"The future is merely an accumulation of present moments — moments I can choose to savor." Ari Diaconis, Modern Love
"We remember Ari, who excelled in so many ways and accomplished so much in far too little time." Shawn Gavin, Dean, Cornell Law School
October 15, 1984: Ari was raised in Park Slope, Brooklyn for the first five years of his life. Later, he returned to Park Slope as it became one of his favorite places.
When Ari was five years old, Dad, Mom, and Ari moved to Chappaqua, NY where Ari introduced himself to the world. He met his lifelong friends, including Marcus Cohlan and Emile Mosseri, rode the dog that broke his collarbone, banged on his first (mickey mouse) drum set, played baseball and soccer with his dad as soccer coach, made his teachers laugh and gave them heart attacks too, landed nose ollies in middle school and helped get a skatepark in town…it’s safe to say he was a quintessential 90’s kid. Nirvana and Sublime posters, cargo pants, guitar, and broken skateboards hung up on his wall.
With Mom, me, and eventually our baby brother, Ansel, Ari moved residences a few times before he was 15 years old. But his relationships and sense of self only grew stronger.
* * *
Remember Me
To the living, I am gone.
To the sorrowful, I will never return.
To the angry, I was cheated,
But to the happy, I am at peace,
And to the faithful, I have never left.
I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.
So as you stand upon a shore, gazing at a beautiful sea - remember me.
As you look in awe at a mighty forest and its grand majesty - remember me.
As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity - remember me.
Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, your memories of the times we loved,
the times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed.
For if you always think of me, I will never be gone.
-Margaret Mead
1999-2003: In addition to relationships, Ari cherished hard work at a young age. After his first job polishing silver, he became a caddy at Mt. Kisco Country Club starting at age 11, then worked at Ben & Jerry’s scooping ice cream, and the fish shop in Armonk.
No doubt, Ari was a trouble maker, and was eventually sent to boarding school. Even with his rowdiness though, his teachers adored him. One teacher who taught Ari in middle school wrote in his yearbook:
“It was a frustrating year, but I wouldn’t give it away for anything…”
When hearing of his death, a former high school teacher reflected on Ari:
"...Even as a teenager he held himself and others accountable to better the world and had a curiosity that was insatiable. As a teenager, you would just look into those eyes and see the enormous potential that he held in his soul. My 31 year career at Greeley is coming to a close, in the process of this decision I have spent time reflecting back on all the many teenagers that I have had the honor of working with. Ari was one of them. He will always be my unforgettable."
And another teacher said:
"As a young teacher, working with Ari helped define who I was to become both as an educator and as a person. I can still hear his laugh and sharp wit. I'm so sad to know that he's gone."
Take a look at Ari's high school graduation speech, as well as a short documentary he made about teen alcohol use (scroll down for both).
A short (and very honest) documentary on teen alcohol use that Ari made in high school.
Ari's graduation speech from Hyde School. June 2003.
2004-2008: Before attending University of Vermont, Ari decided to ride his bike from New York to Florida. By himself with one CD — Counting Crow’s “Hard Candy”. He stayed on an island that had wild horses and worked some construction there because he was low on money. He enjoyed it, but said the first week he cried himself to sleep with loneliness.
Once at University of Vermont, Ari studied economics, philosophy, and Afro-Cuban percussion. He remembers his friend, Chris Diaspara, bringing him to his first band practice at UVM. Some of the most fun Ari had in college was playing in The Soulvation Army — a 15-piece funk ensemble — and Roku — a contemporary jazz ensemble that played progressive math jazz. He played gigs, happy hours, and some weddings all over the Northeast.
After college he played in the band Rubblebucket, a group that is still alive and thriving today. Even though he was late in the music scene, his passion and sleepless nights of practicing led Ari to play at the Blue Note Jazz Club in NYC [read here], the Museum of Natural History, Smalls Jazz Club, and Paradise Rock Club in Boston.
