Matthew Stephen Spira

Matthew Stephen Spira passed away at home on November 19, 2025. Matt was a deeply loved father, brother, son, and friend. He was a talented poet, writer, and thinker. Born in Hawaii, Matt traveled extensively as a child and graduated from Colegio Roosevelt in Lima, Peru. Matt received his bachelor's degree in creative writing from the University of California-Santa Barbara, where he participated in the ROTC program. He served in the Army in Desert Storm. After college, he worked in a variety of jobs in a variety of places, including in technology in San Francisco and teaching English in South Korea. He and his family eventually landed in Madison, WI. 

Matt was fiercely proud of his children, his military service, and, most recently, leading his 40,000+ Twitter followers in spirited debates on current events, politics, and life. He was intelligent and creative. He always strove to be a good man, provider, and dad. Matt is survived by his daughters, Madeline and Faith, his parents, his sisters, and the many friends he gathered to him throughout his life – with a special shout-out to his heart-friends Allan, Aly, and Leah. 

There is no scheduled funeral or memorial service at this time. Instead, his family will honor his request that we spread his ashes this summer in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Miami. In the years ahead, he will visit all the world's warm beaches, which is what he wanted. In lieu of flowers or gifts, we ask that you make a donation in his name to a veteran’s association or organization fighting the devastation that is alcohol dependence.

Our hearts are broken, and the world is dimmer. Matt will be sorely missed. We end this tribute with Matt’s own poems, from his published book of poetry, 

The End of the Rainbow (Matthew S. Spira, 2020): 

GOING TO THE CEMETERY

When I go to that cemetery

I hope it’s in the company of people

who will remember and celebrate

all the ways I loved;

the ways we loved;

the ways we together experienced joy;

the accumulation of life’s detail and texture;

of trying to make things

better, even if our muddling best

didn’t always seem good enough

at the time. The depth and resonance

and the beautiful complexity of a life

reticulating into other lives; all our

connections to one another coming

together in the singularity of the moment

when I go to that cemetery.

BIRTHRIGHT

My daughter in the living room with her friends loudly laughing.

In my room, my door closed, at my desk. Outside the joy of their youth unrestrained.

I smile, the thought thirty years hence perhaps they will be sitting like me now

listening to their children carry forth the exuberance

that should be the exuberance of every new generation.