Alden Edward Rohen

Following the death of her husband, author Joan Didion writes about loss and grief in her book, The Year of Magical Thinking. She tells the story of a mother whose son was killed while serving in Kirkuk. When officers came to her home to report his death, she thought that as long as she didn’t let them into the house, as long as she didn’t hear what she knew they had to say, her son would remain alive. I understand this mother’s thoughts, as well as all the examples of magical thinking that Didion talks about related to her own loss. My thinking is that as long as I don’t write your obituary, it might mean that you’re still with us, that we didn’t lose you all those many weeks ago. So please forgive me, my sweet Coh, for taking so long to get to these words. I still can’t bring myself to write an obituary – I’ve decided to write you a love letter instead, a love letter that relies on my own memory and the memories of family and friends to capture your life, your spirit, and your essence. Forgive me if I’ve gotten anything wrong, and know that this letter is founded on tears and grief, and laughter and love.

Dearest sweet Coh,

You left us on Friday, March 27, 2026, late at night when all was quiet in our home. Even though I was with you, only you would know if your death was peaceful. I hope it was. I take comfort in knowing that the painful months that preceded your death included the many joyful days you spent with your family and friends – including friends who truly are your brothers and sisters. There were tears and laughter as these folks gathered, all of that nestled within their love for you. I think that we often overuse the word love, but deep love lived in our home when all your people came together, and that’s reflective of who you were.

You were born Alden Edward Rohen on October 17, 1952, in Taylor, Michigan, where your parents, Cassie Eleanor (Bachus) Rohen and Alden (Aldy) Elwood Rohen, lived on Janet Street. (The significance of that street name would show up over 20 years later.) Both your parents left us too soon – Aldy in 1982 and Cassie in 1999 – but they imbued you with qualities that would make you who you became. From your father, you inherited a love of long conversations sitting in a workshop or in a campsite, sweetened by the smell of burning wood and the taste of beer, hoppy and homebrewed if possible. Cassie passed on to you her interest in politics, which you deepened throughout your life as you delved into the history of political systems and ways in which justice played out differently for different groups of people. You were passionate about these issues until you could no longer devote precious and waning energy to challenging systems supported by people filled with hatred and greed. The world became emptier when it lost your voice.

The years that you spent growing up in Taylor were enriched by the time you spent with your Bachus aunts and uncles and the many Bachus cousins who provided important relationships to you, an only child. In 1966, your family moved to Evart, Michigan, where your father had roots and where you had the opportunity to better know the Rohen side of the family. Evart is also where you made many friends, including those who would become your lifelong brother (David Van Burgel) and sisters (Kathy Scott and Barbara Van Burgel). Kathy has shared that your high school years illustrated your blossoming ability as a compassionate leader, shown in one example where you worked with administrators and other students to change the dress code so that it no longer restricted girls to dresses or boys to collared shirts. You told me not too long ago that you were especially proud of being an ally to girls in getting this changed.

After high school, you spent time at Ferris State University, but eventually moved to East Lansing, where you began working for ARA Services, rising from route driver to operations manager. I admired the risk you were willing to take several years after that when you decided to leave the corporate world and dive into a business of your own. You created AER Custom Sporting Equipment, a wholesale business focused on the components needed for building custom fishing rods. Fishing was one of your passions, but let me talk about another passion you found.

Your first impression of me (Janet Olsen) on that night we met in 1974 was that I was feisty (you saw me swearing vehemently at the man who had driven me to the party we were all headed for). My first impression was that you were pretty cute. Our initial thoughts eventually developed into chemistry and lust, and those deepened into love. On June 12, 1976, we had a low-key wedding ceremony with a few friends and family, and we settled into married life as you worked for ARA and I continued with school at MSU, where I eventually worked. We both worked hard, but we took good advantage of our vacation days and went on lots of adventures. We backpacked in the Upper Peninsula, Isle Royale, Ontario, Maine, and Wyoming – sometimes with just each other and sometimes with Dave and Kathy and other friends. It was with Dave and Kathy that we experienced wilderness canoeing in gorgeous places like Boundary Waters, Minnesota, and Quetico, Ontario, and cross-country skied in New Hampshire and Maine. We also had many great times at the rustic cabins in Michigan’s Wilderness State Park. I treasure all of those adventures with you, and I was also grateful for the times you went off separately on Canadian and U.P. fishing expeditions with your friends Art Beaudrie, Josh Beaudrie, Paul Sprunger ,and Jeff Garrity.

You also spent lots of time fishing with my father on Muskegon Lake and Lake Michigan, especially during those early years. Both my parents (Dolores and Oscar Olsen) admired and adored you – so much so that I used to joke that if we got divorced, they would get custody of you. It seemed like the only thing that would have made it better for them was for us to have children, and that eventually became true.

