King Reilly: A Treasured Gift From Our Hometown

“Teaching is a very noble profession that shapes the character, calibre, and future of an individual. If the people remember me as a good teacher, that will be the biggest honour for me.”

-- Avul Pakir Jainulabdeen Abdul Kalam, 11th president of India, 2002 to 2007

Amy and I drove around Colonial Park a few times before we found the right gazebo. When we couldn’t find it immediately, my sister wanted to head back to Del Boca Vista, but I insisted we persist. In the end, we were glad we did.

In the gazebo, we met Eileen and Kathy, Mr. Reilly’s daughters, and one of his granddaughters, Kristen, as well as Chuck McCook, a fellow Franklin High School alum from the Class of 1980. Lovingly placed on the seats around the gazebo were the King’s FHS yearbooks from the 70s, 80s, and beyond, together with snapshots of students his daughters told us they’d found on the bookshelves in his basement “man cave.”

Immediately, Amy spotted me in the array of photos—wearing the same pink velour turtleneck I’d worn at my Sweet 16. We quickly identified others, rattling off their names as though we’d walked the high school’s halls with them just yesterday—Tommy Kimball, Carolyn Holmes, Carrie Hamilton, Andrew Schofer, Julie Goldman, Jimbo Allegro, Amy McGovern, Cory Nass, and Adam Weintraub. There were others, too, familiar as the backs of our own hands, but four decades have elapsed since the photos were taken, preventing us from whipping their names from the recesses of our middle-aged minds.

To the pictures and the yearbooks, we added our own reminiscences: the antics of “Reilly’s Raiders” and the classmates who participated;” hanging with King Reilly in his classroom until the “late bus” took us home; the outline sketch of the 13 original colonies on the chalkboard that began many an early American history lesson; hosting the King himself for dinner at 12 Webster Road on back-to-school night; and knowing, without anyone saying so, that Reilly’s classroom was a safe haven, long before that even was a thing. The kids who smoked in the courtyard, the hallway cacophony between classes, and our love for a school that, at the time, had a less than stellar reputation all made cameo appearances in our conversation.

From his daughters, we got a bit of the King’s prequel and sequel to our own high school years. He began his college career as a business major. However, after he was drafted during the Vietnam War and spent time as a file clerk in Korea, he changed his major to education upon returning home. Even though the switch meant lost credits and more time in school, his wartime experience had taught him that business and office work weren’t for him—and to our benefit, he acted on that knowledge. Kathy told us how, eager to get out of school for the day, she accompanied her dad to an early iteration of “Take Our Daughters to Work Day,” only to find herself in his classroom all day, listening to him tell the story of Hugh Glass’ mauling by a bear—not once or twice, but eight times during the course of the school day. He was good at storytelling, she said, and no one was embarrassed or thought the tale was dorky or dumb.

Following his retirement in the mid-1990s, he spent precious time with his family; the Palmyra High School Band Parents, who, thanks to him, added “and Grandparents” to the organization’s name; and the people of Ireland, whom he met when he backpacked and hitchhiked across the country from Galway to Dublin. All of them, like Amy, Chuck, and I, along with countless other Franklin students, are better for having crossed paths with King Reilly—and now members of his family—and will carry his life lessons and his indomitable spirit in our hearts always. They are among a trove of treasured gifts from our hometown whose value—and our appreciation of them—only increases with time.

Rest in peace, Mr. Reilly.

P.S. One the the High Holiday sermons I read this season connected me to this NPR story from 2005. Although this wasn't a funeral, Amy and I were honored to share this special time and fond memories with King Reilly's loved ones.

#BlogElul 5777: Seven Things to Learn in the New Year

As a lifelong learner, I’d like to learn (at least) these seven things in the new year. Some of them, in fact, may take a lifetime to learn.

1. It’s not personal, even if it feels that way.
2. I cannot control everything, but I can control my reactions.
3. Don’t worry until it’s necessary.
4. Life isn’t always fair.
5. Good guys don’t always win.
6. Not everyone who leads is a leader.
7. At the end of the day, leave the day behind.

