I heard a
report on NPR where artists were protesting because ChatGPT user would ask it
to create a drawing or graphic in the style of whatever artist they might
choose and ChatGPT would create it with eerie likeness.People could get for free what the artist was
selling on a particular graphic art site.Does this application of AI necessitate a reconsideration of the
copyright laws or does it essentially make them null and void.
This gave
me an idea.Why not ask ChatGPT to write
a poem in my style?I did just that,
“Write a poem in the style of Mark Gavoor.”It came back saying I had not given it enough info confirming my status
in the Pantheon of poets.I revised my
query, “Compose a poem in the style of mdg-poetry.blogspot.com.”This time it generated a poem in a few
seconds.
In the
still of the night,
When all is calm and bright,
I sit and ponder in thought,
Of all the lessons I've been taught.
Of love
and loss, of pain and gain,
Of laughter, tears, and joys untold,
Of moments fleeting, like drops of rain,
And memories that never grow old.
I muse
upon the roads I've walked,
And all the paths that I have strayed,
Of moments where my heart was shocked,
And others where it felt conveyed.
And yet,
amidst the twists and turns,
That life has taken me through,
I know that with each rising morn,
A brighter future will ensue.
So I raise
my head to the sky,
And whisper a prayer for tomorrow,
For the strength to keep climbing high,
And the grace to weather all sorrow.
For I know
that with each passing day,
I'll find the courage to be strong,
And though life may lead me astray,
I'll find my way where I belong.
The themes
were a bit similar.The poem rhymed
where mine are all in free verse.ChatGPT’s poem was about twice as long as mine.I felt like it failed.
I was
feeling somewhat smug that I had one-upped ChatGPT.Good for me.Good for mankind.
This
morning I got a text from a friend, Meltem, who used to live here but moved
back to Turkey, the country of her birth.I played in a Turkish music she put together.In the text, she provided this verse in Turkish
and added “influential poetry, expressive, and says it all”:
Aşk ve kayıp, acı ve kazanç,
Kahkahalar, gözyaşları ve anlatılmamış sevinçler,
Yağmur damlaları gibi akıp giden anların,
Ve asla eskimeyen anılar.
It put it
through Google translate and didn’t recognize it, but .I ask her if she wrote it. Her response was “No, you did.”At that point I realized it was the second
verse of the ChatGPT poem:
Of love
and loss, of pain and gain,
Of laughter, tears, and joys untold,
Of moments fleeting, like drops of rain,
And memories that never grow old.
Meltem
went on to say it ought to be the lyrics of a Turkish art song in the Rast
maqam.I had to agree, though I was
favoring the maqam of Uşşak.
On February 6, a magnitude 7.8 earthquake
struck Turkey and Syria causing massive destruction and, as of this
writing, over 30,000 deaths. There have been posts on social media from
Turks and Syrians saying they are safe or, sadly, that a dear friend or
family member has died because of the earthquake. In looking at the map of where the
earthquake hit, we see the cities of Marash, Malatya, Ayntab, Aleppo,
and even extending to Adana and Dikranagerd, historically part of
Cilician Armenia. There are reports of Armenians, who still live in the
region, having perished in the quake. Udi Levon Trsyn reported,
“Not a single building in Maraş Nurdağı is solid.” Another musician
acquaintance reported that Stepan Epremyan, a beautiful singer and
performer from Diyarbakir, lost both friends and family in this
disaster. It is very sad. Quite appropriately, the world is shocked
and reaching out to help however they can. Search and rescue crews as
well as supplies are pouring in from all over the world. Armenia has
sent aid to Syria and Turkey. The Armenian Relief Society (ARS) has a special fund to support the surviving victims of this devastating earthquake. Everyone is doing what they can. It is heartening to see such press coverage
and an outpouring of assistance from people who are touched by the
destruction and loss of life. It is the right, humane and decent
reaction to such an event. And yet… We, as Armenians, are again brutally faced
with the plight of our brothers and sisters in Artsakh. One might think
that an outpouring of humanitarian assistance might actually be a
positive example to Erdogan and Aliyev to cease the blockade of Artsakh
and allow food, fuel and medicine to be supplied to the people they are
trying to starve and force to comply with evacuating their ancestral
homes. But, no, this is not the case. The rest of the world is equally complacent
in this regard. Countries will do all they can, as they should, to help
the victims of this natural disaster but can conveniently ignore the
Armenians of Artsakh. The world press reports on the relief efforts in
Turkey and Syria, the death toll and remarkable stories of survival.
