“Josh Kalven spent his life helping people see more clearly. A writer, editor, designer, photographer, animator [and outdoorsman], he was drawn to work that made complex ideas and important stories more accessible.” (excerpt from Invisible Institute tribute to Josh)
Born on August 19, 1980, Josh was the son of Patricia Evans, photographer, and Jamie Kalven, journalist; the brother of Betsy Rose, designer; and the grandson of Dot Evans, founder of Vermont Youth Conservation Corps, and Lew Evans, former president of Lake Champlain Transportation Company. Josh was also the grandson of Betty and Harry Kalven Jr. Harry was a renowned First Amendment rights scholar, lawyer and author.
Josh grew up in Chicago in a household shaped by journalism, photography and a deep commitment to public life, as well as by extensive outdoor adventuring. Those values stayed with him. From his work at Media Matters for America and Progress Illinois to founding Newsbound and later Lone Pine Creative, he explored new ways of telling stories and expanding access to information. His most current project was a screenplay, contracted by Disney UK. From his early days of hiking mountains with his parents and sister to his intense rock-climbing outings with friends, being physically active was his meditation. His gift was time spent being a thoughtful, inspired and very intentional resource for so many.
On a stunning Vermont day, August 20, 2016, Josh married Mara Fox, nurse midwife. Mara delivered Josh to their wedding spot by the pond in the bucket of our family tractor. Family and friends took turns reading marriage challenges to them. Their dear friend Sage officiated, and after promises were made, Josh and Mara climbed into our canoe, complete with snack board and Champagne, and had a quiet paddle around the pond to ponder their future. Josh’s dad, Jamie, said to them in dinner remarks that night, “The most fortunate life is a vessel for tragedies as well as joys, for the cruel play of fate as well as mysterious turns of fortune.”
In San Francisco five years later, Josh became a dad. His son, Luca, is super coordinated and brave, as well as uniquely expressive and curious, like his Dada. As a family, Josh, Mara and Luca hiked, mountain biked, climbed, skied and backpacked in the Eastern Sierra mountains, Joshua Tree and elsewhere. Luca learned from the best how to be courageous and to build skills and understanding through outdoor experiences. One day a wild turkey crossed in front of us as we drove to camp at Poker Hill School. Luca said to me, “Weezy, did you know that turkeys have a short lifetime?” (I did not.) It was a segue to many conversations about the life cycles of all living creatures and why some die early.
Together with Mara’s tenacious support, Josh fought hard against an aggressive and rare NUT carcinoma. Reading the books My Dad and the Dragon and Lifetimes (the beautiful way to explain death to children), Josh, Mara and Luca openly faced Josh’s diagnosis. In the days before and after Josh’s death, Luca spoke often with his 5-year-old cousin, Sydney, about his Dada and cancer. Luca: “Sometimes there is medicine that stops the cancer dragon, and sometimes it doesn’t work. I’m sad my Dada is going to die.” Sydney: “I’m sad, too.” Luca’s ability to speak the truth and accept the tragic reality of Josh’s illness inspired us all to reach deeper for the strength needed to do our best every day for Josh. Our gift to Luca was our tender honesty about what was happening.
Though their family home was in San Francisco, from birth Josh had spent long periods of time on the family property in Underhill, Vt., swimming in cold streams, hiking Mansfield, skiing the Teardrop and Mount Dewey, mountain biking, and dipping in holes chopped in pond ice. As a small child, Josh had spent many bright summer days by the family pond with his sister and cousins, swimming and catching salamanders. His final wish was to spend his remaining days in Vermont.
During that last month, Mara’s and Josh’s large family, and many friends, had multiple funny, heart-wrenching, heart-opening moments with Joshy Walnuts (his family nickname). That time was spent sitting by our pond, quietly telling stories, sharing good food at the big family table and preparing for what he wanted — a beautiful death in Vermont with his family. His friend Drew wrote about Josh, “While his earthly strengths were being shed from him, his essence just shone brighter.”
On July 13, 2026, in the waning light of a classic Vermont evening, with many family members, including Luca and Mara, around him, Josh had the peaceful death he had wished for, so bravely. Cass McCombs’ song “Harmonia” played softly nearby. Cancer is indeed “a knife in the back,” but Josh still saw a friendly, loving world. As my youngest son, Sorrel, wisely observed, “Josh knew to bring us here, to show us the path, to remind us how strong we are together … This is where we were broken, and this is where we will heal.” The family thought we were brought together to be Josh’s caregivers, but we soon saw clearly that Josh was also ours.
There are not enough words to describe all the ways that we will miss Joshy Walnuts.
(Submitted by Josh’s aunt, Betsy Evans)
This article appears in August 26 • 2026.