Some Words About Amos….

Today marks five years since Amos Mortier disappeared from his home under still uncertain circumstances. Much has already been written about the investigation, Amos’ marijuana dealing and the subsequent federal indictments handed down against some of his closest friends. However, little is known publicly about Amos himself beyond these tragic endnotes. 

Over the last two years, Amos’ friends have shared with me numerous stories and anecdotes about their times with him. There isn’t enough space here to recount them all, but one thing everyone has touched on is Amos’ love of food. 

On the surface, one’s love of eating hardly seems like a noteworthy detail. But Amos didn’t just enjoy eating, but agriculture in general was a subject of persistent fascination for him. Though it’s just one of many things that define who he was, the leading role food played in his life is a fitting topic in this season of harvest and gathering together. 

It’s an aspect of his sanguine nature that to me encapsulates his humanity well. 

The offering and sharing of food is one of the oldest traditions there is. The proverbial feast is a backdrop to some of history’s epochal moments and literature’s most enduring allegories. Food factors heavily into the organizing principles of many religions. It’s often a pillar of cultural identity. Even today, meals are central to so much of our civic, business and romantic lives. We feast in times of celebration and mourning. There is even a peculiar fascination with what condemned inmates ate for their final meal. 

Amos was a torchbearer of this tradition. Especially in this modern age where so many people eat unhealthily, on-the-go, and in isolation, Amos viewed mealtime as a means of bringing people together, of nurturing friendships and promoting personal well-being. 

In addition to the fresh and natural foods he loved, Amos also understood that good company is essential for a balanced diet. Amos didn’t bring people into his life because they were accessible or had something to offer. He did so because they meant something to him. I get the sense that the dinners he prepared for his friends and family were, for him, an ultimate gesture of respect and appreciation. It was an opportunity for him to illustrate the benefits of eating well, the virtues of respecting the environment, and the joy that comes with celebrating friendship. 

And as I mentioned before, he did this unpretentiously. He didn’t preach his politics, but lived them simply and quietly, and in doing so he earned the admiration of those around him. 

In a few weeks most of us will gather around the dinner table with family and friends to give thanks for the good things in our lives. Amos, in my mind, imbues the very values we cherish about Thanksgiving. Generosity, compassion and gratitude are virtues he imparted in his day-to-day life. There’s little doubt that the quality of his character more than the food made the dinners he hosted for his friends so memorable to them all. 
 
But there was a deeper respect underlying Amos’ passion for agriculture. For him, food was also a matter of social responsibility. He possessed an acute awareness of how food production relates to the environmental issues he cared about, and consequently bought his meats and vegetables from local farmers, and spent his money at restaurants and groceries that did the same. 

In Milwaukee, he volunteered to helped inner-city kids build rooftop gardens. In Madison, he would hand out literature on sustainability during the Saturday Farmer’s Market. He tried his hand at organic farming in Western Wisconsin, but the land he purchased wasn’t suited for such use. (One can only imagine how ecstatic he’d be about the Obama family’s White House garden and the subsequent popularity of fresh foods.)

Eventually, he decided to decamp for North Carolina where there is a college that would help him achieve his dream of growing organic produce. But for reasons that still aren’t clear, Amos put this plan on hold and remained in Madison. 

I’ve often marveled at how wonderful it must’ve been for those who knew him to have Amos as a friend. Despite his legend in local folklore as a marijuana trafficker, Amos stood for many things that people everywhere can learn from. Even something so simple as calling a friend or relative to invite them for dinner. Or even to just let them know you care. These are things we all could do more often. 

Though he isn’t here, I believe Amos still has a lot to offer this world, which, in his life, he cared so much about, as well as the people in it. Let it be for these things that he’s remembered best.