Scott Bierko
I didn't understand grief until today. Usually, I'm multi-tasking monster, but I'm lucky if I can keep my mind focused on one thing. My wife, Beth, told me that when you feel like you can't do anything, you shouldn't. For once, the phrase "We Go On" seems inappropriate. Right now, I think it's "We stop, we feel and we hold one another".
Scott:
For me, "We Go On" was an all-purpose battle cry to dig in and complete the final stages of any project, despite the attendant hardships that usually come along during the final phase of most efforts. Like someone attempting to summit Everest, it was that moment when your body and your inner critic say "no friggin way" and your inner spirit say, "yes, you certainly shall".
The phrase was also helpful when I was trying to avoid my own emotions. I could adapt "We Go On" to sprint past darker feelings like rejection, disappointment and grief. Over the last two days, I've been slowly separating myself from this wonderful FB list, getting ready to either re-immerse myself in my life or to join a group planning a celebration or memorial for George. In both cases, I was really saying to myself, "Scott, you have to move on, now". It felt noble, but not really quite right. I wanted to sprint past suffering.
Luckily, my beloved wife said, "Wait. Be with your grief and with this group awhile longer. See what comes up for you. Don't go on to the next thing, yet." Beth has more experience with grief than I. She knows that it comes in waves and knocks us down weeks or even years later.
And so this morning I sat. I looked out at the bare trees and my dog nestled on the rug. I allowed the moisture in my eyes to guide me to a place where I could see how I'd like to pick up the phone and hear George's voice. I mourned that I couldn't go over to his place and help Michael take care of him. I felt guilty for not being more giving, less wrapped up in my own daily grind. Dear George, did you die without knowing how much I loved you? Why didn't I stop and take your hand and tell you so?
The "We" of George's phrase is where I am today. I don't walk alone down this path of loss. You, my old friends, teachers and even strangers -you shared him and you know what I am feeling. The "We" is us as a community, sitting shivah, laughing, telling stories and suspending our lives for a week or two. Eventually, I will "go on" and so will you. Until then, I will sit, have a piece of cake and mourn the loss of one of God's most precious gifts to us, George Trautwein.
Laura Zatt
Thank you, Scott - that was beautifully said. I've had a really crazy week with work that I can't ignore - but while the work has occupied my hands, this community and connection and outpouring of love have all taken hold of my heart and commandeered my thoughts. Outrageously wonderful, the degree of connection with our collective past and the catalyst, this one man.
Del Shortliffe
I was telling myself that this morning would be my last visit to this site for at least a few days. I have to conquer some chores--have to get back to work. But now I'm tearing up and deeply moved again. This is a wonderful and necessary shiva call. And "Mr. Holland's Opus" is on tv. I've always thought it was too corny for me. This morning, it somehow seems different.
Scott Bierko
Mr. Holland's Opus meets Glee meets That 70's Show. That's the pitch, right? Thank you for your embrace, my friends. You're helping to reinforce this risky thing called "feeling".
Craig Bierko
Scott, that was beautiful. A fact that may have gone unmentioned - if it was, I missed it - was my brother Scott's astounding partnership with Trautwein in co-creating a "Kelly's Heroes" type assemblage of rag-tag "jocks" who might have otherwise missed out on all Scott was experiencing with Mr T. The result was utterly charming - a group of guys who had no business - certainly no initial desire - being anywhere near a stage. But Scott must have known that all he needed to do was expose his pals - Mike Woodrow, Billy Corwin, Randy Walker among them - to Trautwein and the man would instinctively find a way in. He did, of course, and the result was "The Sophisticados" - somewhere between concert choir and the "Putting on the Ritz" scene from "Young Frankenstein" - there they stood in their straw bolo hats and striped vests, grinning bolt to bolt - one thick neck of a choir singing classic gems from the American songbook.
Scott Bierko
Thanks, Craig. The interesting thing about "The Sophisticados" was the guys that joined because their friends did. It could have gone the other way and never happened, but Mike Woodrow, Bill Corwin and others get credit for taking a risk and bringing others along for the ride. It reminds me of Jeff Schecter's description of how 7th grade chorus grew. I was just copying George's example!
Barry Eisenberg
That really speaks to me too Scott. Thanks. I was finally able to come to a big decision about my career this week, stepping down from a leadership position i've held for 14 years in part because of how our grieving community spoke to me about life and love.