They will do so with great vigor until the story is no longer a story.
From my vantage point, there has been essentially zero coverage of the
unfolding tragedy in Artsakh. It was good for Armenians to gather in
Washington, DC last week in support of Artsakh. There were protests and
meetings with congressional and administration leaders to advocate for
meaningful legislation to cut military aid to Azerbaijan and other
positive actions for Artsakh. I have no inside knowledge, but I am not
holding out much hope for any substantive action soon. As a result of
our activism, an anti-blockade resolution has been introduced
in the House. We all certainly hope it passes and has enough teeth in
it to end this starvation siege. On October 29, 2019, Congress
passed House
Resolution 219 acknowledging the Armenian Genocide. Since then, the US
has been mute on the subject while Turkey took it as an affront and
decided to make the Armenians pay. A year later in 2020, Turkey, through
their surrogate Azerbaijan started a war that took more than half of
Artsakh from us. They now want the rest of Artsakh and may well get it
given Armenia’s lack of military capability to do anything and that no
other country is willing to come to the aid of the Armenians. The real
fear is that Turks will not stop until… I can’t even type it. Varak Ghazarian
is a young man I have gotten to know through reporting on the AYF
Olympics these many years. He did a walking tour of Artsakh well before
the 2020 war. It was fascinating to read his reports of meeting and
staying with villagers in the region. Since the blockage, he has posted a story every day. I quote from his Day 59 post:
No one is going to come and save us. Just
as history has proven time and time again, we are worthless to the
world. It is time to build our worth amongst ourselves. Our current
homeland should be our main goal. Our current state is threatened.
Therefore, all of its people must bear the responsibility of
guaranteeing its safety and well being.
The world is helping Turkey and Syria as
well we should. They should demand the same for Artsakh. It seems only
right and fair. The same countries aiding in the earthquake relief
should demand the end of the starvation siege of Artsakh. It seems only
right and fair. But, while we should always advocate for such help, we
should not and cannot count on it.
An early
achievement of mankind was developing the ability to start fires at will and
control fires to aid in staying warm, keeping predators away, and cooking.I am not sure the order in which this all happened,
but I am guessing that keeping warm was the first use of fire.Cooking, and I am only speculating, was
probably later in coming.I am pretty
sure of one thing and that is, from the get-go, man had to deal with the smoke
that comes with wood and brush fueled fires.I would imagine our ancestors learned very quickly where to sit relative
to the breeze or wind direction to get the benefit of the glow and warmth with
being overcome by the smoke.
As man
evolved and developed, we created shelters be they tents, lodges, cabins, and
eventually homes.We brought fire into
these dwellings and very quickly learned that holes or vents were needed to rise
and escape the dwelling lest the smoke overwhelm everyone.This is why tents had holes in the top, this
is why hearths with chimneys were developed.We wanted all the benefits of indoor fires with none of the smoke.
Any fire
has some kind of emissions.A fire is a chemical
reaction, the fuel, be it wood, coal, wax, liquids, and gases are consumed by
the and transformed into residues that can be solids, liquids, or gases.This is true whether we see or smell the
emissions.Natural gas is a favored fuel
for heating homes and cooking.When
burned it has no odor.It is odorless
before it is burned and we have added a unique fragrance just so we can smell
leaks.But, because it burns odorless,
there are still emissions.In our homes,
we have gas furnaces, gas water heaters, and gas ranges and ovens.
The
furnaces and water heaters all vent the emission via chimneys but our ranges do
not.Recently, there a study was
published that showed natural gas emissions, the colorless and odorless smoke,
contains chemicals we might want to consider worrying about.From the PSE:
Bringing science to energy policy we see the following results:
Natural
gas stoves emit up to 1.3 percent of the gas they use as unburned methane,
notably with over three-quarters of methane emissions occurring when a
stove is turned off.
Emissions
of health-damaging air pollutants, such as nitrogen oxides, were found to
be directly related to the use of the gas stove.
