Courtesy of Dina Isakov
As college students we are often on auto-pilot: running from class to class, to practice, recital, volunteering, club-meetings, and work.
We frequently forget to step back and take a deep breath.
When everything becomes too much, when our eyes can no longer carry the weight of our reality and begin to close, most of us think to ourselves, “I am going to take a nap.” And so we scurry to our rooms, drop our bookbags by our door, cuddle up under our blankets, and lay our heavy heads on our pillows. We may let out a slight sigh as we subconsciously acknowledge the comfort of our pillow, the softness of the fabric, the gentle way it cradles our heads, and the familiar scent, all of which come together to create a safe space. As our eyes begin to close, we surrender our burdens to our pillow, allowing them to take us fully, no matter how broken, into their soft embrace.
Despite how hard our days might have been, our pillows are there, never tardy, never missing, always absolutely present. They are a constant, offering us a place of rest and renewal so that we can re-vitalize ourselves to tackle the challenges that are to come. This is how Jason was, he was our pillow.
As tall and mighty as Jason might have been, he was the most humble and down-to-earth guy we knew. He was gentle, and kind, and would never harm a fly. There were often times when we had bugs in our rooms, and we always called Jason over. Instead of smashing them like we insisted he did, he caught them and released them outside… most of the time.
Jason loved animals, which is why he worked very hard to become a wildlife veterinarian with a focus on conservation. He owned a pet hamster, DJ Cow. He named him this because of his white fur and black spots. DJ always bit everyone, but not Jason. We would always want to come over and bother DJ, but Jason reminded us that we needed to respect DJ’s privacy and keep in mind that he is a very small and timid animal. We always made fun of how considerate Jason was towards his hamster, but that’s just the kind of guy he was. After every meal at Harris, Jason would always grab DJ something. Whether it was a banana or an apple, Jason gave DJ the whole thing. A little hamster, no greater than 3 cubic inches was given a WHOLE banana. We always asked Jason why he gave the little guy a whole fruit when he was only going to nibble on it, and Jason just said he wanted DJ to be as happy as possible.
No matter who it was or what he did, Jason always put 100% into his personal relationships with the other person’s comfort and happiness in mind. But if there was one thing Jason loved almost as much as his friends, it was listening to music. And when it came to music, he didn’t just listen to it—he lived through it, allowing it to flow through every part of his being. He was rarely seen without his AirPods, lost in the sounds of his favorites: Clairo, Laufey, or Sir Chloe. He was committed to being the mysterious indie guy on campus and wanted to embody the “underground” persona. He often said this jokingly, but we all know there was more than a hint of truth to all of this. His passion for music spilled over into his friendships. He was the type to create playlists themed around the seasons, carefully selecting songs that resonated with the energy of the falling leaves, the ferocious winter storms, or the flowers blooming. His texts were dotted with thoughtful messages like, “This song reminds me of you,” or “This song is so us.” For many of his friends, hearing a new song often brings Jason to mind—he has this kind of enduring presence.
His passion wasn’t limited to just listening; Jason also adored live music and was always up for an adventure to see his favorite artists. Once, in a moment of impulsive excitement, he and a friend decided to buy tickets to see Mitski the night before the concert. Jason didn’t hesitate to drive from Connecticut to New York and back, even though he had work at 6 am the next morning. The late-night road trips he took with his friends became their own kind of concerts, filled with duets and conversations about their favorite songs to keep each other awake.
To maintain his mysterious-indie-like persona, he knew he had to dress the part. Every morning, Jason had at least 2-3 outfit changes before he left his room. Dressing in a grunge-like streetwear style was his way of expressing himself. He was always very creative and never bought anything new, only things that were thrifted. He claimed this added to his aesthetic.
While we always laughed at all these silly little things Jason did, we appreciated every part of him. From his silly laugh to his bright smile, and his obsession with Brooklyn, he made our days better. There’s so much more we can say about him, but there will never be enough pages that can perfectly encompass how special Jason Askri was. He will forever live in our hearts, and we are glad we were able to share just a part of him with the Conn community.
We miss you Jason, and we’ll make sure to keep singing, smiling, and dressing up like you would have wanted us to.
With much love,
Your shorter friends
