Leo's Legacy

Spread some ducking joy

Anyone can spread joy. Photo by author.

Hey,

On Wednesday I left you wondering what kind of email this was going to be. Would I send an essay to make up for Wednesday’s lack of one, or would I send a dose of EEE in Friday tradition?

This newsletter isn’t either of those things.

I was deeply sad yesterday. My emotional pendulum has been swinging in a lot of different directions over the last two weeks, and all that movement has worn me out. My town is going through a bit of a struggle right now, too, and as I’m deeply involved in the workings of this place, and as many people I know and care about are affected, that has taken its toll as well.

And then, yesterday was the day my dear friend, Leo, would have turned 37.

When he died from cancer in March, I asked my town’s executive governing board to name June 15 after him. On May 22, my request was fulfilled. I contributed to writing a proclamation outlining all the wonderful things he did for our town, topmost of which was the visibility and acceptance he promoted for queer and trans youth in our community. A Board member read it aloud at an open public meeting as a group of community members and friends stood watching.

And then the last few weeks happened. I’m feeling empathy and sadness for a lot of different folks: kids and staff members at our schools who have experienced homophobia, racism, and antisemitism; adults and kids who choose to expose themselves in the name of healing and growth despite the potential risk to their psychological, personal, or professional safety; friends who became the very public voice and face of a nasty situation despite not wanting to be in the spotlight. And I am back to wondering how we could possibly heal as a society when so many of us are so willing to dismiss each other based on what we think we know rather than actual facts.

On top of feeling all the turmoil my family, friends, and neighbors are going through, I woke up yesterday, on Leo Day, missing my friend.

I had set aside the entire day to work, but I just couldn’t. I turned on an audiobook instead and went outside to feed and water the chickens, turn the compost (shhh,

Robin Taylor (he/him)

), and breathe in some fresh air. I moved slowly. I rocked gently in the hammock for at least an hour.

At one point I managed to get myself inside and to my computer, but I didn’t even get a full sentence written before my restlessness carried me away once more. I needed to feel the sun and the breeze on my skin. I needed to do something outside myself.

Back when the Leo Day proclamation was made, I thought it would be nice to do something to spread joy around town on Leo Day, because nothing made him happier than bringing joy to others. So I decided to grab some rubber duckies from Party City, write kind messages on them, and deposit them around town.

Leo had a collection of rubber ducks that people had gifted him over the years. He loved them because, as he used to say, “When you see a rubber duck, you can’t help but smile.” And when I told his wife and my friend, Kerry, my idea, she said, “Oh, we have some at the house with messages already on them.”

Of course they did.

The ducks were from Leo’s memorial, and they had little tags that said “Spread some ducking joy,” with a note on the back about the significance of the ducks and a hashtag (#leoslegacy) to use on social media. I picked up a friend, and together we walked around the public spaces in my town, leaving little rubber duckies for people to find and pass along.

As I reflected on my own and talked to others during the day yesterday, I realized the full depth of what Leo gave to us all. While he was making an impact on all the individuals he ever came in contact with, he was also helping to form a supportive and loving community that could get us all through the struggles that would follow.

At a time when the divisions in our society and community are starkly and sadly visible, Leo’s imprint on all of us remains indelible. He inspired us all to be better people, to stand together, and I’m so glad he left the world knowing what he meant to us all.

You don’t have to be in our town to celebrate Leo Day, and you don’t have to do it on June 15th, either. Spread some ducking joy every day with a rubber duck, a positive message, and the hashtag #leoslegacy. I promise it’ll bring a smile to someone’s face.

See you next week,