Define resilience. Merriam-Webster provides two definitions including “the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress.” and “an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change.” My definition: Dan “Squid” Weckstein.
Define inspiration. One of Merriam-Webster’s definitions is “the action or power of moving the intellect or emotions.” My definition: Dan “Squid” Weckstein.
Define “Squid Strong.” Well, that’s in my uncle’s name itself.
I remember every second of the night of August 28, 2018. At around 7 p.m. that night, I got a text from my mom asking if I could call her. I did, of course, but I really didn’t need to to know why she wanted me to. I knew exactly what had just happened. My uncle, Dan “Squid” Weckstein, had passed away from GPM at just 44 years old.
Devastation, blindsided, sadness, shattered. I had all those emotions when I got off the phone. How else are you supposed to feel when your biggest inspiration passes away? And the worst part for me was up until the last few days before he passed away, I was convinced my uncle was going to beat GPM. The truth is I never knew how bad the cancer was, which was a good thing. I’m naturally optimistic, which is why I always thought he was going to beat it. Even when he was really losing his strength throughout the early parts of 2018, I just thought it was a bump in the road. It wasn’t until he was admitted to hospice care where the inevitable was inevitable that I came to the worst realization. But even when it actually happened, it was just hard, and still is, to process.
Amid all the emotions I had that night, one thing I was able to do was write the eulogy that I would deliver at my uncle’s funeral the following Monday. I attached it here for all of you to read.
My grandmother is a two-time breast cancer survivor, so when my uncle was originally diagnosed back in July of 2015 I thought that just like my grandmother my uncle will beat cancer too. I never once questioned that he wouldn’t, even as the rest of my mom’s side of the family realized his condition and started making funeral arrangements in August of 2018. The truth is, my uncle did not lose to cancer. Why? Because as the late great Stuart Scott, one of my sportscasting idols, said, “You beat cancer by how you live, why you live and in the manner in which you live.” I want to now take you all on a run “Where the Streets Have No Name” to look at the resilient, inspirational, and “Squid Strong” resolve my uncle showed in his more than three-year brain battle with GPM.
Let’s get off the block with resiliency. My uncle was so resilient in his battle that I remember I had to remind myself one day that he actually had cancer. Remember how Merriam-Webster’s definition of resiliency included “easily adjusting to misfortune or change?” That’s what my uncle had to do, but it didn’t stop him from being who he was before he was diagnosed. He was still a great father to my cousins. He still traveled with his family. He still worked out. He still went to Bengals and Indiana men’s basketball games. He still went to U2 concerts. He still fulfilled his role alongside my mom on your personal real estate team, Team Weck. He never let cancer affect his purpose in life. Ever. Sure he had to make some changes, but not any noticeable. Again, I had to remind myself once that he actually had cancer. That’s just how positive he was in his battle.
I remember when he and I had lunch at the Men’s Grill at the Dayton Country Club back in January of 2018 him talking about Collin and Casey and the ways each of them approached school. Thinking about that now, I’m realizing that that is an example of how he never let cancer get in the way of being involved with my cousins’ lives and, in this case, be a parent and understand how each of them approached school so he could put them in the best position to succeed. After all, he was in education for over 20 years.
That lunch I had with him was mainly for him to talk with me about where I was, which was going into the second semester of my first year here at the University of Cincinnati. He wanted to give me some advice on the show that I co-host, Sports; “Any Way You Want It!” He loved that show. I always looked forward to “Dan from Dayton, Ohio” or “Mo Squito from Los Angeles, Colorado” or even funnier “Sally VanSloozenHoozen”- I’m going to say I spelled that last one correctly- to call in and talk about the Bengals or Indiana men’s basketball. That’s why when my mom told me later that January that he wasn’t feeling well I was surprised, upset and anything else in between because that’s why he wouldn’t respond to my texts about the show or call in. It was from there he had major surgery in February at Duke and, sadly, when he really started to lose his strength. Man, that was so sad to see when I was at his Lake Michigan house with him over the Summer. That’s when I had to tell myself he had cancer. But I don’t want to remember him like that. I want to remember him by everything he says in this video about what it means to be resilient.
