I am proud alumnus of Fort Hays State University. I had a great experience there and made many friends that have lasted a lifetime. Recently I realized through tragedy, that some lifetime friendships don’t end with your own life, but theirs. I lost my friend Dr. Zoran Stevanov during a SCUBA trip to Santa Rosa, New Mexico over Labor Day weekend this year. There is not a moment that goes by it seems that I don’t think about him or remember something tied to Zoran. Who knew that my art history teacher my first semester at FHSU would have such a impact on my life.

I took Survey of Art history as did thousands of other students did from Zoran. As a newly married transfer sophomore I was excited to start my new life in a new city and a fresh set of classes. He may have mentioned fencing in his first class or maybe it was the poster on his door, but I had to know this man. As a farm boy who fabricated wooden swords out of sticks and lath, fencing is something I had always wanted to do. I would fence the next eight years under Zoran. I drove to Hays from Phillipsburg every Wednesday to fence for two years after graduating. I continued to fence post graduating until I moved away from Hays in 2010. Not a bad way to learn considering he qualified for the Olympic trials.

We were fast friends sharing many loves like fencing, art, adventure and travel. I looked up to him and hoped that I could accomplish the things that he had. (Although I knew I wouldn’t be an accomplished painter and photographer like he already was.) We went on road trips in his Shelby Cobra and visited art museums and galleries. When I finally became SCUBA certified in 2013 we made our first trip to the Blue Hole in Santa Rosa.

When my wife and I were expecting our first child, a girl, we were considering names and on a visit to his house he said, “You know the female version of my name is Zora.” It stuck. It was for one a perfect blend of his wife’s name Teodora and his and unique enough to stand out. Easy to spell. Later he he thought maybe it wasn’t a good idea since he was always the foreign kid growing up. I told him no one would think twice given more complex names that were in circulation.

He talked about retiring often, but never got around to it. I was trying to convince him to start painting again and to travel. We started talking to galleries in Lindsborg where I live to show some of his work. Zoran started to get excited about doing more art after a visit to an art auction in Hutchinson with me. We talked with collectors and artists and on our way back planned our next dive trip to New Mexico.

So many of my thoughts are tied to experiences with him. So many things remind me of him. And for some foolish reason I never thought I’d lose him so soon. There is a gaping hole at my Alma Mater and in Hays, Kansas. There is a void on the art community and silence in his house where is voice used to be. How can the Earth turn without Zoran Stevanov?

Yet it does.

My thoughts turn to what he has left behind. A family with big hearts and minds. A wonderful wife who is a as strong and accomplished as he was. Photos, paintings, sculptures and models that many have never seen.

Some day when we are all gone and our great-grandchildren forget why we have this painting or photo, a Stevanov will enter the art market. It’s our job to have told his story so that whoever has one of these works knows how important and special it is. Not just for how skilled Zoran was and how creative he was, but for what a tremendous person he was.

Such works should be prized for all time given how other artists leave conflict and destruction in their own lives. Zoran’s parents fled post WWII Yugoslavia when he was five to come to the United States. Zoran worked hard, had a family, earned his Ph.D., and made a comfortable life for them. He created the virtual program for the art department at FHSU and the FHSU Sabre Club. He taught thousands of students and made hundreds of works of art.

I feel it is my responsibility, as his friend to ensure that his legacy is preserved. I am working with the Director of the Sandzèn Memorial Gallery (Lindsborg), himself a student of Zoran, on a show of Dr. Stevenov’s works in the coming years. There is much work to scan and document, but these things I owe him for what he has given me. If I can give back to his memory then I think I can do our friendship justice.

Visiting Zoran usually started with a shot of slivovitz, Serbian plum brandy and a toast, “Ziveli”, to life.

Ziveli, Zoran.