KNACK Magazine #28

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rachel cox 4

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andrea vaca co-founder, director, photo editor, marketing will smith co-founder, digital operations ariana lombardi executive editor jonathon duarte design director miljen aljinovic editor fernando gaverd designer, digital operations, marketing jake goodman designer, photographer cover by jake goodman / spread photographs by allyson lupovich k n a c k m a g a z i n e 1 at g m a i l . c o m

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O N E O F M Y E A R L I E S T M E M O R I E S I S F RO M T H E FA L L O F 19 9 2 .

My little sister Rachel had been born weeks ahead of schedule on August 30, premature and fragile with laboring little lungs. The hope for her survival was as weak as she was. I was barely two years old but my parents were afraid that we might lose her, so they put their miniscule creation in my arms so that I could feel, if only for a moment, the powerful connection of sisterhood we shared. It was a tiny gesture of trust and love that would become a treasured part of our family story.

Rachel surprised us all. She grew and flourished. We would look

at her with love and tell her about how once we didn’t think we’d get to keep her. No one, especially the tough and mighty Rachel, could believe that she had started life on Earth no bigger than the palm of someone’s hand, with all the odds against her. As we watched her turn into a dynamite little person, chattering up a storm and skinning her little-girl knees, we marveled that we might have never gotten to know her. I’m so grateful that we did.

Rachel was born following myself and my older brother David, who

passed away several years ago. She was the baby of the family, but her strength of personality would never betray it. She was the boss from the beginning because she intuitively knew how to lead; she simply knew what to do to make things work and how to make people happy. As her older sister, I had and still have a deep instinct to protect her, but all throughout our childhood and into adulthood, it was really she who took care of me. She always put other people before herself and nurtured her loved ones without bounds.

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More than anything, Rachel wanted everyone to be okay. Rachel

was one of those people who seemed to come from a smarter, brighter, quirkier planet than the rest of us. I loved visiting that planet, and with Rachel around I got to go there every day. A cheerful, feisty, creative, and goofy little girl. She was the perfect playmate. Aside from her and my brother, I never longed for other company. Rachel could weave a story like no one else, and she had a natural heroism that made her a dynamic partner in all of our years of make-believe. She was one of those people who could tell an amazing story, but who never really realized that the most remarkable story was her own. In the story of her life, she was so many characters; she was the heroine, the sage, the damsel and the clown.

There will never be enough words to describe her. Her spirit was

always larger than the room and if Rachel was happy, it seemed that everyone was. She was fearless and ambitious but endlessly generous and kind. She had no qualms about making fun of herself but at her core, she was unshakeable. She was the kind of girl who could bravely face the playground bully, but she was also the girl who would become the shy new student’s very first friend.

That gutsy little girl became a gorgeous, sturdy woman who

strangely never knew how stunning she was. I see it in every photograph of her: she radiates a warm, gentle beauty that she is completely unaware of. Hers, to me, is the most graceful kind of beauty; beauty that doesn’t even recognize itself.

Rachel was born and raised in El Paso, Texas. All through her life,

she was a straight-A student and a voracious reader. She learned to play

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the violin at a young age and could sing like a bird. She was always a talented writer and poet, but she also had a mind for math and science.

In high school she was in plays and in college she wrote and performed sketch comedy. She played softball as a kid and as a young woman was hale and strong. She learned to play guitar in college and was a wiz in the kitchen. She loved baking and decorating treats for her friends, as well as knitting hats and scarves for them.

After graduating high school, she moved to Santa Fe to attend

university at Santa Fe University of Art and Design. She began college as a Creative Writing major but switched her focus to Contemporary Music.

She interned at the Santa Fe Opera and as her talents were immediately recognized, she quickly climbed the ladder to become Supervisor of Orchestra Services. Rachel had ambitions to become an opera singer, and had started pursuing her dream with Opera Southwest. She was gifted in so many ways and was looking forward to many possible paths. I always wished I could be as un-cynical as Rachel was. I always wished I could be as responsible and as organized. I learned so much from her kindness and her calm. She was a role model to me and I will learn from her for the rest of my life.

Rachel passed away on June 29th 2015, leaving a hole in my heart that will never heal, but she has left all of us so many gifts. One thing I think that everyone who knew her can agree on is that Rachel’s presence has in no way diminished, and never will. Just as she surprised us when she was born too early, she has surprised us all by

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continuing to inspire us and to grow. Her spirit is stronger than ever.

I will miss her every day of my life but I will always think back to holding her in my arms when she was the tiniest baby, before either of us knew the words to describe our bond, hoping so much that I would get to hold her just a little bit longer. It turns out, I got to hold her for twenty-two wonderful years. And I am forever grateful.

Carey Cox

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P ORC E L A I N B OX ER Daniel Siuba

Little bird, Little bird fly me from rain Little bird, Little tune gentle sweet sang tell me who y’all love/tell me who y’all love tell me who calls you home

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porcelain boxer sparring notation twisting string and bow

vocallyfiddle, kissing the wind– kisses the wind to float.

Bleeding me, aching, promenade green soft as lace & white as cream: a dove, a freckle, a leaf

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II

“Allergies�, I knew. with illuminated pupils, two eyes do I think they called your name too soon

aviated soul embodied gold rising smile that smile

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(What memory? What memory should I put here?)

Ah, muscle memory of hands & fingers ambling down keys index-middle-ring intuitive lead

(a subtle moment, we subversive: it’s a harmonic conspiracy!)

inhalation of joy: fleeing unit loving creation a knowing look between you and me

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O Little Woman, Little Unknown Woman, was it we set loose us you or three?

