Remembering David

His friends meet at Jo Fed’s at midnight. They are at least a hundred strong. They are grieving as they walk through the streets. They are celebrating his life with candles glowing in their hands. They stop at the corner of 13th and Willamette, where bouquets of fresh flowers lie on the pavement. They carry a bike, painted white, and chain it under a sign that reads: “In memory of Dave Minor 06/02/2008.”Minor was born to John and Susan Minor in Eugene on Feb. 23, 1981, and grew up with a younger brother, Kevin. He graduated from the UO with a bachelor of arts in environmental studies and sociology. Those are the facts of his life. 

His friends and family will also tell you that Minor liked to make an entrance by swinging the door wide open and sticking half of his face into the room to see if anyone was home. He had a reputation for being clumsy, but he could dance. Every once in a while you could find Minor dancing in the kitchen, at a bar or at a house party. He’d lift his knees high and put his arms straight out like he was driving a car.

He was also a passionate storyteller speaking with his hands in motion and his elbows flailing, but often he would interrupt himself with his own laughter. When he laughed, it was with his whole body. His head and knees would rock back and forth. He would close his eyes, slap both his knees and laugh until he was out of breath.

Dave Minor was the guy you called if you wanted to go out on the town because he always knew what was happening. He was a good host even if he was absent. On one occasion Minor was out of town, but a friend was having a birthday and wanted to know if they could throw a party at Minor’s house. He was happy to have the party at his home even though he was gone.

“He was a lover and a thinker,” says Kelsy Laughnan, one of his best friends. “He was smart enough to do anything.” In college Minor talked about going to law school or becoming an activist. He expressed a desire to live in South America, but he had found happiness in Eugene with his job as the general manager of the newly renovated Jo Federigo’s. The job fit his life because it offered local and organic products and he was able to create a space for people to get together, socialize and listen to music.

Minor had a love for music, anywhere from local underground hip-hop, classic jazz to the punk scene. He enjoyed sharing new music and literature with friends. On rare occasions he could be found watching Sex and the City or The L Word with his close friend Meagan Shaw, especially if it would cheer her up. “He was one of the greatest people in my life,” says Shaw.

“When I knew him, he was complicated and conflicted,” says Peter Allen, a past roommate and close friend. “Dave had a very strict code of ethics concerning consumption of goods and services. He felt frustrated to live and work in a society where he felt forced to break his codes.” Minor wore a tattoo on his left forearm with a quote by Eugene Debs that read “While there is a lower class, I am in it; while there is a criminal element, I am of it; while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.”

He wouldn’t tolerate hate and ignorance. At a bar one night, Minor overheard a few guys telling jokes about minorities. He stood up and told the guys they didn’t belong at the bar and that they should leave. The guys telling the jokes saw the group of 10 friends standing behind Minor, and they left.

He tried to change the world by doing things like volunteering with Food Not Bombs, challenging people to think outside the box, discussing environmental and political injustice and growing a vegetable garden. “He was always growing food at his house, tending some piece of land or another,” says Allen. Minor made a conscious decision to ride his bike rather than drive his truck because he didn’t want to support petroleum companies. He loved riding his bike.