As promised...such as it is...:)
Today you get two for the price of one...
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As Bob returned to his office, his secretary approached and handed him a message. The President of Nesbitt had called to discuss the timing of a Memorial Service. Bob sat down at his desk and dialed the number on the message.
As Bob spoke to President Francis, his eyes roamed the room full of paperwork that would need to be addressed before Jillian returned to Arizona. He rubbed his left temple with his free hand as he contemplated this task, at the same time looking over his calendar to verify a date and time for the College’s Memorial Service. They settled on tomorrow afternoon at one. The faculty and staff would pay their respects to Dr. Barton at the Convocation Center, which would allow for overflow, if needed into an outdoor natural amphitheater that could easily be fitted with a relatively small number of speakers to allow everyone to hear, if not see, what was going on inside.
As soon as Bob hung up, he called the hotel to let Jillian know of the plan. He had her cell phone number, but thought if she was asleep he would just leave a message and it could be delivered now if she was available, or later if she was not. She would call him if there were a question.
Bob’s secretary came into the office, looking a little bit stressed.
“What is it Kathy?”
“There are a ton of messages from all over the country in your voice mail. Where would you like me to start? Or do you want to take care of them? They are all from people wanting information about funeral arrangements for Dr. Barton.”
Bob rubbed his temple again and looked up at her, “I will take care of them, Kathy. You worry about running the office, this isn’t your problem, it is mine. I will take care of it. Thank you for taking care of me, Kathy, I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Kathy smiled and left the office as Bob picked up his phone to listen to his voicemail.
He returned call after call, after call. Almost everyone he spoke to indicated that they would be at the funeral, at least. Many had expressed an interest in attending the memorial service as well. Almost every one of them also asked about Jillian. How she was doing, if she needed anything, things like that. It was readily apparent that almost all of them knew her, and had for a long time. Most of those that called were colleagues at other colleges, administrators, and former students. Nearly every one of the former students felt it necessary to impart some story to Bob about how Dr. Barton had made Math come alive for them, inspired them in some way to achieve, attain, create and otherwise succeed in some aspect of the educational world. He was tied up for two hours returning the calls that he had received in the past twelve hours. The realization of the size of this funeral was beginning to make itself evident.
Jillian called him at about 2. She agreed with all the arrangements that had been made to this point. This eased his mind a little. He was glad that there would be room for overflow for the memorial service, it looked like they were going to need it.
The small hotel was full. There were no more rooms to be had. Visitors from all over the country were here. The town was small. There were not a lot of things to do there, with the possible exception of perusing the small shops that ran the length of Main Street. There were antique shops, quite nice ones, as a matter of fact. There were shops that offered tee shirts, College apparel, handmade candy, old style everything available in this town. The typical small town with a liberal arts college in its midst, with those that have degrees that could only help them find work if they worked for themselves. It was that kind of Main Street. Quaint. Busy. Interesting.
The clientele at the Inn had become older, more conservative and more scholarly as the day passed. The lobby filled with serious-appearing people, sitting reading newspapers and magazines, looking for the most part bored. That is until they happen to notice someone that they recognize across the room. The lobby at the inn was taking on more the appearance of a convention, or family reunion than a hotel. There was a buzz of scholarly conversation in the lobby, as well as the bar and outside on the veranda by the time Jillian had prepared to venture out of her room again. She had finally gotten a fair amount of uninterrupted sleep. It was nearly 7 and the aroma of fine dining was permeating the entire second floor. As she made her way down the hallway toward the staircase, she noticed the level of conversation and looked over the railing on the second floor into the lobby. There were people wall-to-wall. She either knew or recognized a fair number of them.
As she scanned the faces, prior to descending the stairs, she noticed in the far corner, appearing to be trapped by a fairly large man with gray hair and an even grayer beard, was Dr. Hartley, the Chairman of the Department of Physics at Southwestern University, where Jillian. Jillian had just spoken to the office yesterday to let them know where she had gone. Strange that Sharon hadn’t called to let her know that Dr. Hartley was coming.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Jillian made her way directly to Steven Hartley to show her appreciation for his presence. Before she got three feet off the last step, someone grabbed her arm and hugged her.
“Jillian, I am so sorry for your loss, I really will miss Harry. He was the light of my day. Never without a joke, that one.”
Jillian recognized the face, but the name eluded her at the moment. “Thank you”, was all Jill could come up with, realizing as she turned to walk away, the lady that had hugged her was Donna Benson, her father’s shared secretary in the Mathematics Department. She must have been the one that opened all of her dad’s mail, and recognized Jillian from the pictures that she regularly sent home to show dad that she really was O.K.
As this ritual played itself out four more times before she got across the room to Dr. Hartley, Jillian was beginning to realize that most, if not all, of these people were here because of her Dad. All of them were academics from universities and colleges far and wide. They all knew him and apparently liked him. Though this didn’t surprise her, she always knew he was a great guy, but she was a little jaded in her opinion…He was her Daddy.