Sigh.

Think better not to ask.

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Yet

still wonder:

did they even look

will they ever

see

universe, alive– centuries of dream.

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L A ST WOR DS Joshua T. James

note: What I say here cannot do justice to Rachel’s life or what she meant to this world and its people.

I can only speak for what she meant to me.

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As I’m writing this it has been one week, one day and thirty-eight hours since I last saw Rachel Cox. I’m sitting in Marcus and Jordyn’s living room watching their puppy Taco, my cat Stanley, and Rachel’s two dogs Samson and Doogie. I can barely stand to be in our apartment for more than a few minutes and can’t stand to be alone for more than a couple of hours. Since I last spoke to her boyfriend Perry at 3:56pm on June 29, 2015 I’ve cried more times than I care to count and have cracked a smile once (maybe). As soon as I could muster the strength to break the news to our closest friends, perhaps the most violent thunderstorm I’ve ever witnessed came down on Santa Fe. According to a few close friends, lightning struck Benildus Hall – the building where she’d spent four plus years studying contemporary music at Santa Fe University of Art & Design. I couldn’t help thinking, “God must be crying.”

The events of this past week changed the lives of just about everyone Rachel ever met. It couldn’t be helped. She was the kind of person who would bring light into everyone’s world no matter what was bothering her on a given day. Nobody knows this more than her beloved mother and sister, whose kindness could only be surpassed by Rachel herself. She loved them about as much as a person could love.

a typical weeknight

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Since May 2014, I was lucky enough to have seen Rachel almost every day. We witnessed each other’s highs, lows and everything in between. We met my freshman year of college when she was dating my dorm mate and all I knew was her name and major. In the past year, the two of us went from being fond acquaintances to becoming close enough that she’d said that I was like a brother.

Thursday June 25, 2015 was our last night together and it could not have been more mundane.

Rachel had just gotten home from a long day of work at the Santa Fe Opera and she was exhausted as usual but after taking five minutes to ask me how my day went, she wanted to take Samson and Doogie to the dog park and pick up Taco Bell for dinner.

She’d been eating extremely well the past few weeks and finally decided it was time to treat herself.

Doogie was so excited he peed on his mommy

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the last picture I took of her

I spent the next hour watching a new episode of Hannibal before deciding I’d go out for some fast food that day as well. At the intersection of Cerrillos and St. Francis I saw a familiar Silver PT Cruiser and I pulled up to wave at a pretty blonde woman driving with two very happy dogs. We got back to the apartment at around the same time and preceded to watch an episode of Grimm. It was the first new show we’d watched together in sometime, having gone through Buffy, Bob’s Burgers, Friends and How I Met Your Mother a few too many times. This wasn’t the best show either of us had ever seen but it was something to bring us together so we didn’t care.

It had been a good day.

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The worst part is knowing that she’s not coming home to tell me about her day, spoil her babies with French fries, rant about how she got hurt that day or just to say hi before running to meet her boyfriend for dinner. But I’m still expecting it. I started throwing away her food and couldn’t help thinking how pissed she was going to be about having to spend another hundred dollars stocking the refrigerator. I’m still waiting for her to tell me to go pick her up or for her to show up at our door just so I can let everyone know I fucked up. She was just sleeping. More than anything I want a chance to tell her that she was my sister and I love her too.

I can’t say that what we had was more special than what she had with anyone else. She had something special with everyone else.

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Doogie (left), Samson (center) and Stanley (right)

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I’m sitting here concerned with writing that will not come easy, the sex I haven’t had, the questions I don’t have answers to, the words I can’t find, the love growing inside my heart for a body I am learning to accept as my own, with a six-month old heartbreak that is on the mend. Since hitting this quarter-life mark, I think of my own mortality. It’s constant. It vexes. I am preoccupied with my life, this unrelenting ego, planning my future and speculating. Will I be remembered as a person who was as important as I feel, right now, in this moment and all its insignificance?

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The phone rings, and I know before he says it.

You have passed.

You were so goddamn young. You were so goddamn good. What is this randomness of who stays and who goes and how it all happens? Here I am concerned with this life and you haven’t one to cling to anymore.

Death is for the living, this pain is to breathe into. This heartbreak is mine to bear – to carry you, to hold you, to remember your goodness.

–Ariana Lombardi

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an honest-to-god conversation on a bike path behind SFUAD recalled by Rob K. Neelbert

i want to get fat i want to bloat up like jabba the hutt i want to get fat and hire an army of freshmen to carry me around to all my classes the pay will be horrible but the job comes with dental what’s your dental plan? you get my used floss sounds like a plan i need to get a job anyway when can I collect on my dental?

As soon as I get fat

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For Rachel

music and lyrics by Liv Lombardi

https://soundcloud.com/liv-lombardi/for-rachel

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My heart hurts,

to give love

It’s heavy

to the things that are hard to take.

Just to sit here and stare at the ceiling.

Got me going, And this silence,

imagining stories

it’s deafening.

about those I love vanishing from me.

I wonder if you’ll hear it

And this silence,

when you’re in heaven.

it’s deafening.

I wonder if you’ll hear it

And my thoughts race

You’ll hear it in heaven.

to your family.

I wish I could hold them safely from this pain.

Our tender hearts; they break.

Got me going,

And our lives become

imagining stories

the steps we take

about those I love

to give love,

vanishing from me.

to give love, to give love

Our tender hearts;

to the things that are hard to take.

they break.

And our lives become

This silence,

the steps we take

It’s deafening.

to give love, to give love,

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