If you were smitten with me when we met, you were struck by lightning on the day we met our girls, Ashley (Keller), who was four-and-a-half and Kelsey (Hubbard) who was 17 months. In all the photos from that day, you looked almost inebriated, blown away, as you considered our good fortune of becoming a forever family with these two amazing children. We jumped into parenthood as full partners as our girls grew up. You became a soccer coach, igniting what would become a lifelong love of that sport, and you were instrumental in working with others to create a local soccer club and a high school soccer team. You also attended the girls’ basketball and volleyball games, band concerts, birthday parties and dance recitals. And you gleefully planned the best of our family trips, tricking both girls into thinking that we were driving to Novia Scotia for our vacation. When we crossed into Canada, you had to admit to the customs officer that we were headed to Toronto to board a flight to London, England. Alas, poor Kelsey, who had done quite a bit of research on Nova Scotia in preparation for the trip, accused you of lying to the customs officer before it sank in for both girls that we were indeed going to London, where we had a fabulous time.

We had some wonderful times when the girls were growing up – as well as some hard times. But we never questioned our decision to become a forever family, and you were so proud of the women our daughters have become. Both of them know how much you deeply loved our grandchildren – Ashley’s son Jeremy Easterbrook, and Kelsey’s children, Avaya Olsen, Alden Hubbard and James Olsen. And I know you regretted not being able to spend more time with them or to meet the child that Ashley is expecting. Please know that all of the grandkids will continue to hear stories about you as long as Ashley, Kelsey and I are alive.

Our family didn’t end there, and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention all the animals you loved. I’ve always felt there’s something very attractive about a man who loves cats, and you personified that by loving Bub, Spike, Tillie, Buster and your beloved Reena. I know that Reena misses you deeply, and I’m a poor substitute for the man she cherished. You also adored our dogs, Pete, Huck (I can still see him sitting in the passenger seat as you drove up after rescuing him), Abbey, Mindy and Glory. And then there were the horses, Dusty and Patty, although I wouldn’t use the word “adored” in describing how you felt about them. I could say that you put up fences for them and built them a barn, but the reality is that you did the fences and barn for me. I’ve often said that I took care of the horses because I loved them, and you took care of the horses because you loved me. And that will always make my heart sing.

You were an avid gardener during all of our married life – beginning with the tiny garden plot next to our first home, up to the greenhouse you built in 2015, and all of the beautiful gardens in between. Your gardens were lush and fruitful and not without challenges – darn those nearby black walnut trees and their poisonous roots! Every year, you painstakingly diagrammed what to grow, and across the years we enjoyed tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, spinach, carrots, parsnips, onions, leeks, beans, potatoes, sweet corn, popcorn, garlic, peppers and squash. And you generously shared this bounty with friends and family and became a founding member of the Bath Farmers Market, which continues today. Not long before you left us, you said that you’d like to see one more spring, to have one more chance to feel the earth in your hands. I look out the window as I write this and try to imagine you out back, bent over the garden beds, getting them ready. Maybe next year I’ll have it in me to pick up a spade and plant the gardens, but I’ll never be able to replicate your amazing ability.

I mentioned previously that I asked several friends and family members to share memories about you to help me write this love letter. Although each of them had unique memories, there were several commonalities about the man you were. They mentioned how knowledgeable you were about many things – often in ways that pushed them to want to learn more about issues. Your knowledge stemmed from your desire to continuously learn about things – whether it was about gardening or racing or soccer or fishing or political issues or justice and fairness or family history – and your curiosity was endless. They mentioned your ability to listen with tolerance and without judgment. They mentioned your ability to be such a good friend, one who was selfless and kind and always willing to help with no expectations of payback. And more than one woman mentioned your kind, sensitive, caring, and loving heart, words not to be taken lightly in a world where men are so often rewarded for not having those qualities. You weren’t perfect – no one is – but you were the best man I have ever known, and I’m confident that no one else will ever take your place as that.

I’ve spent the last few days going through all your tools, trying to cull the small number of tools that I might need from the many tools that you had used over time. It’s made me think of the conversation we had a few days before you died in which you shared your regret that you would never again hold a hammer, that you would never again be able to use your tools to repair or to build something. Please rest assured, my sweet, darling Coh, that the most important thing you ever built was the strong foundation on which your family and friends will continue to flourish because of who you were. We will love and miss you forever, and you will always live within our hearts.

And now, one final time, call Buster, call Reena. I love you –

Janet

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For those who need it, following is a concise list of Alden Edward Rohen’s people:

He is survived by his wife, Janet Olsen; daughters, Ashley Keller (Alec Keller) and Kelsey Hubbard; and grandchildren, Jeremy Easterbrook, Avaya Olsen, Alden Hubbard and James Olsen. He also leaves behind his mother-in-law, Dolores Olsen, and a long list of important friends and other family members, including David Van Burgel, Kathy Scott, Barbara Van Burgel, Art Beaudrie, Josh Beaudrie, Sandra Ridder, Gary Ridder, Phil Ridder, Jeff Garrity, Judi Teston, Jean Crawford, Carolyn Reinertson and Karen Pace.

He was predeceased by his father, Alden Elwood Rohen, and his mother, Cassie Eleanor (Bachus).

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Coh believed that excellent media coverage has always been important and even more so during our current political climate, and he was a big fan of Michigan Public media. Anyone wishing to make a memorial gift donation to Michigan Public to honor the memory of Alden (Coh) Rohen can do so online or via mail at Michigan Public, 535 W William St., Suite 110, Ann Arbor, MI 48103.