She finally reached the corner where Steven was being verbally accosted by “Gray Beard, the Astrophysicist” and they exchanged pleasantries and a short conversation. She, of course, expressed her gratitude at the unnecessary effort that he put forth to be here, and he told her that it was the least he could do for his rising star, especially in her hour of need. “Blah, blah, blah,” she thought to herself, “you just like to watch me walk down the hall.”
The number of colleagues that were here overwhelmed Jillian, and she was a little taken aback by the number of people that wanted to talk to her. At about that time, Bob walked through the door. Jillian almost ran to him for protection.
“Wow, this place is busy,” he said looking around the lobby. “Looks like a geek convention,” he whispered with a smile.
“Yeah, I guess it does, doesn’t it,” she whispered back. “They are all here for Daddy’s funeral. Isn’t it amazing?”
“It doesn’t really surprise me, to be honest. I have been returning calls from these folks all day long. When I got back to my office, calls had been coming in since late last night, and have been coming in steadily all day. There are a lot of people that want to be here, for lots of different reasons.”
“Like?” she asked.
“He was a good friend. He was a great teacher that made me understand things that I thought I would never understand. He was a brilliant colleague and incredible person. Need more?”
“No, I think I got it.”
Bob took her by the elbow and slowly moved her through the group to the small hallway between the lobby and the solarium. They stood there for a few moments and discussed where she would like to go to dinner, since the restaurant at the Inn would probably be a bit busy. She decided to go to Dimitri’s. For some reason, that little Greek diner had always been Harry’s favorite. She felt as if that would be a fitting place for her to be tonight. Bob agreed. They left through the solarium door and drove the short distance across the square and parked outside the tie-dye store. They made their way down the dimly lit alley that was the entryway to the best baklava in the world, according to Barton.
Over the door and under the sign that said “Dimitri’s Diner” was a classic single light fixture. Curved up and over the door, finishing with a wide bell housing a single 100-watt bulb, the aromas and the hearty conversation filtered into the alley. The red and white checked curtains hanging across the windows were just as she remembered from her childhood.
The people that knew him, from his frequent visits had not heard that he had passed. Bob introduced Jillian to Dimitri before they sat down, and explained that Harry had died the previous day, to avoid any uncomfortable “Bob!! Where is you buddy, Harry?”-type conversations. Dimitri was visibly saddened by the news and offered his condolences to her and announced to the staff that whatever Jillian and Bob wanted, was on him tonight. No questions, no arguments, just do it. It was obvious to them both that Dimitri would not take “no” for an answer.
The food was fabulous, the time spent here was time spent close to her dad. There were several moments that Bob noticed her staring off into the distant corners of this place, her eyes sparkling as she remembered and tearing because he was gone.
.
As Bob returned to his office, his secretary approached and handed him a message. The President of Nesbitt had called to discuss the timing of a Memorial Service. Bob sat down at his desk and dialed the number on the message.
As Bob spoke to President Francis, his eyes roamed the room full of paperwork that would need to be addressed before Jillian returned to Arizona. He rubbed his left temple with his free hand as he contemplated this task, at the same time looking over his calendar to verify a date and time for the College’s Memorial Service. They settled on tomorrow afternoon at one. The faculty and staff would pay their respects to Dr. Barton at the Convocation Center, which would allow for overflow, if needed into an outdoor natural amphitheater that could easily be fitted with a relatively small number of speakers to allow everyone to hear, if not see, what was going on inside.
As soon as Bob hung up, he called the hotel to let Jillian know of the plan. He had her cell phone number, but thought if she was asleep he would just leave a message and it could be delivered now if she was available, or later if she was not. She would call him if there were a question.
Bob’s secretary came into the office, looking a little bit stressed.
“What is it Kathy?”
“There are a ton of messages from all over the country in your voice mail. Where would you like me to start? Or do you want to take care of them? They are all from people wanting information about funeral arrangements for Dr. Barton.”
Bob rubbed his temple again and looked up at her, “I will take care of them, Kathy. You worry about running the office, this isn’t your problem, it is mine. I will take care of it. Thank you for taking care of me, Kathy, I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Kathy smiled and left the office as Bob picked up his phone to listen to his voicemail.
He returned call after call, after call. Almost everyone he spoke to indicated that they would be at the funeral, at least. Many had expressed an interest in attending the memorial service as well. Almost every one of them also asked about Jillian. How she was doing, if she needed anything, things like that. It was readily apparent that almost all of them knew her, and had for a long time. Most of those that called were colleagues at other colleges, administrators, and former students. Nearly every one of the former students felt it necessary to impart some story to Bob about how Dr. Barton had made Math come alive for them, inspired them in some way to achieve, attain, create and otherwise succeed in some aspect of the educational world. He was tied up for two hours returning the calls that he had received in the past twelve hours. The realization of the size of this funeral was beginning to make itself evident.
Jillian called him at about 2. She agreed with all the arrangements that had been made to this point. This eased his mind a little. He was glad that there would be room for overflow for the memorial service, it looked like they were going to need it.
