To many of you Jason may have been an enigma. He cultivated that appearance. Jason spent a great deal of time working to make sure you didn’t see past his armor. He was an intensely private man. Some of you had the privilege of seeing behind the wall in rare glimpses and for a very few he let you into his inner circle. I consider it one of the greatest honors of my life to have been permitted residence into that inner-sanctum.
For those of us gathered that saw rare glances or just his exterior, I’m going to attempt to portray what it was he was hiding, and why it was that I thrived in his company, and why it was such a pleasure to call him not just my big brother, but my best friend.
Jason reserved his energies and his emotions from the world at large, in order to cultivate even deeper relationships to those close to him. He was meticulous to a fault, and gave more thought to every conversation—analyzing every nuance of every phrase, sentence and word. Jason meant what he said, and most of his conversations were calculated far in advance. His mind was incredibly deep, his compassion and loyalty were inexhaustible. I’ve never had a problem I couldn’t take to him. He may not have had every answer, but together we could work through anything.
I think that’s what I’ll miss most about not having my best friend around anymore. More than his laugh, more than his smile, more than his voice—I’m going to miss the countless hours on the phone, the conversations on everything from politics to Aristotle to why mathematically, and unequivocally the Buckeyes were the best team in the nation. Jason took to things with a passion. If he made up his mind to do something, he did it. Long after someone else would have given up, Jason would keep to his crusade. He loved poetic justice and small acts of protest. He wasn’t confrontational; if he had a problem he wouldn’t normally say a word, but later his inner circle would hear all about it. I loved being one of his vents.
Jason knew what I was thinking sometimes before I could formulate the thought. I could tell what Jason would think and how he might react to almost anything, he loved to make your day. He put more thought in the maintenance of each of his friendships than you may ever know. He worked hard not just to please, but to leave you astonished that anyone could know you and understand you so well. That was Jason’s gift. He was blessed with a sharp analytical mind, and an abundant love of family. He was the greatest of listeners because of these very traits.
Jason had a number of passions. The first was his family. First and foremost was Elizabeth. He delighted in you, and loved you so very much. I can’t explain just how much joy you brought your Daddy. You are his life’s work. He cherished every moment with you, and wanted you to have the happiest fullest life possible. You made him beam with pride. You will always be his Elizabeth Dawn Scott Rupert Rufus Allen. Your Daddy loved you very much.
Second only to family was Ohio State. You may think there are four seasons. Jason would tell you there are two—college football season, and not college football season. To define passion was to watch Jason watch an Ohio State game. Every play, every mistake, and every victory; Jason was a roller coaster of anxiety, anger, and elation. If you ever had an afternoon to fill, all you had to do was ask him about The Game. He loved the team, the traditions, and the high. When the Buckeyes lost, Jason was a wreck. He once threw a phone into a swamp after a loss to Penn State. I’ll never forget the sound of a phone whirring through the air and the sudden dial tone. It won’t be the same without him.
Trailing behind the Buckeyes was music. He collected it, sifted it, sorted and categorized it. If you ever wanted to know what was on Jason's mind, all you had to do was ask him what was on repeat at the moment. His taste varied wildly. He knew more about classical music than some music appreciation teachers; and just as much about southern hip-hop or Nashville country. Music allowed Jason an escape and helped him think, relax, cope, and live. One of my great pleasures was introducing a new song or band to Jason and watching his response. I cherish those songs he gave to me. Few of my memories of Jason are lacking a soundtrack.
He loved to shop, and cook, and read, and debate. He had a vibrancy and a love for new experiences. Whether it was trying a new recipe, or strolling through a new mall, Jason loved to soak it all in. He took to shopping as a challenge. He researched every purchase, weighed the pros and cons of every product, and celebrated finding the right purchase as a small victory.
When you look back on Jason, don’t think about this, the end. This wasn’t Jason. Jason was the best friend of mine who wanted nothing more than to make those in his circle to feel they were the center of the world. Jason was the witty, sarcastic, sometimes sardonic, observer of life. He loved us all with an enormous heart. Jason was, as one of his favorite men said, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, and the world wasn’t good enough for him. Jason, I love you. You will be missed.
This annual Memorial ride was designed to remember those we have lost to war, tragedy, and veteran suicide victims. Only 22 riders maximum are allowed to participate in this long distance Memorial ride as they travel 500 miles in 12 hours or less between Florida & Georgia. It is said that a person dies twice: 1st when they pass away, and second when they are forgotten. Because of this each rider rides in honor of a fallen hero to keep their memory alive to have their name and story remembered by all those who see the ride, or visit this Memorial and remembrance page. Please share the names, or contribute pictures and/or stories to help achieve this.
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