and the judges (why she thought it was a good idea to have half the class embarrass themselves by actually trying the assignment and the other half just sit around and not have to do anything is beyond me... but that's a topic for another time). Austin and I ended up in the dancers group, partly because we were a little slow at declaring our objections, and partly because we weren't averse to embarrassment and thought it might end up being fun.

Our group of 7 or 8 was given about 5 minutes to make something up - a daunting task, as although by this point we all knew the music well, none of us had any experience choreographing at all. We managed to come up with an intro where we would come out (marching and swaying to the music) from behind the curtain onto the "stage", which is how the transition from the 3rd to 4th movement felt to us. We discussed characterizing the rhythm and tempo of the rest of the piece with certain movements, and having one distinct dance move per theme... and then we ran out of time and ended the planning session with "screw it, we'll just wing it".

And that's pretty much what happened. I'd love to report that what transpired was as majestic as the movement itself (my personal favorite of the four), and that we successfully translated the music to dance in the supremely long 5 minutes we were given... but as you can probably guess, that didn't happen. After the intro, we essentially awkwardly cracked up... and just danced whatever moves popped into our minds (which doesn't sound too bad off hand, but remember, we were doing this in front of a sitting panel of "judges", who I'm pretty sure are probably now scarred for life)

I'll hand it to Austin - he was right. He knew where his talents were and were not, and, as many natural talents as he did have, dancing just wasn't one of them. But even then, he was in the very front laughing and doing big, sweeping movements the entire time. No shyness, no shame. Just enjoying the absurdity of the situation for what it was.

Austin and I went to a lot of concerts together. This past spring, for example we went to around six concerts at the Chicago symphony orchestra. With other friends the music might have stopped there and the evening when we got back to our respective apartments, but for us the music and the night would end in his room. We would go back to his place to listen to his favorite recording off of YouTube of a piece or a musician who he had mentioned during intermission. We would lie on his bed, listening until I got all musiked out for the evening. Although I always loved music, my taste was limited to largely pre-classical when I started college. My friendship with Austin forced me to expand as a listener and, therefore, as a musician.

I’m Jo. I was Austin’s first nanny. I’m not sure why it has taken me so long to share a post with you all about Austin. It’s not as though he hasn’t been constantly on, and, in my mind. Part of this writer’s block stems from not knowing where to
start. Part of it my denial. If I am writing about him in the past then, well,, that’s it. And I don’t want there to be only memories left of Austin. I want to be able to have so many more stories. The memories are not enough. In this I know I am not alone. But write I must, so, I start with one simple memory, one that makes me smile.

I read somebody else’s story about Austin turning down a game of mini-golf and it brings me to: A Day Out at Mini-golf 1 - Summer of 1999. I was visiting my “family” the Hudson Lapore’s in Albuquerque, with my then boyfriend, John, who was driving on after our trip to New Mexico to start a life in Arizona. Without me. We decided to say our tearful goodbyes (somewhat onesided I might add!) at their house, where I would then nurse my wounds spending time with the family - the world’s best remedy to any ailment, including the incurable, “heartache”.

What better way to distract my thoughts than a round at the local mini-golf course? Neither Austin, nor I, were any good at playing. As we played, it became clear that Austin was actually worse than me - a pretty difficult task, I might add -
and he began scowling at me and banging his little mini-club at the verge. He asked Gregg why we were doing this . He simply couldn’t comprehend that he had found something that he wasn’t good at and we were still doing it! Gregg patiently
began to explain the concept of playing, yet not always winning. Austin did not look impressed.
“You can’t always win Austin”, Gregg said, reassuringly.
“Why not?”, Austin sulked.
“Because that would be boring.” supplied Gregg.
“No it wouldn’t.” Austin replied. “I love winning.”

Well, he didn’t win this game, and his humour didn’t improve, but he didn’t stop playing. At the end of the game, as we were returning our clubs, Austin came up close to me, leant his head against my arm and said, “I let you win Jo, because you’re sad today.”
Thus, making us both feel a little better.
I’m glad to say that Austin’s sense of competitiveness never weakened, his desire to help people and make them feel better, (though in the is particular memory I have a sneaking suspicion that he may have been helping himself), and his curiosity to understand why something was so, and, being Austin, challenging it.