Time to get busy!

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima , this #BlogElul post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precede the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serve as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

Reunion Reflections

It's been 30 years -- an entire generation -- since Meryl Streep offered us her crystalline acapella rendition of Que Sera Sera, kicking off her commencement address: 

Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be

#BlogExodus: To Rise....Or Not

Growing up, my sister and I learned the importance of rising to the occasion – to meet the challenges we faced, to deal with difficult or unexpected situations, and to do what was needed, even if it wasn't  what we’d planned or anticipated. 

Que Sera, Sera

This week's RemembeRED writing prompt from The Red Dress Club:

It's that time of year...graduation.

For this week's prompt we are asking you to remember a graduation.  It doesn't have to be yours and it doesn't have to be high school.

With a solid blast of Baroque trumpets as background, four-hundred and ninety eight of us followed Meryl Streep as though she was the Pied Piper.  Guided by the mortarboard perched atop her long auburn waves, we trekked like a flock of bats behind her:  up the hill from the field house, past the ‘Pard statue, across the campus’ one road and into our assigned seats in the grid of white chairs splayed out in front of the library like tombstones in a World War II cemetery.

When it was her turn to speak, she approached the podium, but before she uttered a word, her voice rang out in clear, sweet song:

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

The actress’ a cappella rendition of Doris Day’s classic was an apt lesson for all of us that day.  Perched on the brink of the rest of our lives, we certainly did not know then (nor do we ever really know) what awaits us around the next bend.  Twenty-six years later, that lesson still rings true for me.  More important, I know--as I believe I knew then--that no matter how bumpy the path, my family and friends, my quality education, and my gut will always help to steer me in the right direction.  After all, they haven’t failed me yet.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Remembe(RED) is the memoir meme of The Red Dress Club.  Thanks for reading...and feel free to offer thoughts, ideas and/or constructive criticism.  I appreciate hearing what you have to say.

John Lennon Had It Right

A few months ago, much to my surprise and delight, I met someone in The Schmuck Parade who actually was second-date worthy. And third and fourth…and before I knew it, we were, um, I think the term is “dating.” It’d been so long, I almost forgot what it’s called.

Regular readers of this blog know that when I write about The Schmuck Parade, it’s only in the most general of terms. They’re familiar with Guy #1, Guy #2 and Guy #3, as well as Guys #17, #18, #19 and beyond. Readers also know that I never, ever write about people I’ve actually met in The Parade.

However, if I was going to write about this guy that I’m not going to write about, I would tell you that he seemed to be a refreshing change from the other marchers I've encountered. Unlike so many of them, he appeared to be kind, fun, funny, generous, interesting, thoughtful, sweet and just generally a nice guy. We enjoyed spending time together and in the little more than two months we spent “keeping company,” he’d met a handful of my friends, and we’d done our share of cooking at my place, as well as poking around in the city—Central Park after a snowfall, Chelsea Market, the High Line, and, just two weeks ago, a trek to Flushing, at the end of the 7 train, on the eve of Chinese New Year. There we checked out the neighborhood and enjoyed yummy duck sliders, pork dumplings and spicy beef skewers from vendors at barbecue carts that dot every corner around Main Street and Roosevelt Avenue.

Finally, it was nice to step out of The Parade and stick with one person…quick emails during the day, longer chats by phone at night, city adventures on the weekends. Nice…

Until I got dumped.

By email.

And a nebulous one at that.

Shocked? Baffled? Disappointed? Hurt? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. But, in the spirit of making lemonade from lemons, here's a refresher on some of the important lessons that the shock, bafflement, disappointment and hurt also brought my way:

Lesson #1: The Schmuck Parade is most aptly named.

Lesson #2: People are complex creatures and often are not as they appear to be.

Lesson #3: As my sister always says, when it comes to apartments, jobs and men (OK, “affairs of the heart” for you straight guys and lesbians who may be reading this), always go with your gut. It speaks louder and much more clearly than either of its peers: heart or brain.

Lesson #4: Gloria Gaynor is great company and the louder, the better.

