D eath lurks all around us. It’s part of life. So much so that we’ve allowed ourselves to become numb, maybe even uncaring. Every day we confront the incomprehensible, as the numbers to die in this pandemic tick, tick, tick, always upward. The COVID-19 virus claimed its fair share in 2021, but so did gun violence, car crashes, cancer, and other long-term illnesses. The year took friends and sources. The famous and the ordinary. Inspirations and scoundrels, and a lot of people who were a bit of both. But death’s finality can also be a beginning. In the blockbuster film Gladiator, the protagonist Maximus says it best: “What we do in life echoes in eternity.” This is the story of some of those earliest echoes from the ones who departed the Phoenix stage in the last 12 months. Gone, but by no means, forgotten. Never that. Arizona, Vega was a dedicated public ser- vant in almost any way you can be: He was a firefighter, an airman, an instructor in state prisons, and a longtime member of the civil rights organization League of United Latin American Citizens. He worked as a grade-school teacher and a minister. After receiving his doctorate at ASU, he eventually joined the school as faculty, leading its Community Documen- tation Program in the Hispanic Research Center. Of all this, Vega’s most enduring legacy 16 Santos Vega September 6, 1931-January 2, 2021 Dr. Santos Vega, professor emeritus at Ari- zona State University, novelist and histo- rian, died at 89 in January, just two days into the new year. Born and raised in may be his archival research — his commit- ment to preserving and capturing the his- tory of Latino communities in Arizona. He wrote several volumes of Mexican-Ameri- can history, carried out historical surveys, and served on preservation boards. His work carries the understanding that the preservation of history is deeply important for communities of the present. Vega wrote of these interlocking goals in a volume documenting the history of Mexicans in Tempe through decades of photographs: “They reached for the past to tie the present and future together,” he wrote of his community, “in a life in daily Paul Westphal November 30, 1950-January 2, 2021 Paul Westphal took the Phoenix Suns to the NBA Finals twice — as both a player transformation.” Last fall, the city held its annual His- panic heritage festival in Vega’s honor. He leaves behind nine children, 23 grandchil- dren, and 24 great-grandchildren. KATYA SCHWENK and a coach. On January 2, 2021, he died in Scottsdale of a brain tumor at age 70 — just five months short of seeing the team he loved so dearly accomplish this feat a third time. He was diagnosed in August 2020. For the Suns, Westphal was a good luck charm. In 1976, his first year on the team, he took the franchise to its first-ever Finals appearance. Westphal was critical in Game 5 of that series against the Boston Celtics, which is often called “the greatest game ever played.” But don’t call it beginner’s luck. In 1993, his first year as head coach, he propelled the Suns to their second con- tention for reign at the sport’s highest level. At the conclusion of his playing career, Westphal continued to make an impact on the Valley when he coached at Arizona Christian University in Glendale and Grand Canyon University in Phoenix, lead- ing the Antelopes to an NAIA national title in just his second year. A favorite of the decorated player and coach, radio personality Rush Limbaugh died just days after Westphal did. Limbaugh once said, “I can’t tell you how wonderful it has been to make such good friends as Paul Westphal.” ELIAS WEISS JAN 6TH– JAN 12TH, 2022 PHOENIX NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | FEATURE | NEWS | OPINION | FEEDBACK | CONTENTS | phoenixnewtimes.com
