Scripture: Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 Tadesse was born in Dessie, Ethiopia in the spring of 1992.

At that
For everything there is a season, time Somalia and Northern Ethiopia were in the midst of a severe
and a time for every purpose under heaven: famine caused by drought and war. The famine ultimately resulted
a time to be born, and a time to die; in the death of over a quarter of a million people. Tens of thousands
a time to plant, and a time to reap;
of children lost both parents. Sonia and I felt prompted to explore
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up; adopting a child. Just six months after we started the adoption
a time to weep, and a time to laugh; process, in the spring of 1994, we heard about a little boy named
a time to mourn, and a time to dance; Tadesse who was then just two. Tadesse (which is his given name
a time to cast away stones, – means “God’s Renewal”) had been found in a basket left in front of
and a time to gather stones together; the town Mosque. There is an almost universal practice of dying
a time to embrace, parents leaving their infant children in front of a church, mosque or
and a time to refrain from embracing;
temple. . . fearing that if their child were to see them die, that the
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away; child’s spirit would depart along with the spirit of the parent. The
a time to rend, and a time to sew; mosque took care of Tadesse for about six months until they ran out
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; of money. Then the town council took care of Tadesse for another
a time to love, and a time to hate; six months until they ran out of money. Then Tadesse (age 18
a time for war, and a time for peace. months) and a another boy (age 3) and a little girl (age 5) were put
on a bus to Adis Abbaba the capital of Ethiopia where they were put
Eulogy: Sonia and David Samelson in a huge state-run orphanage. In the spring of 1994, our adoption
These timeless words from Ecclesiastes speak to the universal agency social worker saw Tadesse and contacted us. It took Sonia,
rhythms of life . . . for everything, and for everyone, there are Paul, Shawna and I about 3 seconds to say yes. Almost exactly six
seasons . . . a time to be born, a time to love, a time for building up, months later, with the always arduous international adoption
a time for laughing, a time for dancing, but also a time for tearing approval process completed in record time, Tadesse, escorted by a
down, a time for weeping, a time for mourning, and yes a time for missionary couple, arrived at San Francisco International on October
dying. These are universal . . . for all of us. While Tadesse’s death 23, 1994 – we were told that Tadesse had entertained his fellow
at 25 seems tragically short, through those 25 years of life, Tadesse passengers – through much of the trip.
experienced all of these seasons of life. Once we arrived home in Yreka, Tadesse quickly picked up English.
A time to be born: (David) A few months after his arrival one evening, he was in the family
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room with me. I was at the computer and he started throwing a
rubber ball against the wall. I said Tadesse please don’t do that.
But he kept on doing it. I thought maybe he didn’t understand me.
So I said, Tadesse stop throwing the ball. He immediately flashed
anger, and said, “You stupid Daddy. You stupid!” And then took off
running for his bedroom. Sonia who heard everything said, “I’ll talk
with him.” About 5 minutes later, Tadesse came back. He had a
contrite expression, with his lower lip quivering and little salt lines
from dried tears down his cheek. Sonia said, Tadesse what do you
want to say to Daddy. Tadesse looked up at me and said, “Daddy,
I sorry you stupid.”
I never knew for sure, but I think Tadesse meant exactly what he
said.
A time to love: (Sonia)
Tadesse came into our lives hungry for food, shelter, but most of all:
love. We had learned a handful of phrases in his language of
Ahmaric before he came, and one we kept saying over and over was
“wadishalo” which means “I love you”. One day just a few days after
he arrived he was in his car-seat as we drove to the church in Yreka.
I said ‘Wadishalo, Tadesse”, and he laughed and responded, not in
Ahmaric, but in English “ I lub you too Mommy.” Tadesse grew up
saying I love you, and said it throughout his life, even in his teen
years, and even in his darkest moments as a young adult. He knew
he was loved, by his parents and siblings and grandparents and
godparents Sarah and Jim Frey, by his aunts and uncles and
extended family, by his church families in Yreka and later in Eureka,
and he knew he was loved by God. And with that security of being
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loved and loving in return, Tadesse developed a wonderful sense of
caring for others. We saw this when he was 14, and we were getting
ready to bring his new little sister home from Vietnam. Tadesse’s
nickname with family and friends had always been ”T”, but when he
learned his new little sister’s name was spelled Thi but pronounced
“T”, he quickly insisted that he would give up his nickname and
became known as Tadesse again. We saw this same caring in the
gentle way he would carry his Grandma Dora down the steps to the
backyard she loved so much. And a memory I hold fast to is from a
cold winter evening, when I watched our then 16 year old son take
off his favorite wool pea coat (that I had paid way too much for) and
put it around the shoulders of a shivering homeless man outside the
dance studio.
