I met Connor on an epic white rim mountain biking trip in 2004.  Every night we sat around a campfire telling tall tales and pondering the stars and the depth of the universe.  One night, Connor (in a winning combination of academic lecture and ghost story style) told the story of the Chupacabra, which from then on became his trip-name.

The name "Chupacabra" is of Spanish origin meaning "goat sucker” (from chupar, meaning "to suck", and cabra, meaning “goat”) which is in reference to how the mythical beast allegedly attacks its prey.  The phenomenon of the Chupacabra dates to February 1975 when a Puerto Rican legend tells of fifteen cows, three goats, two geese, and a pig that were found with puncture marks in the Rocha Barrio suburbs of Moca. Later autopsies showed that blood had been drained from their bodies. There are no known photographs of the Chupacabra. Many supposed images have turned out to be nothing more than disease ridden coyotes. Thus, it is unknown what this mythical creature looks like, if it actually exists. There are however, numerous "eyewitness" accounts which vary quite a bit. The Chupacabra of Puerto Rico was described by many eyewitnesses as standing on two legs. In newspaper articles during the series of incidents, it was said to be “ some type of large ape ” and “ a vicious monkey that can run upright on its legs, slaughter goats and suck the blood from its prey .” A sound bite from an Associated Press video at the time said “ There are two big animals, as big as a man. I saw them from afar, they looked like big apes, like a mandril but I couldn't distinguish their features. 


Connor was beloved, for his imagination, humor, kindness and edgy charm.  His loss is bitterly felt.  Here is the poem he wrote for us to celebrate our wedding.  

Be not your joy as the mountain view
Appearing but on the best of days
Be it rather as the mountain itself,
Constant and ever present, as the breath
You breathe, whether well or ill.
Let joy be the engine driving your hearts'
Every beat, whether rapid with the heat
Of fleeting ire, or stony slow
With the ennui of time's dogged march.

Though great clouds of chilling mist
Roll in day by day, beshrouding
You from the warming bursts of heat and light,
Be your joy as is the mountain,
Whether lurking, ancient, and subtle,
Or broad-shouldered, chest-thumping,
Shouting, "I am here! I am here."
December 30, 2005

I am Karl's younger sister. I have known Connor since I was 9. I don't really remember much of life before Connor, actually. I will always think of him with that shock of white-blond hair, beside my brother with his contrasting pile of jet-black hair. It has been 14 or 15 years since I last saw Connor, but I can still hear the sound of his voice in my head. When I was younger, Connor was like a second older brother, teasing me mercilessly or ignoring me entirely despite my best efforts to join the fun and get their attention. When I was in high school, during the time Karl and Connor and Greg were inseparable, I tagged along with them for a weekend in the mountains when I had been dumped just before the prom and welcomed an escape from Charlotte. With a sparkling new driver's license, I found myself as the DD, roaming from place to place looking for the next opportunity to stir up trouble. Just as Connor was around for the major events in Karl's life, he was around for many of the major events in mine. I don't recall if he was actually at my high school graduation, but I know he was on the beach trip AFTER graduation. He knew my college boyfriend well enough to exchange greetings when their paths crossed at the University of South Carolina, and he showed his allegiance by ignoring him after we broke up.  

I think Karl described Connor as equally enthusiastic at both extremes, and since I am more comfortable at the serious end of the spectrum, my connection with Connor was more natural there. Everyone remembers Connor's incredible sense of humor, but the Connor who stays in my mind and in my heart is the Connor I saw in Chapel Hill shortly after Greg passed away in 1988, when we simply acknowledged our shared sadness and quietly made our way across campus together. We shared a history, we shared a lot of people, we shared some ups and some downs, and because of that there was always a mutual loyalty and a bond. Like so many others, I am crushed by this tremendous loss, and I am grateful for the full spectrum of Connor that influenced nearly 40 years of my life.

Connor, I hope you have found peace my friend.

Buddies from Chapel Hill, reunited. This photo was taken at our rehersal dinner in May, 1995. Suzanne Saffrit is a friend of Karen's from childhood, and was a bridesmaid. It was great that sometimes these events bring together old friends like Connor, Rob and Suzanne back together.