Ashlock, Daniel
Ashlock, Daniel Abram
December 14, 1961 - April 5, 2022Daniel Abram Ashlock died at the age of sixty on April 5th, 2022. He was a lover of discovery, a servant of truth, a mathematics professor beloved by countless students, a chair of bioinformatics who published an unprecedented number of collaborative papers, and a fierce advocate for social justice causes, especially math education, neurodiversity acceptance, and environmentalism. He is survived by his beloved wife Wendy, his brother Joe, and his children Charlotte, Peter, and Richard— who he would want you to know are all insanely talented.
Dan was raised in Lawrence, Kansas, where he learned a joyful love of nature and science from his father Peter (who taught entomology at the University of Kansas) and a delight in imaginative literature from his mother Jinny, who did her masters degree on JRR Tolkien’s works. His school guidance counselor complained that he was an “outlier” because he had both high grades and lots of fights.
Being an outlier in all sorts of ways was a lifelong source of pride for Dan, who became a high achiever without ever receiving support for his autism, anxiety, or trauma. His spiritual strength in the face of adversity came from how much he loved learning new things, a love he was incredibly successful at sharing with others. He received many awards for teaching, and his Calculus classes would frequently give him standing ovations at the end of the semester. “Dan taught me to believe in myself,” was the most-repeated comment on the occasion of his death.
Why was this teacher so successful at instilling self-belief? Dan believed the work of learning and research was a joy that everyone deserved to share, and it simply never occurred to him that anyone would decline to participate in that joy if it was introduced properly. For him mathematics was not simply numbers, but a kind of super-powered vision, a way of looking at the world. When asked how many times one should continue explaining things before giving up, Dan said, “42: or more, if the person is still trying to understand.”
Dan wanted everyone in the world to know that math is fun, not scary: and also that math sets you free. His blog Occupy Math was dedicated to that mission, and all subscribers will receive a notification when an edited collection of the most popular posts is developed into a book by the blog’s editor. Dan is also the author of several university textbooks on bioinformatics, evolutionary computation, calculus, and education.
Although he died painfully of colon cancer and pneumonia in an understaffed hospital, he died without regrets because he lived his life exactly how he wanted to live it. His work connected him to an international community of scholars, plus the researchers of the past and future.
Through his hobby as a game master for tabletop roleplaying games, he provided loving community and “decent meals” to people who really needed it. He loved cooking for people, telling them stories, and helping them solve their work problems. He took more pride in his co-authored papers than his single author papers for this reason.Although not fitting in could sometimes be a source of emotional pain, Dan believed it was worth it because his misfit status also gave him a creative mind that solved problems no one else could solve. When other misfits were mistreated, he stood up for them with a fierceness that bureaucrats, narrow minds, and other evildoers would find alarming. People knew they could rely on his generosity and advocacy. He believed that if creative and intelligent young people were not cherished, the consequences for the world would be very negative. He expressed this sentiment using his favorite Ursula K. LeGuin quote, “It is ill to leave dark the minds of the mage-born.”
As well as a fierce side, Dan also had a tender side. He loved playing with kids, talking to them in Darth Vader and Marvin the Martian voices, and tossing them in the air. He read his favorite science fiction paperbacks (particularly Heinlein) to his children for bedtime stories every single night of their formative years, in minimum rations of 13 pages. He was very attached to following the habits and rules of life he made for himself, to the point where when his wife said, “I wish you made me tea more often,” he religiously made a cup for her every single day.
En lieu of flowers, please go to the University of Guelph donation page and type, “Mathematics,” into the “Browse Funds” box, select, “Department of Mathematics and Statistics Highest Priority,” and check the box that says, “This gift is in honor or memory of someone,” entering Dan’s name. You can also remember Dan by patiently explaining your area of expertise to someone, and expressing your enthusiasm and belief that they can join you in your joy. A celebration of Dan’s life will be scheduled after the current COVID surge.
