Cameron Damschroder

To know Cameron was to embrace confusion, virtue, thoughtfulness, volatility, frustration, loyalty, but above all, love. True to form until the very end, we're still not sure exactly when or why Cameron said his last "Later, Bro”, but Cameron was never big on advance planning or details when it came to his personal life. That was part of the joy of knowing Cameron-you never knew exactly when he'd show up or for how long he'd stay, but it was always guaranteed to be a good time and a story that you could tell (in the right company) forever. Cameron was born December 28, 1991 in Columbus, Ohio, to Deshong Stith and Jennifer Damschroder, and eventually he wound up in New Mexico in 2007 at my doorstep. His mother always threatened the kids that if they didn’t shape up, she would send them to Grandma Ruth’s house (aka Boot camp) to live. So guess what—she was true to her word. I will say he was a handful and I can say that he shone like a beacon as much as he was a cautionary tale in his role as older brother to his younger siblings: Autumn, Stephanie, and Caleb. After putting his nose to the grindstone, he graduated from Santa Fe High School in 2009. Cameron then went on to further his education at Santa Fe Community College. However, he didn’t finish his formal education there, preferring instead to attend the School of Life, majoring in Hard Knocks. And anybody who knows Cameron knows he received a PhD from those harsh, hallowed halls. By 2010, he welcomed his beloved daughter, Izabelle, into the world. In 2013, he moved —for a minute to Louisiana, but the bayous and beignets proved no match for the majestic vistas of Northern New Mexico, and Cameron returned to Santa Fe. Depending on who you ask, most people would say that Cameron could sell anything to anybody. He had guile, he had game, and he had gab. And he was really good at negotiation—and from a very young age, too. One Christmas, when he was seven or eight and visiting us, my former husband took him to “sticks and bricks” on Old Las Vegas highway to purchase a Christmas tree. And all during the car ride over, he’s telling Cameron “Now remember, you have to negotiate. The tree salesman is going to give you one price, and you want to work a deal where we get it for less.” So, they get there, walk the lot, and Cameron picks the biggest tree. They ask the attendant how much, and the guy says $80, and Cameron rapidly countered: $7.00. The guy was laughing so hard at him, he gave it to him for $7.00. Personally, I think he was a great car salesman, too. He obtained employment with a variety of car dealerships around Santa Fe and Albuquerque, thanks to job referrals by his good friends Mike and Mel. Regardless, he just couldn’t quite commit to one dealership. Commitment was not his strong suit. More importantly though, the inner peace that returning to Santa Fe sparked in Cameron allowed him to experience a much more personal miracle—the start of a new family in 2015 with the birth of his children: Zayden, then McKenzie in 2016, Ezekiel in 2019, and Izrael in 2020. Cameron particularly enjoyed being with his kids as much as he could. He loved them dearly, was a kid himself with them really, and I know they will deeply miss their daddy’s rollicking, ruff housing, and loving nature. To get away from it all, relax, and get some perspective on his troubles, he occasionally went to help out at the Challenge New Mexico ranch (therapeutic horseback riding for kids with a variety of disabilities both mental and physical). When his life was literally full of crap, he would go out and pick up poop, talking to his friend, mentor, and Dutch Uncle, Mike So, horse manure provided him some good life lessons: one shovel full at a time. Cameron was passionate about everything though, from music, to horseback riding, to basketball, to TikTok video journal writing—film, art—and food. He especially loved my green Chile stew—that was the last dish I was able to make for him before he passed away. As for me, I’ll dearly miss those drop in visits, where he busts through the front door, heads towards the refrigerator and says “hey what’s for dinner—got any leftovers”? Do you want me to make some ribs? Or how are you guys, just checking to see if you’re alright. Do you have $10 bucks for cigarettes. Do you need any help in the garden? He always laughingly referred to himself as “my Hebrew slave”—no offense intended to anyone, that was just his salty humor. Cameron had a laid-back approach to life. He tried very hard to bring the disparate, hard-headed members of this family together so that they were all on the same page, interacting from a place of love. As this chapter of Cameron’s story draws to a close, he would ask that we all continue to do the same. But before I close, I would like to say a prayer from the book of Cameron, it’s about freedom: Gracious Heavenly Father, you took my Grandson’s hand and freed him from the bondage of pain. You knew it was too much for him and he couldn’t do this for himself. So you intervened to protect his soul from his demons. So that Cameron’s death is not in vain, and so that his death may save the life of a loved one or a dear friend, I want to direct these words to some of the people he knew who are living in the same darkness. Dear Lord, help free them to find the light in this world. Help them to pray for wisdom to lead them to the right resources and counseling. Help give them a distinct vision of a drug- or alcohol-free future. Help them to see clearly the lies of drugs and alcohol. Help them to set and achieve sound goals throughout their recovery process. Help them to let go of their fear as they chart their new course in life. Help them to begin anew. Surround them with your shield of love so that they may live a full, long life amongst people who profoundly love them and will gladly help them along the way.