A time to build up: (David)
Tadesse was intellectually blessed. He was also driven by a deep
desire to excel. He loved school, and thrived at Gold Street and
Evergreen Schools in Yreka. His teachers would tell us that when
they asked the class a question, Tadesse would almost always raise
his hand first—whether or not he knew the answer. He generally
had the right answer, but if he didn’t know the answer – Tadesse
always had something amusing to say. On top of that he said
everything with a great big toothy smile on his face.
Through his primarily grades, the school repeatedly thought that
Tadesse should skip a grade, because they feared he would get
bored. Yet, Tadesse was so tight with his circle of friends, that he
never wanted to be skipped. Without exception Tadesse was the
only African-American kid in his class, and sometimes in the entire
school – so Sonia and I were always grateful for way he formed
strong friendships.
Tadesse was also blessed physically. He learned to ride a bike at
age 3. He loved T-ball, baseball, soccer, basketball, tennis, track
and snow-boarding. He was hyper competitive. In our family
climbing Mt. Shasta has been an important right of passage. In
climbing the mountain annually for most of the last 20 years, I
watched numerous highly athletic persons puking their guts out
around the 14,000 foot level. But Tadesse at age 12 went up the
mountain . . . like a gazelle.
Finally, Tadesse had stealth musical gifts. No one knew this until he
was in his teens and started borrowing my guitar. One day I heard
an acoustic version of “Stairway to heaven” wafting down the hall. I
figured that Tadesse had downloaded it off the internet. Yet, when I
opened his door, there was Tadesse, completely self-taught, finger-
picking and producing music not much different than if Jimmy Paige
was there playing guitar in Tadesse’s room.
Tadesse’s intense desire to excel, included an enormous capacity
for risk-taking. Tadesse had an innate fearlessness—we discovered
this quite early in his life. One evening, the summer after he
arrived, We were ready to sit down for dinner, but couldn’t find
Tadesse. Then we heard the thud of footsteps . . . coming from
above us. Tadesse had climbed up the trellis on the back patio,
jumped over to the roof, and was running around and laughing. He
was three years old.
A time to Laugh (Sonia):
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Everyone who knew Tadesse knew his joyful, exuberant laugh.
Tadesse shared his brother Paul’s sense of humor and was gifted at
pulling off elaborate practical jokes on family members. (I have no
idea where he got that from.) Tadesse used to play jokes on his
sister Shawna, and later on his sister-in-law Valerie. But he was the
only person in the family who would dare to play a joke on my mom,
his grandma Dora. Tadesse and my mom and I used to share
books, but Tadesse and I were both frustrated by my mom’s habit of
reading the last few pages first. (She wanted to make sure the book
had a happy ending.) Once when the latest Harry Potter book came
out, I read it, Tadesse read it, but when he handed it to Grandma
with a grin on his face, she discovered he had removed the last few
pages. A note was pasted inside the back cover “Grandma, just read
the darn book! Love, Tadesse” And yes--after she read the book, he
returned those pages to her.
Tadesse was also adept at using humor to deal effectively with
racism. When I dropped him off at an after school study group one
afternoon when he was a freshman in high school, a group of his
classmates were gathered, waiting for him. As Tadesse was getting
out of the car, a pretty blonde girl looked at me with a confused
expression and said “Dude, your mom is white?” Tadesse looked at
me in the car and dramatically yelled: “Mom, you’re white?!
What?! Is Dad white too?!” His friends were all laughing, except
the girl. Tadesse grinned at me and said “Bye, Mom. Love you!”.
Tadesse experienced deeply imbedded racism on a daily basis, and
often found he could confront it most effectively in community,
through humor.
