July 12, 2005
Ms Jochnick-
I would like to express my most heartfelt condolences at the death of
your husband, Nate. I saw the article in the Post today and felt just
completely dumbstruck. I knew Nate from my time as a DC bike
messenger, and he was one of those presences that made me feel lucky
to work in the industry. He was a consummate professional as well as a
warm, unpretentious, good-hearted man. I could talk to him about
anything and be rewarded with his insights, but of course it was when
the subject turned to his work in the human rights struggle that he
really shone. It was always a wonder to me, on days when it seemed
like enough of an accomplishment to just get up and through another
day on the bike, that this man was going home and taking more time out
of his day to help people he didn't know on the other side of the
world. He was really one of those people who, in a quiet, unassuming
way, was helping to change the world for the better.
In the messenger community, we are separated from our colleagues for
most of the day, and get to know one another in little intervals:
waiting at a loading dock, signing in at an office building, passing
one another at a bike rack. Once in a while we get together for a race
or a party, and that is when we get to find out a little more about
each other. Nate, to me, was one who constantly surprised me with the
depth of his character- someone who made me feel that under the
surface of ordinary life there were people who were doing great
things. The last conversation I had with Nate was characteristically
eye-opening. I was walking to the office building I work in now and
met him coming out of a building at 21st and L st NW. We chatted, and
he asked me how the road racing was going (this is what I am known for
among the couriers). I had some good results last season and so was
feeling pretty good about it, and I gladly reeled off a few stories
about my little successes. Nate was -again, characteristically-
receptive and encouraging, and congratulated me on my victories. Then
I asked him what he had been up to. He proceeded to, in his low-key
manner, fill me in on the work that he had been doing for human rights
and for ETAN: traveling, organizing, writing, campaigning. When he got
done bringing me up to date, I felt in a sense very small, because the
racing that I'd been doing seemed so frivolous in perspective. But I
didn't feel diminished; he was never, ever overbearing or
holier-than-thou. It was just that in his own down-to-earth way he had
given me a glimpse of a wider perspective, and shown me once again
what a real accomplishment is: helping other people.
I was not close with Nate, nor could I ever expect to meet him at a
regular time or place; our relationship was one of happenstance.
However, I think that I will, as the world will, feel his absence
quite acutely. -John Whittington
PS- I would like to publish a short remembrance of Nate on the
District of Columbia Bicycle Courier Association's new website, which
I am currently developing. I will send you a link once the page is up.
If you would like to send a picture, or direct donations to a charity,
please let me know.
Thanks- John


July 12, 2005
Nate was a friend for over 30 years and will be greatly missed by all who knew him. He was a kind and gentle person, who had the courage to do right and always help the underdog. The world is a poorer place without him.
Don Bonsteel (Catonsville, MD )

Monday, June 20, 2005
RIP Nate Osborn

On Thursday of last week, at 2:30 PM, my friend Nate Osborn died from complications related to cancer.

I met Nate through work with the East Timor Action Network, and he was one of the most devoted activists I've known. He was a "long hauler" -- he was involved for as long as I've known about East Timor; he served with the International Federation for East Timor's Observer Project; and he constantly gave his time to the endless list of tasks facing ETAN/DC.

Nate was also an indefatigably positive person (I can't recall a single instance of his having bad feelings toward anyone), and radiated a calm reassurance. He had a deadpan sense of humor, and took delight in the little things of life. After several hours of discussions and "decision making" in a conference room, Nate would lead the assembled ETANers through Tai Chi exercises to help us relax. Even after Timor Loro Sa'e won its independence and many ETAN activists turned toward other pressing concerns, I knew I could expect to see Nate at our national meetings, and I always looked forward to seeing him.

Nate was also one of the only ETAN folks who ever gave me feedback on my music. At one ETAN gathering back in the day, I brought copies of my album Viva Timor (now out of print), and sold them for $1.00 each. Nate grabbed one up right away and the next day (it was a 2-day gathering) told me how much he enjoyed it. He asked about the process I used to make the tunes, and every time I saw him, he asked about my latest work.

