Sally Mesh
So many tears… a painful loss, and so hard to begin, as Del said.
Should I begin with his frequent visits to the library office? He so admired the knowledge that resided with us in that facility. (Due to his efforts, among our holdings were ALL of J.S. Bach’s cantatas – astounding to find in a small high school library!)
Should I note his affection for his peers, his students and, above all, his boss, David Schein?
Should I talk about his tireless efforts to lift kids up and out of their teenage angst, including my own? And my inability to figure out how I could ever repay him for his successful efforts on their behalf?
Should I extol the many moments and hours of pleasure he provided for an entire community year after year at BBHS? And what about the high level of performance he extracted from such young and amateur performers? How was that consistently possible? And how could we quantify the pride-of-performance that was his legacy to the students who worked with him? A priceless gift, I submit.
Should I admire his indefatigable energy for the hard work involved in achieving a unified and skilled performing body, both at home in BB, and afield during the numerous trips he made with our kids? And is it possible to document how these trips transformed so many of them… for a lifetime?
Yes, it is hard to write about George, almost impossible. So many talents residing in one person, and how abundantly he shared them with us. He was a friend and part of my family’s life for many years, sharing work, family achievements, celebrations, and even family bereavements. Over the span of his career in our school district, he filled the same roles in many Blind Brook families. He was generous, funny, serious, passionate, devilish, intelligent and so very talented.
My heart is with Michael now. It will never forget George.
So many tears… a painful loss, and so hard to begin, as Del said.
Should I begin with his frequent visits to the library office? He so admired the knowledge that resided with us in that facility. (Due to his efforts, among our holdings were ALL of J.S. Bach’s cantatas – astounding to find in a small high school library!)
Should I note his affection for his peers, his students and, above all, his boss, David Schein?
Should I talk about his tireless efforts to lift kids up and out of their teenage angst, including my own? And my inability to figure out how I could ever repay him for his successful efforts on their behalf?
Should I extol the many moments and hours of pleasure he provided for an entire community year after year at BBHS? And what about the high level of performance he extracted from such young and amateur performers? How was that consistently possible? And how could we quantify the pride-of-performance that was his legacy to the students who worked with him? A priceless gift, I submit.
Should I admire his indefatigable energy for the hard work involved in achieving a unified and skilled performing body, both at home in BB, and afield during the numerous trips he made with our kids? And is it possible to document how these trips transformed so many of them… for a lifetime?
Yes, it is hard to write about George, almost impossible. So many talents residing in one person, and how abundantly he shared them with us. He was a friend and part of my family’s life for many years, sharing work, family achievements, celebrations, and even family bereavements. Over the span of his career in our school district, he filled the same roles in many Blind Brook families. He was generous, funny, serious, passionate, devilish, intelligent and so very talented.
My heart is with Michael now. It will never forget George.