A few other things Ari did while in school: he saved a dog that was drowning in Lake Champlain; he taught young children to play drums in camps all over Vermont; he mediated disputes as a volunteer in Burlington City Court; he made, gave away and sold beautiful ceramic bowls some of which his family still uses today; he canoed across rough watered Lake Champlain forcing him and his friends to tie the boats together; he became a pro at rolling cigarettes while driving his manual car; he broke his fingers playing congas and continued playing; he wore a yellow Nascar jumpsuit to his gigs.
You can listen to Ari play congas during this time on an experimental album he produced, Beyond Human Aid [listen here], which received a great review from All About Jazz [read here].
2008-2012: Ari returned to Brooklyn after college. He especially adored Park Slope because of its “exciting peacefulness.”
“I’ve spent hours in health and sickness walking the streets, staring into the parlor floors of countless brownstones, watching families finish dinner, admiring the architecture and interior design, dreaming of owning my own parlor floor one day.”
In his Vespa, Ari would drive from Red Hook to work in Manhattan. Often he would yell the whole way over the Brooklyn Bridge. He worked in real-estate finance, then as a janitor at Box Art while he studied for the LSAT on his lunch breaks, all the while making artwork — such as abstract pieces made with window washing squeegees as the paint brush.
After studying obsessively for the LSAT, Ari got a perfect score on the test. Only 0.1% of test-takers receive a perfect score. Just like music before, Ari found happiness and accomplishment in another passion: the law.
He then moved from Brooklyn to Ithaca to attend Cornell Law School. The day he moved out of Brooklyn, he cried as he drove his belongings over the Brooklyn Bridge.
2011-2015: Before law school, Ari traveled all over the country with his new found passion: he taught the LSAT in Los Angeles, Seattle, Baltimore, and Missoula, Montana.
He then went on to graduate magna cum laude and Order of the Coif from Cornell Law School. He served as an articles editor on Cornell Law Review and a bench editor on Cornell Moot Court Board. Ari received more than a dozen distinctions at Cornell Law, including the Law Library Prize for Exemplary Student Research and the Fraser Prize, which was awarded by vote of faculty and student body for “most fully evincing high qualities of mind and character by superior achievements in scholarship and by attributes that earn the commendation of teachers and fellow students.”
While at Cornell, Ari taught law courses to prison inmates, one who he watched become exonerated after more than 20 years in prison.
There were only two distractions from the law while Ari was at Cornell: playing squash, which was a minor distraction and good for his health, and an all encompassing one, which was Dunia, the love of his life (his words). He loved Dunia from afar until she introduced herself. The two of them had fun doing anything, and the joy they shared was so intense that it created joy for those around who witnessed them.
After law school, Ari served as Law Clerk to Hon. Edward R. Korman, District Judge, United States District Court for the Eastern District of New York. Following that clerkship, he joined Sullivan & Cromwell LLP as an associate where he had worked the past two summers. Ari next planned to serve as Law Clerk to the Hon. Rosemary S. Pooler of the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, but was unable to begin that position due to the progression of his neurological disorders.
Despite his short career in the law, Ari participated in the litigation or adjudication of nearly one hundred lawsuits. Ari’s legal scholarship has been read and downloaded by thousands of attorneys and cited as an authority by several Constitutional law experts and professors [see section, "Ari's Writings].
In Ari’s memory, Cornell Law School established the Ari J. Diaconis Memorial Prize. In June 2018, three inaugural winners were identified for outstanding achievement in the law. In recognizing the performance of those students, Associate Dean Galvin stated, “We remember Ari Diaconis, who excelled in so many ways and accomplished so much in far too little time.”
2008-2017: In a postcard to his friend, Ari wrote: "More than anything I would like to be an artist. Alas, I seem to have found tremendous success in the law. I will probably serve the world better as a lawyer."
Pottery was Ari's first art, in high school. By college his ceramic bowls were so professional he was able to sell them.
Then, painting. He started with abstract pieces using window washing squeegees as the paint brush. Around the same time he made countless pieces with remarkably thorough patterns and words, sometimes on massive 5x5 foot canvases. That work is so manic yet methodical it’s hard not to view it as a projection of Ari’s mind, which was both meditative and constant.
Ari had a project that spanned almost 8 years: “Letters Home to Brooklyn”, in which he sent postcards to his friend, Justin Monsen.