A time to Seek: (David)
Tadesse was a life-long seeker. His search for God, his search for
purpose, his search for meaning took numerous forms. Camp was
always at the center of this seeking. Tadesse loved camp. He grew
up going to Redwood Christian Park Family Camp and Children’s
Camp; Shasta Camp and Feather Camp. Every evening of Family
Camp the service would end with an altar call. More than once Paul
or Shawna would tell us that we needed to do something about
Tadesse. He was going forward at every altar call . . . and it was
embarrassing them. Looking back, I sense that Tadesse yearned
for tangible ways to connect with God – and responding over and
over again to altar calls – was quite tangible and readily available for
a church kid like him.
Tadesse’s preference was for a spirituality grounded in experience,
rather than in doctrines. He loved going on mission trips to Mexico
to build houses. He loved that experience – the way it made him
feel. This carried over to worship: In the last few years of his life he
found a preference for Afro-centric and more Pentecostal forms of
worship.
Tadesse also had a strong connection with the first two of Wesley’s
three simple rules: Do no harm and Do good. Tadesse didn’t
have a mean bone in his body. He was competitive but it always
took the form of him doing his best, not in undermining those around
him. The main person that Tadesse hurt . . . was himself.
A time to Dance: (Sonia)
When Tadesse was 8 years old he began taking ballet classes in
Yreka. A couple of years later my uncle Dieter, who had been the
administrative director of the Stuttgart Ballet for many years, and my
uncle Reid, who was (and still is) the Artistic Director of the Stuttgart
Ballet suggested that Tadesse may want to audition for the National
Ballet School of Canada, in Toronto, which is one of the best ballet
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boarding schools in the world, with a ballet program, academic
school and dormitories all housed on one big city block in downtown
Toronto.
Tadesse auditioned in a six week long summer program, and was
offered a full scholarship to their year around school. We were
stunned. Tadesse was stubbornly insistent that he wanted to go, and
badgered us for a decision all the way home to Yreka. That Sunday
in church he stood up during the prayer time, and fervently prayed
into the microphone that God would help his parents make the
RIGHT decision and allow him to accept the scholarship. A month
later, I was on a plane with him and my mom, taking 11 year old
Tadesse to Toronto. In many ways, Tadesse thrived in Toronto. He
loved his dance classes, learned French, and made many friends.
We went to see him dance in the Nutcracker and brought him home
to Yreka for holidays and vacations, but he was so far away, and it
was hard on us and him. After two years, Tadesse wanted to come
home, and be in his words “a regular kid again”. He missed us and
Yreka and his church family and his friends. He missed
snowboarding with his brother and sister and riding horses on the
Sears’ ranch. He came home and spent his 8th grade year at
Jackson Street school in Yreka, where he played basketball and ran
track and played clarinet in the school band. After moving to Eureka
when Tadesse was 14 we found North Coast Dance, a nonprofit
ballet school and company. Tadesse found a second home at North
Coast Dance, and quickly became a company soloist. His first role
there was partnering the Sugar Plum Fairy, as her cavalier. The
next year, at 15, he danced the title role in The Nutcracker, to rave
reviews in the local papers. And then the company director Danny
Furlong created the full-length ballet “Jack in the Beanstalk”,
featuring Tadesse as Jack. More rave reviews—and Tadesse
attended the San Francisco Ballet summer intensive program. At the
end of the six weeks, he was offered a full scholarship to their year
around school. After much family debate, and an offer from my
brother Tom and his wife Katy for Tadesse to live with them in their
home in San Francisco, we accepted the offer from San Francisco
Ballet School. Tadesse was there for a year and a half, studying
ballet 6 days a week. We watched him in two seasons of
Nutcrackers and additional ballet performances. While he received
high praise for his athleticism, performance & partnering abilities, he
was told that he would never be a principal dancer, that at 5’7” he
was too short. It was hard news for a person who had only
experienced great success. Tadesse began skipping ballet classes,
spending more time with friends partying, and he was far behind on
his online high school coursework. We saw that Tadesse’s life was
spiraling out of control, and after his second season of Nutcracker
we pulled him out of the San Francisco Ballet School and brought
him home to Eureka. He wasn’t happy with us, but he went back to
North Coast Dance to dance and also teach. He left Eureka after
graduating from high school in 2010 but returned that December
when North Coast Dance asked him to reprise his role as the
Nutcracker. It was a bittersweet homecoming for Tadesse, who was
struggling with addictions and not at his best, in life and in dance. He
was 18 years old, and it was the last time he danced onstage.
