On the 6th of October 2002, I attended
    the memorial service for Joseph

    Eugene Cotter. I had arrived two evenings before, to stay with
    his

    department chair, Wayne Mixon, his wife Fran, and their son Phillip,
    as

    Cheryl had arranged. It became clear that Wayne and Fran had
    developed a strong relationship with Joe & Cheryl, both professionally
    and 

    personally (and were wonderful folks, too).

    
Cheryl had asked me to come early, to serve
    as an explanatory link to 

    Joe's life before the past 5 years, which was the collective
    experience of 

    those others than me who were assembled. As you may know, Joe
    had been found by his birth family, and his mother, Mary Margaret
    Johnson, and two of his brothers, Adrian and Ed, were also there.
    I was as interested to learn of his heritage as they were to
    hear of his formative years.

    
On Saturday we gathered at Cheryl &
    Joe's house, which I had not before

    seen. It was amazing, spacious and somehow very comfortable in
    its 

    layout. There is a loft above their bedroom where Joe could look
    out the window 

    at trees as he wrote, a big living room connected to a similarly
    large 

    kitchen, a deck which leads out to the backyard pool, and several
    bedrooms both along the entrance way and above along a balcony.
    Michael Cotter had stayed in one of those rooms until his last
    days, not that long ago.

    
Cheryl's mother, Beverly Johnson, had come
    at the first notice of Joe's

    illness, and had steadfastly helped out through the rapid progress,
    and 

    the subsequent turmoil. Cheryl¹s three brothers, twins Phil
    and Steve, and

    Larry were also there, as were her aunt and uncle.

    
We swapped Joe stories through the day,
    as people came through, and 

    many more called. I found out that Joe had been somewhat more
    tired and in back pain during the course of the past year, but
    explained it away as his bad back or old age, as he was wont
    to do (and despite Cheryl's entreaties).

    Apparently, finally seeing a chiropractor, he was referred to
    a doctor. 

    A preliminary indication of liver cancer was quickly followed
    up with the

    identification of a growth on the liver and over 100 spots on
    his 

    lungs. A week later he collapsed and was gone. (Apparently, his
    liver couldn¹t maintain a sufficient electrolyte balance
    and his heart could not 

    function under the conditions.)

    
It is likely that this was a genetic time
    bomb, as his paternal grandmother had rapidly succumbed to liver
    cancer at a similar age. Joe's hard living probably only exacerbated
    the process and likely accelerated the subsequent collapse.

    
We gathered again on Sunday to attend the
    memorial service held at the

    Universal Unitarian Church where Joe and Cheryl had established


    themselves.

    
Reverend Dan King presided over the ceremony
    in the crowded room. His first wedding service when he came to
    this congregation five years ago had been Joe's and Cheryl's,
    but despite appearing visibly moved to now have to preside over
    this event, his handling of the ceremony was eloquent and moving.
    The approach taken at this church is to celebrate life (as opposed
    to "fire and brimstone" as others indicated had been
    their experience in other such occasions), and it was both appropriate
    for Joe's beliefs and a wonderful celebration. The music suggested
    by Cheryl was played by a talented pianist and a expressive singer
    who head the band Joe and Cheryl enjoyed listening to in their
    local club and had befriended. They were joined by a flautist
    who was also an acquaintance. After the Reverend's opening words,
    several members of the university's faculty spoke. First Wayne
    Mixon, my host, recounted Joe's impact on the department. A psychologist,
    a language teacher, and another colleague spoke glowingly of
    Joe's teaching and intellectual, positive, and fun contributions
    to the department and university.

    
It is clear that our boy Joe had finally
    found both himself and, consequently, a home. All the potential
    we had seen in him had come to fruition. There were familiar
    elements in his organization of expeditions to great places,
    penchant for fun, and boisterous stories and singing.

    

    
After the Reverend spoke again, it was
    my turn. I joked about whether we were talking about the same
    person, but then followed up about how I saw elements of the
    man I'd known in their descriptions. I told a bit about how he'd
    struggled to define a role, and how Cheryl had helped him achieve
    the balance he had sought. I thanked them all for having created
    a place that could recognize the good that Joe had to offer.

    
After I spoke, a former colleague (at who's
    house Joe & Cheryl had been married) shared her memories,
    followed by one of Joe's brothers. He read a moving poem from
    the perspective of his mother who had searched for Joe diligently
    from the time he had been taken from her. A student offered how
    much Joe's teaching had meant, and that had been repeatedly emphasized
    through the faculty testimonials as well.

    
Joe had an incisive intellect, fierce loyalty,
    strong principles, and an uncompromising attitude. This was combined
    with a great joy in 

    excitement and new experiences, and a big heart. A phenomenally
    gifted teacher, a dedicated and talented researcher, a selfless
    and uncomplaining participant in service to the university, a
    knowledgeable organizer of fun 

    expeditions, a person who seized the day and wrestled life to
    the fullest, and a good friend was the picture painted. That's
    the man that Joe had become. 

    

    
Rest in peace, amigo.

    
-- 

    Clark Quinn, Ph.D.

    OtterSurf Laboratories

    "Better Learning Through Technology"

    clark@ottersurf.com

    925-200-0881

    http://www.ottersurf.com