Scott Bierko
Truth time. You've inspired me, Barry. I just got off the phone with my father, a man who I've consciously and unconsciously hated for his having left me and my family for 37 years. I was able to tell him about this group, about how my heart is opening and to share with him some of the love that I remember between us from long ago. I was able to tell him about times that I remembered him being a good dad, not the black sheep of family lore. He was so overjoyed. My friends, it was as if the Titanic surfaced. For thirty minutes, I didn't hold onto the pain. I let it go. Does grief and community have a purpose? Witness it.
Linda Mercer Gray
My goodness. I do not know you who you are and yet, I Know who you are. Thank you and God Bless.
Lorie Lewis
Underlying everything I've done (as diverse as each adventure has been) has been the "lifesong" of unity, harmony and community. I never knew where that came from. Yes, it should have been so obvious. It is now. I love your words about the "we" in we go on. As soon as I read this, I thought, wow isn't it interesting that the two of us are still connected 30 years later in this simple but profound notion. Can't wait to talk tomorrow :)
Hope Albrecht Klein
more than anyone He knows / knew how much you loved him & admired him & each visit to the LGI, each time you do your work he knows u celebrate him. Luckily you married a wonderful woman to help direct your grief. It is a dance with grief and sometimes you shall waltz with it.. sometimes Cha Cha ! He adored you kiddo & he always knew it was DITTO!
Heather Cusack
Scott...No guilt; You were a wonderful student to Uncle Trauty and what you and Beth do in life for hundreds of children is carrying on his lifes work. Look forward- and now you can do something for Michael, send flowers, or stop by with food; he walks everyday, walk with him and talk to him and share the grief and the delight and the love; remember his laugh! and Carousel! and Rome! his spirit will always be with us!
Scott Bierko
I work as a Teaching Artist and everything I know about how to motivate and move students I learned from George Trautwein. As so many have said, he had a unique and wonderful combination of traits that we will always remember and pass on to our own kids, personally and professionally.
To the ones listed, I will add a passion for excellence. He rehearsed us until we knew not only our own parts, but how to hear one another, the room acoustics and our own bodies vibrating with the sound. He respected the singing voice as the highest form of musical expression with the possible exception of the composers he absolutely adored.
George was inclusive, too. When the two of us talked about all of my friends who played sports, the two of us cooked up a scheme to create a group called "The Sophisticados", entirely composed of BBHS athletes. To me, that reinforced what Pete Seeger often says, "We've got to get America singing, again." Amen. I'll never forget Warren Bernstein holding Larry Kaufman like a baby in his arms at the end of one of those silly songs like "Be My Little Baby Bumblebee".
A few months ago, I was conducting a recording session with a few hundred school kids. Their singing, as so often is the case, was a little dull and uninspired. In that moment, I decided to take a risk. I stood up, looked at them with a half serious, half joking face and said, "You are all BORING me!" The teachers in the room were aghast, but the kids got it right away. I wasn't willing to accept their pretty good, safe take of the song. I wanted to hear them reach into their hearts, evoke emotion and make the song come alive. They deserved it and so did the audience.
Before I close I would like to say "thank you" to the equally talented and inspiring, Michael Penta. He and George have been together since 1964 when they met in North Carolina. And it was because of their relationship that George left North Carolina to come to New York. In addition, it was Michael who told BBHS's first principal, the late Dave Schein, all about this wonderful man, George Trautwein. "You must hire him," said Michael. The rest, of course, is history.
It has also been Michael who has tirelessly nursed George throughout his fight with Parkinson's Disease. To watch your beloved slowly decline over many years requires a man of steely strength. Their love must have been very great indeed and it is something I will remember and seek to emulate in addition to the other things I learned from George. God Bless you, Michael, for being George's partner all these years.
Thank you for letting me share, everyone. I feel badly that I didn't stay closer to George as I've moved on in life. But he never asked that of me. He just wanted me to sing, to love music and to be a good man. I hope I made him proud.
I didn't understand grief until today. Usually, I'm multi-tasking monster, but I'm lucky if I can keep my mind focused on one thing. My wife, Beth, told me that when you feel like you can't do anything, you shouldn't. For once, the phrase "We Go On" seems inappropriate. Right now, I think it's "We stop, we feel and we hold one another".
