Name: Stanetsky Memorial Chapel
Address: Brookline, MA

Like Linda I met Jeff on Beacon Street in Brookine.  Was in the late 70's and with a larger group we served as clinic escorts. We helped collect signatures for what became the "access " law. From the Repro Amigos to BCAT ( Brookline Clinic Access Team) Jeff bought us blue jackets to wear complete with logo. I still have mind. We froze, sweated and got soaked together. You will be missed. 
From the AIDS Walk to Pride. We tried to make a difference

Jeff was my father's best friend, and became a good friend to me. As my father got sick and struggled with cancer Jeff was so supportive and did all that he could from so far away. When he came to visit he became like one of the family and I love Jeff. He was such a great man and I thoroughly enjoyed the conversations we had. He loved telling stories of his family, his cats, and, of course, his motorcycle. I'm disappointed we never got to ride together because I know how much he enjoyed that. Jeff will be missed by so many and his loss will be felt for a kong time to come. I am grateful we have the memories we do to look back on and smile.

Dear Naomi, Nathan and Jennifer,

Although we have never met, I feel like we know you well. Jeff adored you and told family stories often when we were together.

Jeff fit between our first and second sons in age and Jeff and my husband Cline had a special bond. They were both into computers and both were infused with curiosity.

We met about 2001 when Jeff began developing the Greater Boston PFLAG web site and I became a member of the board. It wasn't long before he and Cline began working together on a new website for GBPFLAG. Jeff did the the programming work, with Cline, and Cline's business partner Ramon, helping with the design.

Some of my fondest memories are hearing Jeff's motorcycle pull into our driveway and knowing that we would have a few delightful hours with him. He had the rare ability to deal with intense problems without losing his humor and joy in life. When we were clearing out of our big Concord house to move to Washington State, Jeff showed up to offer his help. The best help he gave was sitting with us at the kitchen table telling stories and solving the problems of the world---as we had done so many times in the past.

Who could forget him appearing at a Greater Boston PFLAG Pride And Passion fundraiser spiffed up in his brand new business suit, complete with a broadcloth button-down shirt and necktie. On his feet were his bright green Crocks. How could we not love Jeff?

We last exchanged emails with Jeff May 5. Even with his bad medical news he was enthused with his new apartment, the new computer he was building and was making plans for his new motorcycle. We were concerned about his health, but unable to wrap our heads around the possibility of our world without Jeff. The news of his death hit hard. Our hearts are with you as you gather all the stories about Jeff. We join you in sorrow.

I first met Jeff on Beacon Street in Brookline, where I lived at the time, sometime in the early 90s. I can't say which year exactly, or which month, although I can say with certainty that it was sometime prior to December 1992 when I met my husband, because Jeff was one of our witnesses when we got married. And I can say with certainty that it was a Saturday, because that was clinic day. Sadly, that ended up being the only period of time that Jeff and I lived close enough together to see each other on a regular basis; shortly after my husband and I got married, we moved down to the D.C. metro area. (Jeff helped us move, the mark of a true friend.) But during most of the 16 years I lived in Maryland, Jeff and I were in near-constant contact, thanks to the advent of email and AOL Instant Messenger and various other now-defunct chat programs. And of course living just outside D.C., we hosted him any time he came down for a march on Washington for one cause or another.

Then in 2009 my husband and I decided to move back to my home state of RIand Jeff helped us move back up again. He flew down to Maryland, helped us pack and load the moving truck, and drove it to our new house while we dealt with the closing on our old house. It was wonderful being back in New England and able to see Jeff more frequently. To repay him for his assistance, we promised him a visit to a local all-you-can-eat lobster buffet.

It wasn't too long after that he met Jan and started bringing her to visit us. He asked if, instead of the promised visit to the lobster buffet, we'd treat him and Jan to lobster at a less expensive local seafood restaurant we were quite fond of. That was Jeff all over, always wanting to do things for his friends. Guess we never will get to go to the Nordic Lodge now.

And then came the day he emailed me from the ER saying he was about to go in for an emergency colonoscopy, which led to the discovery of the cancer. Thanks to email, I'll never be able to forget that date: June 2, 2015. The subject line was goin in and the message was typical Jeff. hey Linda, weird news. He underwent two surgeriesand two hospital-acquired infections that landed him in the hospital for longer than either surgery. But then he started chemo and it seemed like everything was going to turn out ok. He was in remission, and he even rode his motorcycle down to meet up with my husband and me in Newport last August. But there were clouds on the horizon. The spot on his liver not only wasn't going away, but it was growing. The recommendation was for more chemo, with an additional drug that was supposed to attack the liver metastasis. It didn't. But through it all, Jeff went about his life as if none of this was happening. He continued working and even changed apartments.

Then came the day he emailed me to tell me he was in the hospital for what turned out to be the last time. The subject line was busy, and when he didn't answer my reply, I got scared. A couple of days later he called me from the hospital, and he didn't sound good at all; he was having trouble breathing. I felt like he was coming to terms with the inevitable as we spoke, at first saying he was trying to work out how to get his motorcyclewhich he'd ridden to the hospitalback to his apartment on the assumption that he wouldn't be able to ride it home when he was released, and that he planned to have a party once he got out of the hospital  *if* he ever did. Somewhere along the way he said that he felt he'd had a good life. Then I learned he'd be going back to his apartment under hospice care and I went to see him for what turned out to be the last time. And even then, after all he'd been through and all the pain he was suffering, he still never uttered a word of complaint or regret.

I, on the other hand, have many complaints and regrets. My #1 complaint: Cancer took one of the best friends I ever had. My #1 regret: That I was never as good of a friend to Jeff as he was to me. Jeff had a special talent for friendship, and I will always miss that now that he's gone.

Jeff Cowen was a brave soul and a mensch. I met him the first day I volunteered as a clinic escort in Brookline, MA, and for the next 11 years Jeff was a nearly constant presence on Saturdays, along with Judith, Heather, and a few others. He cycled the Boston-New York AIDS ride each year, and after an injury (probably the first year it was held, in 1995) switched to a recumbent bicycle rather than stop riding. He rode everywhere. I lost touch with Jeff when I moved to Singapore, but he'd be impossible to forget. We spent countless hours together, many of them freezing, chatting and joking to pass the time, interrupted by the occasional demand for our attention. In the time I knew him, Jeff never sought attention for himself, but looked outward, to see what he could do. The world is better for his having passed through it.

OBITUARY

Jeffrey Cowen

December 1, 1962 – June 19, 2017

Stanetsky Memorial Chapel

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