While Ari was at Cornell he also managed to star in a movie I made. Unbeknownst to him, I wrote the main character with Ari in mind — perfect genes, smart but a little off, athletic and handsome. I was thrilled when I handed Ari the script and he accepted. I and most other people who saw the film thought he did a great job, although Ari wasn’t impressed with himself. Judge for yourself (scroll down to see video).
Around the end of 2014, he started making digital abstract collages. He tagged his work "gradientfervor" on Instagram (@aridiaconis).
Ari was a lover of art too. He had a wide knowledge of art, especially modern, and he introduced me to many NYC museums and art spaces.
Message to Ari: I hope you’re making art, music, and enjoying the law, pain-free.
One of six pieces, each 5 x 3.5 feet, October-December 2014, Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.
2010, starred in a short film made by his sister, Alix Diaconis. Ari plays a professional sperm donor whose sister has a miscarriage.
March-May 2016: Ari got sick at the beginning of 2015 and within a few months he was diagnosed with Dysautonomia. He later was diagnosed with several other neurological disorders.
To say that Ari tried his best to stay the same, healthy person he was, is an understatement. He tried to continue working, but found it was not possible. He stayed physically active because it was good for his disorders. Inspired by all the young people who have POTS, one of his disorders, Ari felt a responsibility to help spread awareness for the rare disorder he and so many had. He decided to bike across the country with his sister to raise money and awareness for POTS, and his doctors at the Mayo Clinic encouraged him to do so.
From Florida to California, Ari and Alix rode, from March until May. They raised over $30,000 to go to Dysautonomia International, and they appeared in the news and radio, including two ABC interviews: channel 7 and channel 13.
For Alix, the bike trip was a wonder. Getting to travel America in, her opinion, the best possible method would not have been possible without her older brother (literally. Her father would have forbidden it otherwise). But getting to know Ari in such a close and intimate way was the best part about the trip for her. She had always looked up to her older brother as younger sisters tend to do, so to be asked to help him on this journey was a serious honor. Alix was not the only one bewildered by Ari’s ability to ride 60-80 miles a day; everyone they met along the way — the fellow bikers, POTS patients, gracious hosts — couldn’t comprehend it either. When asked, Ari couldn’t really answer how he did it. He explained that it was hard.
Ari also got really good at documenting the trip with photography. He was able to capture beautiful shots with my camera; these shots of new friends, animals, bike races or other outings, show a glimpse of Ari’s passion for living and genuine interest in other people, even when he was sick. This is how I, and many of us, strive to live. Unfortunately, Ari’s health worsened significantly after the Pedal for POTS.
2015-January 29, 2018: Throughout his suffering, Ari tried valiantly to continue living a full life. When he got off the plane from Costa Rica from a trip with his friends, he remarked on how it was paradise - even though we knew he spent most of the trip resting at the house. He continued to make those around him smile, laugh, and engage in meaningful conversations. His bright smile and words were contagious when he gave a best man speech (at Marcus Cohlan’s wedding) and officiated a wedding.
He continued to write op-ed’s; once he had to dictate to me because he couldn’t look at the computer screen [see section “Ari’s Writings”].
He continued making art - even just for a few hours a day - and music. Hear him kill it on the congas on "Betty Dreams of Green Men" by Guerilla Toss (also see it here).
The NY Times Obituary of Ari and comments from friends shows a sliver of his impact on the world. Just knowing his strength, pushed me to do my best everyday, and he influenced my life more than he knew. Every inch of Ari will be missed, but I’m so full of love and gratitude for getting to know him as closely as I did.
John Diaconis, Ari’s father, read this at Ari’s memorial service at The Cornell Club (You can watch the full service here):
“Epitaph”
When I die
If you need to weep
Cry for someone
Walking the street beside you.
You can love me most by letting
Hands touch hands, and
Souls touch souls.
You can love me most by sharing your goodness and multiplying your acts of kindness.
You can love me most by
Letting me live in your eyes
And not on your mind
And when you say prayers for me
Remember what the Law of God says
Love doesn’t die
People do
So when all that's left of me is love
Give me away.
-Merrit Malloy