Cynthia Mesh I'm with you all who are deciding, consciously or not, to just be with this thread today. It's a gift, really, to be able to share these memories and spend time reflecting on what George meant to us and seeing the many ways in which he spread his tremendous love. I'm very grateful for Facebook's bright side today.
Ellen Silverman Totally agree Scott, today for me has been totally unproductive. I keep trying but keep finding myself reading all the wonderful things people are saying. I love the way the whole Rye Brook community has come together to honor an amazing man. The community we lived in truly has given all of us a tremendous amount. We can all come together for something like this and truly hold one another like you said.
Suzanne Kiyak McCarthy We may not be productive in our "normal world", but here we are productive in helping console each other.
Scott:
For me, "We Go On" was an all-purpose battle cry to dig in and complete the final stages of any project, despite the attendant hardships that usually come along during the final phase of most efforts. Like someone attempting to summit Everest, it was that moment when your body and your inner critic say "no friggin way" and your inner spirit say, "yes, you certainly shall".
The phrase was also helpful when I was trying to avoid my own emotions. I could adapt "We Go On" to sprint past darker feelings like rejection, disappointment and grief. Over the last two days, I've been slowly separating myself from this wonderful FB list, getting ready to either re-immerse myself in my life or to join a group planning a celebration or memorial for George. In both cases, I was really saying to myself, "Scott, you have to move on, now". It felt noble, but not really quite right. I wanted to sprint past suffering.
Luckily, my beloved wife said, "Wait. Be with your grief and with this group awhile longer. See what comes up for you. Don't go on to the next thing, yet." Beth has more experience with grief than I. She knows that it comes in waves and knocks us down weeks or even years later.
And so this morning I sat. I looked out at the bare trees and my dog nestled on the rug. I allowed the moisture in my eyes to guide me to a place where I could see how I'd like to pick up the phone and hear George's voice. I mourned that I couldn't go over to his place and help Michael take care of him. I felt guilty for not being more giving, less wrapped up in my own daily grind. Dear George, did you die without knowing how much I loved you? Why didn't I stop and take your hand and tell you so?
The "We" of George's phrase is where I am today. I don't walk alone down this path of loss. You, my old friends, teachers and even strangers -you shared him and you know what I am feeling. The "We" is us as a community, sitting shivah, laughing, telling stories and suspending our lives for a week or two. Eventually, I will "go on" and so will you. Until then, I will sit, have a piece of cake and mourn the loss of one of God's most precious gifts to us, George Trautwein.
Laura Zatt
Thank you, Scott - that was beautifully said. I've had a really crazy week with work that I can't ignore - but while the work has occupied my hands, this community and connection and outpouring of love have all taken hold of my heart and commandeered my thoughts. Outrageously wonderful, the degree of connection with our collective past and the catalyst, this one man.
Del Shortliffe
I was telling myself that this morning would be my last visit to this site for at least a few days. I have to conquer some chores--have to get back to work. But now I'm tearing up and deeply moved again. This is a wonderful and necessary shiva call. And "Mr. Holland's Opus" is on tv. I've always thought it was too corny for me. This morning, it somehow seems different.
Scott Bierko
Mr. Holland's Opus meets Glee meets That 70's Show. That's the pitch, right? Thank you for your embrace, my friends. You're helping to reinforce this risky thing called "feeling".
Craig Bierko
Scott, that was beautiful. A fact that may have gone unmentioned - if it was, I missed it - was my brother Scott's astounding partnership with Trautwein in co-creating a "Kelly's Heroes" type assemblage of rag-tag "jocks" who might have otherwise missed out on all Scott was experiencing with Mr T. The result was utterly charming - a group of guys who had no business - certainly no initial desire - being anywhere near a stage. But Scott must have known that all he needed to do was expose his pals - Mike Woodrow, Billy Corwin, Randy Walker among them - to Trautwein and the man would instinctively find a way in. He did, of course, and the result was "The Sophisticados" - somewhere between concert choir and the "Putting on the Ritz" scene from "Young Frankenstein" - there they stood in their straw bolo hats and striped vests, grinning bolt to bolt - one thick neck of a choir singing classic gems from the American songbook.
Scott Bierko
Thanks, Craig. The interesting thing about "The Sophisticados" was the guys that joined because their friends did. It could have gone the other way and never happened, but Mike Woodrow, Bill Corwin and others get credit for taking a risk and bringing others along for the ride. It reminds me of Jeff Schecter's description of how 7th grade chorus grew. I was just copying George's example!
