Yesterday, my husband and I were honored to escort my parents to the reunion of Fairfield University’s “pioneer ” class of 1951. Dad, eighty-nine years young, had been history professor to the fifty or so men attending. And yesterday, from morning greetings in the sun until goodbyes long after dark, he still was.
From his “carriage,” as he refers to the wheelchair by which he spun from table to table greeting “my boys,” he held forth once more. Time, it seemed, had bowed and looked away for the day as he regaled, encouraged, inspired, and taught (as he always has), by example. His boys responded with gratitude, affection, boisterousness, and love.
Thank you to those at Fairfield who made sure to bring him back. The day was a gift. And his story, his history, now rings more vividly than ever in his oldest daughter’s imagination.