Jay R. Strickland, RIP (1952-2026)

[Leslie Bell's ode to Jay is after the obituary Jay's siblings published at Rafferty Funeral Home's website, and is also published in full here below with additonal comments from the Reader's publisher in bold at the start and at the end.]

Jay R. Strickland, 73, of Rock Island, passed away Sunday, February 22, 2026, at Unity Point Health, Rock Island. Memorials can be made to the Figge Art Museum, Davenport.

Jay was born March 25, 1952, in Los Angeles, California, the son of Edward and Jane (Wright) Strickland. Jay was a critical team member at the River Cities' Reader paper for 30 years, and he loved being a part of the Quad Cities' art community.

Survivors include his sisters, Cynthia (Bill Damkohler) Strickland, Celeste Strickland, Rebecca (Kevin) Weathersby, Heather Strickland, Elaine (Joe) Berger, and Lisa (Darrell) Miller, and brothers, Dan (Myungeun) Strickland and Eric Strickland. He was preceded in death by his brother, Peter Strickland. They leave below a few fond memories they share with their brother, Jay.

“Jay my sports fandom began with you. We would watch football games together on that small 10-inch Sony TV. You explained the rules of the game to me. We would play 2 on 2 football games out in the front yard with Rebecca and another kid from down the street. I remember you diagramming plays on the palm of your hand with your index finger. You would say 'Take five steps out then turn around and come back two steps and I’ll throw you the ball.' That was the 'button hook' play. You taught me how to throw a tight spiral – something I was always proud of being able to do. I’ll miss you forever. Your little brother, Eric.”

“There’s a phrase I bet I’ve said a million times in my life, 'That’s just Jay being Jay.' Quirky, loving, energetic Jay. He was a true believer that this world needs more peace and the power of art. I never went a Mother’s Day, Flag Day or 4th of July without a message and postcard featuring his art. And NEVER did a leftover get thrown away on his watch! Sweet brother, you had your struggles, as do we all. But your love for your friends and family was never in doubt. I wish you the peace you sought and wanted for this world and the knowledge that we all loved you back.” – Celeste

“We are a family that’s an amalgam; one can see that at a glance. What’s less obvious is the almost story-book flavor. There’s certainly a Christopher Robin flavor to the mix, and Jay was absolutely Tigger. Old family videos are funny for the scenes of 5-year-old Jay bouncing in and out of view. Older Jay retained that bouncy energy in his viewpoint, looking at the world from an angle that was sometimes hard to understand even for us who grew up with him, but remarkable for an ability to shift our thinking. He was forever hopeful for the world, but disillusionments hit him hard, and he was like the characters in another classic book, The Wind in the Willows. In that home was center, both physical and in the idea of home. He could be exasperating, unintentionally funny, sometimes unintentionally offensive, but I loved him and learned a lot from him.” – Dan

In addition to his siblings, Jay leaves behind 14 nieces and nephews. His niece Mariah shared who Uncle Jay was to her below.

“He’d do handstands and cartwheels with us in the front yard. He could often be heard mumbling to himself. He would send thoughtful postcards. He used to bring old photo frames around and make us hold them for photos. We’d collectively sigh in annoyance over that. What an incredibly unique man with such a unique way of viewing things. It didn’t matter what anyone said or thought, he was going to do what he wanted to do and he was going to do it his way. His eccentricity was often undervalued, underappreciated and misunderstood, but at his core he was such a kind and pure person. I will always remember him and his courage to be who he was no matter what. Rest in peace, Uncle Jay 'The Beggar.' You will live on through your family who loves you. P.S. I forgive you for eating my cereal 17 years ago when I was pregnant. Watch over everyone!”

The Reader's co-founder and publisher Todd McGreevy stated emphatically, “There would be no Reader with out Jay Strickland, and his shoes are impossible to fill. He always had a calm measured demeanor and was phenomenally dedicated to ensuring the Reader was seen by as many people as possible. We owe Jay a great debt of gratitude for his decades of deliveries and he is sorely missed.”

Jenerous Jay Was Passionate About Others' Needs

By Leslie Bell

My memory is hazy, but I believe I met Jay at the Davenport Museum of Art in 1979 or earlier. He and I and maybe five other folks had been chosen to participate in a two-day workshop with Arnold Newman, the famous New York environmental portrait photographer. Lois Jecklin had set up a series of Jewish visiting artists – Mr. Newman, Morton Feldman, and Beverly Pepper. The photographers had an all-day workshop with a week break to do new work and then a major, all-day critique.

After having met Jay and Gary Gnidovic (now a professional photographer in Chicago), we formed a group together and met regularly for years. I found Jay to be one of the most observant, accurately critical, articulate, and helpful members. The Figge Art Museum owns a portfolio of a documentary project that the group did in 1978 at the heart of a regional depression. (You could probably ask to see Jay’s contribution.)

After Jay's photography degree from Southern Illinois University (a notable faculty at the time), he went to work at John Deere's photography department. I'm sure that you, as well as I, can see Jay as a star-shaped peg not likely to fit in the square hole that is corporate life. “They” wanted him to wear dress shoes in the wet labs and he, Mr. Practical, wanted to wear shoes that would discourage slippage on the wet floors. He eventually got nudged out and I'm guessing he shouted "Hallelujah!" several times at top volume.

Ever since that time, he and I have traded skills. I’d do certain types of illustration and calligraphy for him, and in turn, he’d help me trim trees and haul mulch. He was a huge fan of Walker Evans, Garry Winogrand, Robert Frank, and especially Lee Friedlander, and he avidly followed the work of myriad modern and contemporary photographers. Generous (I nicknamed him “Jenerous Jay'), intelligent, curious and passionate about the needs and rights of the underserved, persecuted, and forgotten. RIP, Jay. I was very happy to have known you.