Lesson #5: John Lennon was oh-so right, and I’m getting by with a little help from my friends. They’ve been great and I am ever grateful for so much of what they’ve had to say:

Friend #1 on Facebook chat: “He just wasn’t good enough for you. That’s all.”

Friend #2, who has endured her own share of Parade bruises: “I think that this one will have to get the "SCHMUCK of the YEAR" award!!!!!”

Friend #3 on IM: “Ugh, so sorry. You have plans for Purim?”
Me: “No.”
Friend #2: “Come to TST. Saturday night. We’ll do dinner first, then the schpiel.”

Friend #4, who met him: “I am shocked that I could be so wrong about an adult. I feel duped. Thank God he's outta here now, before you wasted time with the SCHMUCK.”

Friend #5 on Facebook: “I wish Facebook had a "You are completely awesome and deserve WAY better" button.”

Friend #6, a cantor, also on Facebook: “I will sing a high note in his general direction! The kind only dogs can hear but that will resonate in his head and give him a migraine!”

Friend #7, one of my study buddies, in an email: “Oy, what a shame that he wasted your time. But, as I always say - we do learn lots about ourselves and about others whenever we have the courage to embark on a relationship and let someone in even a little bit....So, it's up to you to keep doing what you're doing, and hope and have faith that you will meet an equally mature, wonderful, deserving companion.”

Lastly, this from Friend #8, my other study buddy, when we met after class this week: “We’ll get you a tuba and you can get back in The Parade.”

No, not just yet, but thanks to all of you, I am indeed getting by with a little help from my friends.

Plan B Saturday: Food, Family, Friends and Fun

For reasons that are not entirely clear to me, my weekend plans fizzled at the end of last week. Lucky for me, I was able to salvage my Saturday and ended up having a great day filled with food, family, friends and fun.

First up on the agenda was tagging along on a gallery talk my sister was slated to give at the Metropolitan Museum of Art at 11:15 a.m. Only after I met up with my father in the Great Hall of the Met, however, did we learn from her that, unbeknownst even to her until a few minutes earlier, the tour had been canceled. Undaunted, she guided us deftly through the galleries, pointing out the 19th century paintings she’d prepared for the tour, as well as a few others that sparked our interest. We started with Edouard Manet’s Young Lady in 1866 and then compared it with Gustave Courbet’s Woman with a Parrot before moving on to admire the handiwork of Henri Fantin-Latour's floral paintings. A few galleries away, we compared this Madame Cezanne with this one, in which she seems to be saying, “Oy, Paul, another portrait?!…Enough already.” On our way out, we checked out a few Rembrandts (Did you know that Rembrandt was his first name and that his full name was Rembrandt van Rijn? I didn’t…) and Renoirs, including this one, all expertly explained by my sister.

Having absorbed enough culture for one day, we headed downtown on the bus to Koreatown, where we enjoyed lunch at Pho 32 & Shabu, grateful for warm, hearty soup on a cold day. Here's my dad enjoying his:
From there, we each headed home—my sister to Union Square, my father to New Jersey via Penn Station and me across town to Kips Bay.

A bit of reading for school, a welcome Shabbos nap, a quick change of clothes and I was off again, this time to meet some friends for an early dinner and perhaps a movie. Our tacos and fixin's at Cascabel Taqueria proved to be as yummy as my pho lunch, and The Blind Side was the perfect feel-good movie to round out out a really nice, feel-good kind of day.

So, although these weren’t my original plans, my Plan B Saturday was quite satisfying nonetheless—and maybe even better than what might have been.

Hmmm…who knows what next week will bring…

The Riches of Friendship

Having packed bags, made weekend arrangements for husbands, kids and pets, and traveled from three different states, we four forty-somethings were gathered in Julie’s kitchen in Ridgefield, Connecticut by seven on Friday evening and, in the ensuing forty-something hours, barely left the casual comfort of her great room. Sure, we poked around in the downtown shops on Saturday morning, had a bite of lunch at Fifty Coins, rented a cute, feel-good movie for Saturday night and took a dip or two in the pool, but mostly we reminisced about the past, caught up on the here and now, and planned our next get-together.