Good knowing you, Mr. Nate O. May you be at peace wherever you are.
Eric
Posted by djochnick at 10:22 PM

A Local Life: Nathan Osborn
Bike Messenger Traversed City, Strove to Improve the World

By Louie Estrada
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, July 10, 2005; Page C10

In the bedroom of a condominium just south of Logan Circle in Northwest
Washington, an old racing bike lies twisted on a sofa behind a collage
of pictures propped on an easel. For many years, the bike belonged to
Nathan Osborn, who until March rode it on the city's streets, weaving
through traffic, picking up and delivering packages like a modern-day
Pony Express cowboy.

Osborn, who went by Nate, was a bike messenger with Dynamex, a
transportation services firm, which moved its local office from the
District to Arlington in January 2004. For most of the past year,
Osborn's Mondays began at 5 a.m. with an eight-mile trek to Dynamex's
warehouse in Arlington's Virginia Square neighborhood.

After helping unload the company's trucks to prepare for the day's
deliveries, he filled his own large, rugged shoulder bag with packages,
said his wife, Daphne af Jochnick. He'd check his manifest, then hit the
road again at 8 a.m., pedaling his way back to the District, where he
would spend the next six hours traveling across the city regardless of
rain, sleet or snow.

He briskly moved against the panorama of the Capitol, the monuments and
the offices of government agencies, law firms and trade associations. In
his 20 years as a bike messenger, he was in only one accident, his wife
said. He was struck by a near-sighted taxi driver and broke his
collarbone.

Otherwise, Osborn appeared as sturdy as the bikes he rode for work and
pleasure. At 5 feet 8 1/2 inches tall, he was a stocky fellow with a
square jaw and steely thighs. His long, straight brown hair was pulled
into a ponytail that swayed underneath his burgundy bike helmet.

"He loved everything about bikes: the freedom of riding, the workout,
the social interaction with people on the streets," af Jochnick said.
"He tried a regular office job once, briefly, but it wasn't for him."

A son of an agriculture economist with the U.S. Agency for International
Development, he was born in Portland, Ore., and grew up in Springfield
and Washington. He also spent time in La Paz, Bolivia, and Mexico City.
He graduated from Bethesda-Chevy Chase High School, where he played
football, in 1975 and from Alfred University, about 80 miles south of
Rochester, N.Y., in 1979. He received a master's degree in business
administration from the University of South Carolina two years later but
soon discovered an interest in becoming an agent for social change.

Over the years, his life became deeply entwined in the subculture of
bike messengers. He went to clubs to support his friends' punk rock
bands and competed against other couriers in formal and informal road
races that combined speed with orienteering skills. He also participated
in Vermont's Bread and Puppet Theater shows for political and social
awareness, along with other protests and demonstrations.

When he wrapped up his daily deliveries about 2 p.m., he would go to the
Washington office of the political and human rights organization East
Timor and Indonesia Action Network, for which he served on the executive
committee.

Osborn helped with activities large and small. He organized some of the
group's demonstrations at the Indonesian Embassy, wrote and performed
scripts for its street theater and kept its corps of staff members,
volunteers and supporters well fed at its fundraising events with
homemade pizzas and baked goods. He hosted visiting East Timorese
activists, attended national meetings in California and New York and
helped formulate the group's policy to raise awareness of the push for
independence in East Timor and for human rights in Indonesia.

"Nate was always interested in helping the underdog," said Karen
Ornstein, the group's Washington coordinator. "He was involved in East
Timor when it was not a mainstream issue. He was very dedicated to
justice and human rights."

In 1999, he served as a U.N.-accredited observer of the East Timor
referendum for independence. He spent about a month in Same, a town at
the foot of Mount Kabulaki. When some of the townspeople in Same learned
this year that Osborn had cancer, they sent a hand-woven banner stitched
with a get-well message.

The banner arrived after Osborn, 48, died June 16 at a holistic health
center in Tijuana, Mexico, where he had been receiving treatment for
sarcoma, a rare cancer affecting the connective tissue. The cancer was
diagnosed in April.

Af Jochnick returned to Washington with her husband's ashes in an urn, a
wooden box with an image of Jesus emblazoned on the side. It sits on a
table in a corner of their living room, near a vase of flowers and one
of Osborn's favorite books, a worn copy of William Blake's poetry.

On the floor are baskets, one of which is filled with strips of brightly
colored paper with handwritten notes of sympathy and reflections about a
man with a wry wit and gracious hospitality. One of them described
Osborn as a man who was "concerned with humanity and peace not social
status and social climbing."