Barry Eisenberg
That really speaks to me too Scott. Thanks. I was finally able to come to a big decision about my career this week, stepping down from a leadership position i've held for 14 years in part because of how our grieving community spoke to me about life and love.
Scott Bierko
Truth time. You've inspired me, Barry. I just got off the phone with my father, a man who I've consciously and unconsciously hated for his having left me and my family for 37 years. I was able to tell him about this group, about how my heart is opening and to share with him some of the love that I remember between us from long ago. I was able to tell him about times that I remembered him being a good dad, not the black sheep of family lore. He was so overjoyed. My friends, it was as if the Titanic surfaced. For thirty minutes, I didn't hold onto the pain. I let it go. Does grief and community have a purpose? Witness it.
Linda Mercer Gray
My goodness. I do not know you who you are and yet, I Know who you are. Thank you and God Bless.
Lorie Lewis
Underlying everything I've done (as diverse as each adventure has been) has been the "lifesong" of unity, harmony and community. I never knew where that came from. Yes, it should have been so obvious. It is now. I love your words about the "we" in we go on. As soon as I read this, I thought, wow isn't it interesting that the two of us are still connected 30 years later in this simple but profound notion. Can't wait to talk tomorrow :)
Hope Albrecht Klein
more than anyone He knows / knew how much you loved him & admired him & each visit to the LGI, each time you do your work he knows u celebrate him. Luckily you married a wonderful woman to help direct your grief. It is a dance with grief and sometimes you shall waltz with it.. sometimes Cha Cha ! He adored you kiddo & he always knew it was DITTO!
Heather Cusack
Scott...No guilt; You were a wonderful student to Uncle Trauty and what you and Beth do in life for hundreds of children is carrying on his lifes work. Look forward- and now you can do something for Michael, send flowers, or stop by with food; he walks everyday, walk with him and talk to him and share the grief and the delight and the love; remember his laugh! and Carousel! and Rome! his spirit will always be with us!
Scott Bierko
I work as a Teaching Artist and everything I know about how to motivate and move students I learned from George Trautwein. As so many have said, he had a unique and wonderful combination of traits that we will always remember and pass on to our own kids, personally and professionally.
To the ones listed, I will add a passion for excellence. He rehearsed us until we knew not only our own parts, but how to hear one another, the room acoustics and our own bodies vibrating with the sound. He respected the singing voice as the highest form of musical expression with the possible exception of the composers he absolutely adored.
George was inclusive, too. When the two of us talked about all of my friends who played sports, the two of us cooked up a scheme to create a group called "The Sophisticados", entirely composed of BBHS athletes. To me, that reinforced what Pete Seeger often says, "We've got to get America singing, again." Amen. I'll never forget Warren Bernstein holding Larry Kaufman like a baby in his arms at the end of one of those silly songs like "Be My Little Baby Bumblebee".
A few months ago, I was conducting a recording session with a few hundred school kids. Their singing, as so often is the case, was a little dull and uninspired. In that moment, I decided to take a risk. I stood up, looked at them with a half serious, half joking face and said, "You are all BORING me!" The teachers in the room were aghast, but the kids got it right away. I wasn't willing to accept their pretty good, safe take of the song. I wanted to hear them reach into their hearts, evoke emotion and make the song come alive. They deserved it and so did the audience.
Before I close I would like to say "thank you" to the equally talented and inspiring, Michael Penta. He and George have been together since 1964 when they met in North Carolina. And it was because of their relationship that George left North Carolina to come to New York. In addition, it was Michael who told BBHS's first principal, the late Dave Schein, all about this wonderful man, George Trautwein. "You must hire him," said Michael. The rest, of course, is history.
It has also been Michael who has tirelessly nursed George throughout his fight with Parkinson's Disease. To watch your beloved slowly decline over many years requires a man of steely strength. Their love must have been very great indeed and it is something I will remember and seek to emulate in addition to the other things I learned from George. God Bless you, Michael, for being George's partner all these years.
Thank you for letting me share, everyone. I feel badly that I didn't stay closer to George as I've moved on in life. But he never asked that of me. He just wanted me to sing, to love music and to be a good man. I hope I made him proud.