I can’t even begin to describe how inspiring my uncle was. He became my biggest inspiration 10 days after his life-saving seizure. That was the day of the first surgery that would determine whether or not he had cancer. It was also the first day of Cross Country practice my junior year of high school, so without hesitation I grabbed my Indiana Hoosiers hat and went to run “Where the Streets Have No Name.” That day was the first day where I was always inspired by him countless times at Cross Country or Track practice. Mile repeats on the track? That’s the beast of all workouts, but it didn’t even compare to the battle my uncle was fighting. Eight 400-meter sprints where the time you ran was your rest time? Eventually I just mentally prepared myself and just did all eight, just like my uncle resiliently battled brain cancer. Saturday night, under the lights at Centerville High School where I ran varsity for the first time? I dedicated that race to my uncle because he went to Centerville, because he ran cross country there and, ultimately, because he was, and still is, my biggest inspiration. Any hardships I faced at Cross Country or Track didn’t even compare to the hardships my uncle faced. What I was battling on any given day at practice wasn’t life-threatening. It was just something difficult, a challenge. But to give anything less than your best is sacrificing the gift- thank you Steve Prefontaine!- and I took full advantage of it, always being inspired by my uncle’s “Squid Strong” mentality.
Here’s the thing about “Squid Strong:” It’s easy just to say it. It’s another thing to show it. When anybody gets diagnosed with a disease like cancer, I think it’s just common to put their name next to the word strong. When “Squid Strong” was created within my family, it just made sense. And it would have been easy just to wear the shirt and explain why if somebody were to ask. But I’ve never been someone who just does the bare minimum, and my uncle most certainly never was either. He was “Squid Strong” because of his resiliency, because of his positive attitude, because, sheesh, he treated cancer like it “ain’t no thing”- that’s one of his famous lines. Again, I went the longest time without even thinking that he had cancer. I was just so focused on the positives that he conveyed during his battle, especially him becoming my inspiration behind everything I do in life as a sportscaster, UC student and athlete.
I carry my uncle’s legacy on my right forearm every day, as evidenced by what this gray bracelet says: “No One FIGHTS Alone.” My right forearm has written so many, and will continue to do, spotting boards for sportscasting. It has started my running watch in races. It has gripped dumbells, barbells and many other objects in the weight room. It has energized fist pumps during Cincinnati sporting events and, while I may not have found what I am looking for yet in that special girl- or as I like to say “Queen to the City”- will open the box that carries the ring when I get down on one knee and ask her to marry me. And when we both say “I Do,” we will walk down the aisle as my right forearm and hand lifts her left hand into the air as one. She will marry into our amazing family, and while she sadly won’t ever know the amazing man my uncle was, she will feel his spirit and legacy when her left hand holds my right hand.
But the most meaningful thing my right forearm will do is carry the legacy of my biggest inspiration for as long as I grace God’s green Earth. I believe that’s what I was put on this Earth to do: carry on his legacy. Sure I have aspirations of making it in sportscasting and owning a sports bar on the side of my career and, of course, marrying my future to the Queen City and being a father to my future children. That’s all going to happen. But I firmly believe that God’s plan, and my purpose in life, is to do all those things while carrying on and fulfilling his legacy.
I wear my gray bracelet just about everywhere, even while sleeping. When I am writing notes on a spotting board, I can look down and see it and feel empowered to continue to work hard and make my uncle proud. When I’m at a Bengals game, I see it and know my uncle’s spirit is all around Paul Brown Stadium. It will be lifted towards the heavens when the Bengals win their first Super Bowl, and I know my uncle will be with me when that happens. I’ll feel his spirit and the emotions that will come with that moment.
Tomorrow, I will be commentating my first ever Cincinnati Bearcats football game as they take on UCLA in prime time on ESPN. When I put my headphones on tomorrow night at 6:35, I know I’ll have my mom, my best friend, listening. I’ll have my grandparents, who I am very close to, listening. I know I’ll have my Uncle Jerry, who has become my father figure, listening. I know I’ll have my Aunt Kellie listening, who, my goodness, what a saint she was during my uncle’s battle with brain cancer and is one of the strongest and toughest people I know. And I will hopefully have other members of my family and friends of mine listening as I call a football game for a university, that I am proud to be affiliated with, in a city that I am proud to call home. I also know that from above, I will have my biggest inspiration watching over me. I know he will be proud. I know he is proud of me every day, and I don’t ever have to question that.
One year ago tonight was probably the worst night I, and the rest of my family, have ever experienced. It hasn’t gotten any easier being without Uncle “Squid.” Everybody, I think, is still learning how to live without him. I’m not sure if any of us will get over what happened. I know I never will, and it’s okay to say never in this case. But we’re all glued to each other, and we all carry on with Uncle “Squid” well within our memories. He is here all around us. His spirit and his legacy live on. While writing this blog post definitely was emotional, it also allowed me to, as I mentioned in my eulogy, think about all the memories of him.
Let me be Frank and Cut to the Chase 