A time for War:
Tadesse was intensely non-violent, as was mentioned earlier, but
that is not to imply that he didn’t engage in intense battles. For
Tadesse the most intense battle of his life was substance abuse.
When he was 14 he began binge drinking. Marijuana use soon
followed. And by the time he was 16, his addictions were significant
demons that were taking a severe toll on him: affecting his dance,
his education, his relationships, and his health.
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Through counseling and numerous treatment programs, Tadesse
discovered that he had an addictive personality and a strong
disposition towards addictions. Yet, knowing about his addictions
and addressing his addictions were two very different things. On his
18th birthday he wanted to strike out on his own—heading to Yreka
where he had been accepted into the College of the Siskiyous Fire
Fighters Academy. There he lived with his surrogate older bother
Wes Dunkin. Despite Wes’ best efforts to keep Tadesse focused on
college, and despite Tadesse scoring incredibly high in the physical
strength and agility testing required for firefighting, the Fire Academy
was soon in the rear view mirror.
As a result of Tadesse’s struggles with drugs and alcohol, he never
was able to get a driver’s license. Yet, that didn’t prevent him from
borrowing and crashing a friend’s car . . . which was the beginning of
a long downward spiral with the courts and jail. I lost a lot of my hair
sitting in court numerous times with Tadesse – both in Yreka and
San Francisco. In court in Yreka it was especially awkward as he
came before judges and DA’s who were members of the church who
had watched him grow up.
Tadesse moved through many different jobs: installing computers,
waiting tables, washing dishes, and lots of retail sales jobs. He
went back to school numerous times: massage school, Heald’s
Business College, a chefs academy. Yet, each proved to be short
lived.
Drugs and alcohol also took a toll on Tadesse mentally. There is a
theory known as “arrested development” in which the brain gets
stuck at the same level of maturity it was when substance abuse
began. In one of our long drives to court, we talked about this and
he confessed that it made a lot of sense to him. He knew that he
was stuck, and he knew that he wasn’t as sharp intellectually as he
had been. Realizing this may have contributed to a deep depression
that he struggled with over the last 8 years of his life.
The other consequence of Tadesse’s war with substance abuse is
that it led to a self-imposed exile on his part. Tadesse knew that he
was loved. He knew he could always come home. Yet, he also
knew that being at home included aggressively dealing with his
addictions. He honestly and confessionally confided that he wasn’t
very confident that this was possible for him. Tadesse also knew
how his little sister Thi looked up to him, and he never wanted her to
be affected in any way by his drug use. This served to amplify his
self-imposed exile.
A time to Die: (Sonia)
The last time that Tadesse was home was a little over two years ago
when we had a Samelson-Quinn family gathering.. Tadesse was
doing pretty well. He was back in San Francisco. Had just
completed a treatment program, and he was working at a restaurant.
The owner of the restaurant really like him , and had helped him get
into a chef’s academy. It was a wonderful day of Tadesse at home;
yet it was short-lived. Two weeks later, he was arrested for
trespassing which was amplified because of previous arrests.
Tadesse’s last few years were transient in nature. San Francisco,
Yreka, Eureka, Los Angeles, back to San Francisco. Some of that
time, he had a roof over his head – and some of that time he was
homeless. . . . something he said he preferred to many other living
options that constricted his freedom. We had no idea that he had
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headed to Las Vegas, until we received the call from the Las Vegas
coroner’s office that he had been hit by a truck while roller blading
(his form of transportation) just east of Las Vegas. Rather
miraculously, the coroner reported that Tadesse had no drugs or
alcohol on him when he was hit and killed.
Death intersected with Tadesse’s life a number of times, and a
number of different ways. About three months after he arrived from
Ethiopia, while driving past a cemetery, Tadesse looked at the
expanse of graves and said: “People hungry, People die”
Obviously he had seen far more people die during the first 18
months of his life, than most of us see in a lifetime . When Tadesse
was in kindergarten, his best friend Kiersten Bauerlie was diagnosed
with leukemia and died a year later. From age 11 to 17 Tadesse lost
all four of his grandparents – with both of his grandmother’s passing
at home in his presence.