A L B U Q U E R Q U E   A C A D E M Y
         S E N I O R   E V A L U A T I O N

           Austin Reed Hudson-Lapore

Despite his diminutive stature, Austin Hudson-Lapore is a giant. Rendered irresistible by his cheerful disposition and winning smile, Austin captivates both teachers and other students with his boundless enthusiasm for learning. In conversation and in class, he wields a tremendous intellect, scintillating with eager curiosity and driven by desire to learn. Truly, Austin navigates the life of the mind with fluid ease and grace.

Austin's eagerness to discuss complicated ideas with any and all comers has, in the past, had mixed results.  As a younger student, he sometimes unwittingly intimidated other students and even teachers with his academic boldness. A true student of life, however, Austin has developed a gentler mode of discussion. Now, he waits to hear what others have to say before he comments, taking care to credit the valid points in others' arguments. In sum, Austin's EQ is just as impressive as his lQ. Equally impressive is his stellar grade point average and standardized test scores. Teachers enthusiastically expound on Austin's exceptional qualities:

     Austin will go down in Albuquerque Academy history as one of its finest science students. He lives, eats and breathes science. Although his knowledge is vast and he is comfortable sharing it, he never makes a person feel ignorant. (Science Bowl Coach)

    Meticulous, careful, brilliant, capable and confident, Austin is unreservedly the best student I have ever taught.Even in the tenth grade, he displayed an extremely rare synthesis of all his learning so the world as he knows it is self-consistent.  Austin is thus able to derive just about anything from first principles, and he enjoys the puzzle, the challenge of doing so almost as much as he is rewarded by the understanding he gains in doing so. Even at the college level, I have never encountered his equal in one of my students. (Advanced Placement Chemistry)

    During the essay workshop at senior retreat Austin stood out from all the other students in both groups with the care and insight of his comments. He was the only student who chose to read another person's essay out loud in its entirety because he thought it was an excellent example. Even to someone who knows him casually, his facile mind and his deep heart are readily apparent. (College Adviser)

In his extracurricular activities, Austin remains a most formidable competitor. A key participant in Science Bowl throughout middle and high school, Austin and his self-selected team have attended the national tournament each year, with excellent results. On our Science Olympiad team, which has gone to the national tournament for the duration of his high school participation, Austin is the kid who can do it all-when one student is unable to cover his event for any reason, Austin steps in and does a bang-up job.

During summers, Austin earns spending cash and gives back to the school as a teaching assistant for summer classes, where his enthusiasm for learning and ability to offer alternate explanations greatly enhance the students' experience. On reflection, Austin states: "Being a teaching assistant taught me how to work with, interact with, and teach kids, while also letting me learn when to step back and let other people do all the thinking and learning themselves." Summer school teachers invariably give Austin the highest marks in his evaluations as a TA and request him for the following year.

Although he may appear overly bookish at a first glance, Austin has demonstrated compassion and grace to match his intellect. We expect him to continue becoming a social phenomenon as well as an academic one. As much as we will miss his delightful character, his incisive wit, and most of all his unceasing pursuit of knowledge and delight in learning,  we are glad to send him on to you, the next step. We are confident that you will find him as amazing as we have, and we envy you the joy of this discovery.

One thing I always admired about Austin was his unconditional willingness to help others solve problems. It was most apparent to me on the many occasions when I was stumped by a homework problem, either because it was difficult or because I couldn't read the question in the grainy picture I had taken of the library's copy of the textbook. My last resort was always to text or message Austin for hints and clarification. I will always be grateful for the depth of his responses, no matter the question, and no matter how late I asked for them. One night he typed up half the IChem problem set, a solid page and a half of text, so I could work on the problems. It always seemed like he was bursting to share anything he learned, especially with people who understood it and especially when it helped others. On the few occasions I figured out a problem and he didn't I was eager to return the favor. When I think of Austin, I remember to share my knowledge unconditionally with the world.