Our past includes one year as floor mates in Ruef Hall, one as apartment mates in Watson Courts and 24-plus as friends who, although often in touch only at the holidays and birthdays, are always close in each others’ hearts. As though we were lunching back at our little table in the Courts, The Young and the Restless on in the background, we recalled Julie’s stay in Easton Hospital to fight a mono infection, Laneco runs in my clunky Dodge Aspen, Deedee’s nice-guy boyfriend Hal, and Terry’s phone calls from England during her semester abroad. Oh yes, in between our soap-opera-watching lunches, our Sunday night sorority meetings, our pub night dancing escapades at fraternities and our countless upper class meal plan dinners at KDR, we went to class, studied, wrote papers, took tests and absorbed the fine liberal arts and engineering education we were fortunate to have available to us.

As far as the here and now, we shared family photos, kvetched about in-laws, provided updates about spouses, parents, siblings, kids, jobs and dates, compared cholecystectomy scars and hypertension meds and, to a person, noted the ever increasing volume of the television in our parents’ homes. Thankfully, everyone there is relatively healthy and active, and we know we’re lucky that’s the case.

By Sunday afternoon, we’d laughed and cried, made a teeny-tiny dent in the catching up and agreed to gather again next year…perhaps with husbands and kids in tow. Indeed, how lucky each of us is for friends who are like family, for decades-ago memories of good times that still make us glow, and for the promise of more riches of friendship in our lives in the years and decades ahead.

Closing Thoughts

Earlier today I spent some time perusing the New York Times. In three different articles, I was struck by the profundity of the closing sentence: the first was sad, the second real and the third inspirational.

The first was an obituary for Marilyn Cooper, a Tony Award winning character actress who appears to have had a rich, rewarding and successful career and died on Wednesday night at the age of 74. The last line of the obituary says, “She has no immediate survivors.” Sad…

The second was the Shortcuts column in the business section, which this week offered exceedingly timely guidance about what to say and do (and, conversely, what not to say and do) when a friend is laid off. The closing sentence of this one: “As Ms. Trunk says, ‘Most people’s moronic comments are rooted in kindness.’”

And now, the best, which appears in an op-ed by Tom Bergeron, host of “Dancing With the Stars.” Of course, pop culture Neanderthal that I am, I had no idea who Bergeron was until I read the blurb under his name. In any event, he wrote about Susan Boyle (yes, even I know who she is), the unemployed, 40-something British woman who is belting out I Dreamed a Dream all over YouTube. Pondering our snarky, smug attitudes toward those who are less than young, beautiful or “cool” (however you define it), Bergeron closes with this: “We need the courage to believe that stirring voices can be found in unlikely places.”

Indeed, let us seek out those stirring voices and encourage them to sing.

Procrastination Pays!

Finally, some good news from behemoth Baruch. In today’s mail, I received the following letter:

December 2008

Dear students:

As all of you are aware, the School of Public Affairs has had, as part of the curriculum, a Computer Competency Requirement. In the past, students have completed this requirement by either successfully passing a timed exam, or by registering for the PAF 8000 workshop.

Due to increasing demand by students that the requirement be revised, the issue was brought to the School of Public Affairs Curriculum Committee, and was later voted on by the faculty of the School of Public Affairs. It was decided that the existing Computer Competency Requirement will be eliminated effective immediately. Students with a graduation date of February 2009 or later
will no longer need to have satisfied the requirement in order to graduate.

The Registrar’s Office has also been made aware of this change. If you have any questions, please feel free to email us at Spa.Advisement@baruch.cuny.edu.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Engel
Professor and Associate Dean for Academic Programs
School of Public Affairs
Baruch College, CUNY

To those of you who know me well, it will, I know, come as somewhat of a shock to learn that although I am one-third of the way through the master’s program, I had not yet taken the Computer Competency timed exam nor registered for the PAF 8000 workshop. And so it is that I have learned (finally!) from firsthand experience that sometimes—not often, but sometimes—procrastination pays!