Kenneth Seeber

KENNETH CARL SEEBER August 24, 1964 – September 13, 2019 Ken Seeber made friends everywhere he went. He found them in the hallways of Paris High School in his south-central Illinois hometown; the classrooms of Southern Illinois University in Carbondale; the newsrooms of SIU’s Daily Egyptian, the Southern Illinoisan, the (Manitowoc, Wisconsin) Herald Times Reporter, the Midland (Texas) Reporter-Telegram, the Rockford Register Star, and the Des Moines Register; the neighborhoods where he lived; the restaurants he frequented. They are young and old, short and tall, liberal and conservative, mischievous and mild-mannered, newspaper novices and veterans. They have one thing in common: the embrace of a big-hearted, soft-spoken man who knew how to put people at ease, make them laugh, and connect through similar interests. Now all those friends, along with his family, mourn his sudden and devastating departure from their lives on September 13, 2019, following complications from surgery in Des Moines, Iowa. He was only 55. Celebrations of his life are being planned in the two places he spent most of his years: Southern Illinois and Des Moines. Ken is survived by his brother, Glenn Seeber of Murphysboro, Illinois, and by his late sister-in-law Rhonda’s family: her mother, Jewel Baker; Susie Duboe-Bryant; Howard Duboe (Patti); Sheryl Duboe-Taubin; and many nieces and nephews. Donations can be made to ACS-Relay for Life, c/o Patti Duboe, 179 Levan Lane, Murphysboro, IL 62966-4477 or to the Animal Rescue League of Iowa, Inc., Attn.: Donations, 5452 N.E. 22nd St., Des Moines, IA 50313-2528, or visit arl-iowa.org and click the green Donate button at the upper right of the home page; on the next page, check the box indicating it is a memorial gift. Ken grew up in Paris, Illinois, where he was born to Frank and Petrea Seeber on August 24, 1964. He looked up to his big brother Glenn, who was 12 years old when Ken was born. Ken’s fond memories of his youth included sailing on West Lake when Glenn visited home and hanging with his buddies at the Surf Club, the local swimming pool. He enjoyed watching “Night Gallery,” a sci-fi program on WILL-TV featuring old movies and TV shows. He loved the cutting-edge sci-fi shows of the era, including “Space: 1999” and the original “Star Trek” series. Ken was a meticulous man in all things—getting names and dates right in newspaper stories he edited, ensuring the lighting was just right for a photograph, preparing for a road trip by uncovering the perfect route and best stops along the way, or researching the right brand of fertilizer for his lawn or speaker for his sound system. This eye for detail and precision was first honed in high school through photography. In the 1982 Paris High School yearbook, Arena, he listed his ambition as majoring in film production at SIU and moving to California to work for Lucasfilm, Industrial Light and Magic, or Apogee, Inc. At SIU in Carbondale, he embraced the college experience with gusto, finding creative ways to have fun, such as creating intricately horrifying Halloween costumes for the university’s massive annual celebration and joining buddies in secret adventures in the school’s steam tunnel system (adventures that were suspected but never proven by campus police). Journalism continued to call him, so he took pictures for the college paper, the Daily Egyptian, and served as stringer for the Associated Press before being hired by the Southern Illinoisan. There, he showed his versatility by moving from photographer to feature writer, reporter, and city editor. He combined his journalism skills with a deep, abiding love for Southern Illinois’ history, scenery, and citizens. He reluctantly left the region in 2004 to take a copy editing job in Midland, Texas, and started a new family of friends there in the space of just a year. He enjoyed showing his non-Texan friends the lizards, tumbleweeds, and desert landscapes of his new home. Opportunity called him to Des Moines, where he started a new adventure close to good friends Anne Marie and Kevin Cox in the capital city of Iowa. He spent three years as a copy editor at the Des Moines Register, starting yet another family of friends while becoming a doting uncle to the Cox children. One of many layoffs by the Register’s parent company prompted Ken to take a position at the Rockford Register Star from 2008 to 2011, but he returned to Des Moines to work for Gannett’s design studio and, later, the USA Today national wire desk. When he died, he was just four months into another new adventure, this time at The Stelter Company, a Des Moines-based marketing firm that publishes print and online content for universities and other nonprofits. His good friend Kevin needed a copy editor who could learn new processes, polish copy quickly, and handle challenging workloads. He knew just who to hire. Ken was always open to new people and experiences. His hobbies included watching and critiquing many genres of film and television, creating videos with drones, and cooking like a gourmet chef. His culinary tastes ranged from the down-home barbecue of 17th Street Bar & Grill in Murphysboro up to the high-end Chicago restaurant Topolobampo, run by one of his idols, chef Rick Bayless, whom he interviewed while working at the Rockford Register Star. Though he lived fairly simply, he did have a love for some of the finer things. He meticulously researched and selected the best cookware (All Clad), knives (Wusthof), cookbooks (America’s Test Kitchen), movie theaters (XD), and electronics (Oppo, Dell, Canon). And he always managed to get the best deal possible. In recent years he also embraced homeownership and a love of landscaping and gardening. He approached it with the same fervor as all his other passions, researching the best products and devoting many hours to his home’s curb appeal, much to the delight of his neighbors. As the era of the “smart home” began, he christened his house Seeber Manor, with his lights, thermostat, and security cameras controlled by his voice and his trusty iPad. Perhaps the best “new thing” Ken experienced in his final years was a new love: Simon, his Maine Coon cat. Adopted from the Animal Rescue League in Des Moines, Simon was no ordinary feline. With the exotic mane of a lion and an outspoken personality, he saw Seeber Manor as his personal kingdom and Ken as his trusted servant. Placing his paws on Ken’s chest, he would demand to be carried, often wrapping himself like a stole around Ken’s neck as he sat at his computer. In evenings they’d watch TV together, with Simon curled up on Ken’s chest. Just as he didn’t settle for any ordinary cat, or any ordinary product, or any ordinary anything, Ken didn’t settle for ordinary acquaintences. He gravitated toward and bonded with the people he found the most compelling, the most kind and open-minded, the most interesting. The inheritance he leaves isn’t a large cache of cash—but a collection of great people who knew and loved him and who now find comfort and support in each other. His legacy is his friends.