Over the last five years of his life, Tadesse frequently stated, rather
bluntly, that he didn’t expect that he would live to 30, and that he
would never marry as a result of this premonition. Once I said to
him, “Tadesse, where does that fatalism come from?” To which he
responded with great intensity: “Mom, no matter what I say, you
can never really understand the reality of being a young, black man
in America. “
A time for Peace: (David)
In 2003, Paul and I made a road trip to Las Vegas to bring Tadesse
home. At that time, Tadesse was dancing and going to school in
Toronto. We had Tadesse fly from Toronto to Las Vegas, because it
was $250 dollars cheaper than flying into San Francisco. We stayed
at the El Cortez Hotel, one of the oldest hotels on the strip – and at
$25 a night – definitely the cheapest. We had a great time.
Tadesse, Paul and I always referred to it as the Vegas Road Trip.
The Thursday after Tadesse’s death, his surrogate older-brother
Wes, and Paul, and I made a parallel road trip to Las Vegas to bring
Tadesse home. We rotated driving – the 1700 miles road trip. We
stayed at the $45 Days Inn, which didn’t have quite the feel of the El
Cortez, but it was close. We were supposed to pick up his ashes at
the Hines Mortuary at 11:00 in the morning, but when we arrived
they told us that he wouldn’t be ready until 4:00. We had hoped to
get Tadesse and quickly get on the road back to Elk Grove. We
were tired and rather depressed—firmly in the grip of Tadesse’s
death. We then drove to retrieve Tadesse’s few belongings at the
Coroner’s office across town. The traffic was horrible. We got there
at 1:00 only to find that they had already mailed his few belongings
to us.
I said, let’s get a bite to eat . . . we just passed a Costco . . . we can
go to the food court. My son put his foot down, “No. We’re going to
go to a real restaurant. OK?” Fine, I said, you two pick it out. Paul
and Wes conferred with their cell phones and then said, the best
street tacos in all of Las Vegas is about a mile from here. The name
of the restaurant: “Bomb Tacos”. So we set the GPS and drove to
“Bomb Tacos”. When we got there I drove around the block looking
for the parking lot, which didn’t exist, so we parked in a pay lot.
As we walked into the restaurant we were met by lively Calypso
Steel drum music – which Tadesse would have loved. The place
was festive and colorful. We ordered a wide array of street tacos.
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The young man behind the counter: a trim, muscular, good looking,
African American guy in his twenties – looked like he could have
been Tadesse’s twin. He had this beaming Tadesse-like smile, and
Tadesse’s over the top friendliness. He kept coming up to our table,
as if there was something drawing him to us: “Everything OK. Did
we get your orders right”. Yes, we said, “It’s perfect. And this place
is perfect. And you are perfect.”
The street tacos were incredible. Soon the three of us were sharing
Tadesse stories – one after another. We ordered some more of the
best street tacos I’ve ever eaten from our Tadesse-like friend . . .
and suddenly for the three of us CHURCH broke out right there at
“Bomb Tacos” as we broke bread. It was a sort of Walk to Emmaus
moment at the end of the gospel of Luke, when Jesus sat down for a
meal with two of his disciples who where stuck in the grip of death –
and as Jesus broke bread with them -- their eyes were opened –
and the grip of death was broken as well. And as we broke bread
at “Bomb Tacos” . . . our eyes were opened, and our spirits were
lifted . . . and the grip of death was loosened.. Suddenly Tadesse
didn’t seem so far away, in fact he was right there in spirit, behind
the counter with that infectious smile and over the top friendliness.
The whole tenor of our road trip changed at “Bomb Tacos” – which
truly has the best street tacos in all of Las Vegas. We finished our
lunch . . . our communion meal . . . drove to the mortuary. Tadesse
was ready to go, and we hit the road.
And so . . . after a long and difficult journey… with incredible
soaring highs and deep and painful lows . . . Tadesse was
finally at peace . . . Tadesse was home. Amen.