By Glenn Chapman, Staff Writer - Oakland Tribune, July 22, 1997, pp. B1-B2
A San Leandro man known for promoting peace in the East Bay was stabbed to death while vacationing in Athens, Greece.
The slain man was positively identified Monday as Dan Meadows, who turned 46 last month. Police in Athens are working to identify the killer.
Meadows, a fourth-grade teacher at Bentley School in Oakland, routinely used his summer breaks from work to travel. Meadows and his 13-year-old adopted son, Anthony, were in Athens when Meadows vanished from their hotel sometime late Thursday, said Pastor Jim Hopkins of the Lake Shore Avenue Baptist Church in Oakland, where Meadows was an active parishioner.
Meadows was stabbed to death and his body found on a shoreline near the city over the weekend, according to reports received by Hopkins.
A church member flew Saturday to Greece, where he identified the body and is arranging for it to be returned to the United States.
"Dan was a very important member of our church," Hopkins said. "We will always remember him as a man of deep integrity, an asset to the community and a true peacemaker."
Hopkins had known Meadows about six years. Meadows was a member of the board at the church's Lake Shore Children's Center and was a shaping force in the development of the center's Peace Academy curriculum.
The academy strives to teach children self-esteem and self-respect as well as respect for others.
"The academy celebrates multicuturalism and affirms the worth of each child," Hopkins said.
"Dan had a real understanding and passion for multicultural education."
Before his death, Meadows named some other parishioners as legal guardians for his son. Meadows' longtime partner, Gifford Douglas, died three years ago, Hopkins said.
Meadows was a native of Kentucky, and his body will be returned to his family there for burial. Lake Shore Baptist is planning a memorial service in the slain teacher's honor.
Meadows had lived in Oakland before recently buying a home in San Leandro.
"Dan was a trusted friend to a lot of people," Hopkins said. "I can't imagine anyone wishing Dan ill - he was a very gentle man."
Officials at the American embassy in Athens are monitoring the homicide investigation, said Nyda Beudig of the State Department.
By Elizabeth Fong - 8/18/2000
Only good things happen to good people. The Fates are rational. Only the sick and the old die. Wanton killing doesn’t happen. Surprises are pleasant. Childhood is innocent bliss. Or, at least that was what I believed in fourth grade, when Dan Meadows entered my life. Like a brilliant supernova, he brightened my universe for a fleeting moment, only to perish in the dark oblivion. I learned much from him as a teacher, but it was his death that changed me forever.
“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,” urged a poster mounted prominently in the front of the stimulating classroom in which Mr. Meadows taught. He could have assumed that we were a band of savages in need of constant discipline. He could have taken a negative approach towards teaching. Instead, he radiated optimism and a positive attitude towards life, praising us for our strengths. He believed that a rich sensory environment promoted better learning. He implemented his beliefs by providing a classroom full of sights, smells, sounds, and textures. Since he was allergic to chalk dust, he rarely resorted to the stiff, structured method of teacher writing on the board and students dully and dutifully jotting down notes. Instead, he circulated among us, engaging us in the process of learning by active participation. Mr. Meadows trusted us to maintain a high moral standard and perform at our very best. And we rose to his expectations. We developed self-respect and tolerance. Rarely did we violate his trust.
Benevolent and thoughtful, Mr. Meadows always remembered that his adopted son Anthony had a sweet tooth. On field trips, he always bought candy for Anthony out of his own money. He would buy some for us too. He spoiled us. Mr. Meadows was an endless fountain of love. He adopted a four-year old boy named Anthony from a drug-abusing family to dote on and share his love. He kept a deodorized pet skunk, rescued from the animal control. Somehow, he managed to adopt and love the outcasts. The year before he taught us, Mr. Meadows took an extended leave from teaching to care for his AIDS-afflicted partner, who eventually passed away. He welcomed us into his heart. I admired him for his generosity and his compassion. I looked up to him.
Teacher. Mentor. Second father. He filled all those roles for me. He knew how it felt to be different. He perceived the social chasm created by the intellectual differences between my peers and me. Often, I withdrew into myself and sought refuge in solitude. This was not foreign to him, for he had felt the same way growing up. He was gay. He consoled me with the fact that it was fine to choose solitude over popularity. He showed me that differences in people enrich the world. Growing up in a family where relationships were reserved, I did not receive much open affection from my parents. They rarely romped with me, only offering the obligatory greetings. Physical contact was unusual beyond my infancy. Mr. Meadows filled the gap by being an open and approachable friend to me. Mr. Meadows lavished his affection on me. He gave me a bear hug after my first sleep- away field trip. I loved him.
A month after the end of fourth grade, the shock came. Murdered. My ten-year old brain could not process the news. My tender heart could not bear the pain. Devastated, I had never felt this degree of grief. I had had other deaths in the family: an elderly great uncle, a sick cousin once removed, and a depressed first cousin. Since I was not close to them, I did not feel as much loss. In the mind of a ten-year old, only the old and the sick die. Mr. Meadows’s violent death in the prime of his life shocked me. I was unprepared to cope with this magnitude of sorrow. His death left an indelible wound in my heart.
When I finally could dam the river of tears and the swell of emotions, I gained insight into the cause of my overwhelming pain. The healing process began. I came to realize those closest to me could give the greatest joy and cause the greatest pain. Life is ephemeral. Life is unpredictable. The inherent randomness of our world causes calamities to befall even the best people in their prime. Brazen acts of violence exist in the world. Life is not entirely sweet. It strikes its most bitter blows when one expects it least. The pain strengthened the very core within me. I realized that pain is survivable no matter how severe. That summer, I lost my innocence.