The small hotel was full. There were no more rooms to be had. Visitors from all over the country were here. The town was small. There were not a lot of things to do there, with the possible exception of perusing the small shops that ran the length of Main Street. There were antique shops, quite nice ones, as a matter of fact. There were shops that offered tee shirts, College apparel, handmade candy, old style everything available in this town. The typical small town with a liberal arts college in its midst, with those that have degrees that could only help them find work if they worked for themselves. It was that kind of Main Street. Quaint. Busy. Interesting.
The clientele at the Inn had become older, more conservative and more scholarly as the day passed. The lobby filled with serious-appearing people, sitting reading newspapers and magazines, looking for the most part bored. That is until they happen to notice someone that they recognize across the room. The lobby at the inn was taking on more the appearance of a convention, or family reunion than a hotel. There was a buzz of scholarly conversation in the lobby, as well as the bar and outside on the veranda by the time Jillian had prepared to venture out of her room again. She had finally gotten a fair amount of uninterrupted sleep. It was nearly 7 and the aroma of fine dining was permeating the entire second floor. As she made her way down the hallway toward the staircase, she noticed the level of conversation and looked over the railing on the second floor into the lobby. There were people wall-to-wall. She either knew or recognized a fair number of them.
As she scanned the faces, prior to descending the stairs, she noticed in the far corner, appearing to be trapped by a fairly large man with gray hair and an even grayer beard, was Dr. Hartley, the Chairman of the Department of Physics at Southwestern University, where Jillian. Jillian had just spoken to the office yesterday to let them know where she had gone. Strange that Sharon hadn’t called to let her know that Dr. Hartley was coming.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Jillian made her way directly to Steven Hartley to show her appreciation for his presence. Before she got three feet off the last step, someone grabbed her arm and hugged her.
“Jillian, I am so sorry for your loss, I really will miss Harry. He was the light of my day. Never without a joke, that one.”
Jillian recognized the face, but the name eluded her at the moment. “Thank you”, was all Jill could come up with, realizing as she turned to walk away, the lady that had hugged her was Donna Benson, her father’s shared secretary in the Mathematics Department. She must have been the one that opened all of her dad’s mail, and recognized Jillian from the pictures that she regularly sent home to show dad that she really was O.K.
As this ritual played itself out four more times before she got across the room to Dr. Hartley, Jillian was beginning to realize that most, if not all, of these people were here because of her Dad. All of them were academics from universities and colleges far and wide. They all knew him and apparently liked him. Though this didn’t surprise her, she always knew he was a great guy, but she was a little jaded in her opinion…He was her Daddy.
She finally reached the corner where Steven was being verbally accosted by “Gray Beard, the Astrophysicist” and they exchanged pleasantries and a short conversation. She, of course, expressed her gratitude at the unnecessary effort that he put forth to be here, and he told her that it was the least he could do for his rising star, especially in her hour of need. “Blah, blah, blah,” she thought to herself, “you just like to watch me walk down the hall.”
The number of colleagues that were here overwhelmed Jillian, and she was a little taken aback by the number of people that wanted to talk to her. At about that time, Bob walked through the door. Jillian almost ran to him for protection.
“Wow, this place is busy,” he said looking around the lobby. “Looks like a geek convention,” he whispered with a smile.
“Yeah, I guess it does, doesn’t it,” she whispered back. “They are all here for Daddy’s funeral. Isn’t it amazing?”
“It doesn’t really surprise me, to be honest. I have been returning calls from these folks all day long. When I got back to my office, calls had been coming in since late last night, and have been coming in steadily all day. There are a lot of people that want to be here, for lots of different reasons.”
“Like?” she asked.
“He was a good friend. He was a great teacher that made me understand things that I thought I would never understand. He was a brilliant colleague and incredible person. Need more?”
“No, I think I got it.”
Bob took her by the elbow and slowly moved her through the group to the small hallway between the lobby and the solarium. They stood there for a few moments and discussed where she would like to go to dinner, since the restaurant at the Inn would probably be a bit busy. She decided to go to Dimitri’s. For some reason, that little Greek diner had always been Harry’s favorite. She felt as if that would be a fitting place for her to be tonight. Bob agreed. They left through the solarium door and drove the short distance across the square and parked outside the tie-dye store. They made their way down the dimly lit alley that was the entryway to the best baklava in the world, according to Barton.
Over the door and under the sign that said “Dimitri’s Diner” was a classic single light fixture. Curved up and over the door, finishing with a wide bell housing a single 100-watt bulb, the aromas and the hearty conversation filtered into the alley. The red and white checked curtains hanging across the windows were just as she remembered from her childhood.
The people that knew him, from his frequent visits had not heard that he had passed. Bob introduced Jillian to Dimitri before they sat down, and explained that Harry had died the previous day, to avoid any uncomfortable “Bob!! Where is you buddy, Harry?”-type conversations. Dimitri was visibly saddened by the news and offered his condolences to her and announced to the staff that whatever Jillian and Bob wanted, was on him tonight. No questions, no arguments, just do it. It was obvious to them both that Dimitri would not take “no” for an answer.
The food was fabulous, the time spent here was time spent close to her dad. There were several moments that Bob noticed her staring off into the distant corners of this place, her eyes sparkling as she remembered and tearing because he was gone.