rod's passing
On August 14, 2026, Canada lost a great scholar and artist, Rod Michalko. Rod was an early and influential scholar of Disability Studies. He was a professor at New College at the University of Toronto. He went beyond the ivory tower and theorized through stories, inspiring us to think differently about blindness, disability, embodiment, and what it means to be this weird manifestation of a cosmic cell called “human.” He thought about these interconnected worlds with his partner, Tanya Titchkosky, also an incredible disability scholar at UofT. Tanya was my Master’s supervisor at OISE. I have deep respect for Tanya and Rod – two scholars who have kept it oh-so-real.
When I heard about Rod’s passing, I was deeply saddened. The last time I saw Rod was years ago. And well, that would be the last time I would see Rod. I wrote the letter below to simply express my sincere gratitude and thanks. Writers transcribe the world. Rod did it differently.
August 24. 2026
Dear Rod,
I am deeply saddened by your passing. You were one cool dude. I was one of the unlucky humans who did not get to know you nearly as well as some other folks. We do not have memories of kickin’ it in a café with fellow students somewhere around the Annex, talking about why the world insists on working the strange way it does. But we do have this one memory, and it’s a pretty big one for me: we briefly worked on editing one of your novels together. For that, I consider myself to be an incredibly lucky human.
If you remember, it was around 2021, when the world had closed for usual business. I lived about seven or eight floors down from you and Tanya in our Spadina/Bloor condo. You were working on your novel, Hang On To Your Hat, and needed someone to read it aloud so you could edit it. Tanya recommended me. I was down for the task. I would call you once or twice a week and read a chapter or so. Occasionally you would stop me mid-sentence and say, “Wait, Falak, no, no. Take that word out.” Other times, you would ask what I thought about a word or something J.D. (the main character) had done. I would offer my opinion with the enormous authority of someone who was not entirely sure, “I don’t know, Rod. That sounds a little…” whatever it sounded like, I told you. The remarkable thing was that you listened even though I had no clue what I was talking about. And off we would go again…sometimes wandering off to talk about the blues, existentialism, and Richard Wright’s gravitas vibes. It was always cool with you.
Rod, to say I learned from you during these phone conversations is an understatement. We were editing, yes, but you were still teaching. You would often tell me, “Trust your voice and stay true to your art.” Advice that I have applied very late, but like you said, “whenever you’re ready, you will.” Maybe patience truly is a virtue.
I never took a class with you at the university. You never sat on my master or doctoral committees. You were never formally my mentor. All that sounds rather unfortunate. It is. However, there are many ways of knowing a person, even if only briefly. One of the underrated things about life is that one rarely knows the lasting impact that a shared moment can have on someone.
Rod, I knew you as a writer and artist, and a pretty damn good one at that. Toronto and the world have lost an incredible writer, artist and thinker. Wait, let me edit the word ‘lost’ here. Legacy begs to differ. A writer and artist can never really be lost if the work continues to be read by old and new readers who continue to think about all the different ways of kicking normality’s ass.
As I sit here with your book, Things Are Different Here, the copy you gave my daughter, Sophia, when she was five and told her to read it when she got a bit older, I am smiling. I imagine wherever you are, you are probably jammin’ to the smooth and silky voice of Sam Cooke and still thinking about words that describe the human, all-too-human way of being. Either way, hang on to your hat, Rod, because isn’t it kinda cool how the artist eventually becomes part of the art they created.
Rod, it is an honour to have your work on my bookshelf.
Peace,
Falak
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