Over
the course of one year, leaks from gas stoves in the U.S. have a climate
impact comparable to the carbon dioxide emissions from roughly 500,000
passenger vehicles.
Simply
igniting a burner releases the same amount of methane gas that would be
expected during 10 minutes of burner use.
In
homes with poor ventilation, small kitchens, or without the use of range
hoods, using the cooktop or oven can cause concentrations of nitrogen
dioxide to surpass the EPA’s outdoor guidelines for one-hour exposure
within several minutes. There are currently no indoor air quality
standards.
When these
results came to light, there was talk about enacting regulations to either ban
gas stoves or to ensure proper ventilation.A lot of people freaked out at the prospect of having to give up their gas
ranges.Of course, it was a lot of
hoopla.The story died down as quickly
as it flared up.At this point, it is all
but forgotten.
There was
no way we were ever going to ban gas stoves overnight.It would simply have been too costly and put
undo financial burden on households for a risk that we have been living with
for decades.
We
probably need indoor air quality standards.Why not?But, it is better to
have a plan than a knee jerk reaction.We
need a plan and to be phased in over time and assure that the “fixes” are
economical and effective.
Claude with his favorite Packard My photo at a local car show
It is the one-year
anniversary of the passing of my dear friend Claude.He passed away on February 2, 2022.Tomorrow, Feb 5, I have arranged for his one-year
requiem
at our church as is our tradition.
Claude was
an amazing person.He lived life with a
passion, bold and gregarious, that many of us only wish we could.This totally matched his personality which in
a word was infectious.
I have
known Claude since the 1970s through the Armenian Youth Federation, a wonderful
organization that has help bond Armenian friendships for 90 years.He grew up in Granite City, IL where
Armenians settled to work in the steel mills, and I grew up in Detroit where
the auto industry provided the same attraction to that first generation Armenians
that came to the US.
In those,
our teenage and college years, we were acquaintances for the most part.Upon graduating from college, he took a job
in the investment business in Chicago, married a Detroit girl, Audrey, and eventually
settled in Lake Forest where my wife grew up and my in-laws lived.My in-laws, Harold and Mary Mardoian, would
include Claude and Audrey at family gatherings and holidays.So, Claude was there many times when we
visited Lake Forest.Our friendship grew
from these visits.
Our
friendship and bond really became something special when we moved to Lake
Forest and we spent a lot more time together.When we were looking for our house, we actually put a bid in on a house right
next door to Claude and Audrey.I called
him and told him of this possibility, and we were both way too excited about the
prospect.Ultimately, we did not buy
that house because it required a complete re-do on the inside.We ended up buying an even nicer house in a pristine
move-in condition.Instead of being next
door neighbors, we lived two miles apart.We laughed about almost being next door neighbors until he passed away.
As Claude
had a passion for life, the passion was first and foremost for his family and
friends.His wife and daughters, Lena
and Christina, meant everything to him.He
did everything for them and always would say that they had it so good he “wanted
to come back as one of his daughters.” Claude spoke with great reverence and extraordinary
love for his grandmother.He would bring
her up all the time with references to the lessons she taught him, the food she
made, and the unconditional love she had for him.I wish I could have met this lady that he always
talked about.
Claude
embraced his chosen profession as financial advisor and investment counselor. His personality and acumen endeared clients
to him.He was always just a phone call
or text away and he was always on the phone.He was always having financial reviews and often over dinner.He started at Smith Barney and worked his way
to a top performer at Citi which had bought Smith Barney.In 2011, he started his own business, CGO
Wealth Management.He was so excited and
proud to have his own office and loved having an office in Highland Park and
not having to trek downtown anymore.He
did interviews in the press and on TV.He recorded his own videos and was even talking about writing a book
about investing.
Claude
loved baseball.It was a passion unlike I
have ever seen but that can be said for everyone of Claude’s passionate interests.He read all the classic baseball books and
would quote statistics, stories, and even quotes from them.He was a lifelong fan of his beloved St.
Louis Cardinals.In Chicago, he had
season tickets to both the White
At a Cubs Cardinals game in 2014
Sox and the Cubs.He treated me to a game every now and then.It was a real treat.And he did it in such great style.He had excellent seats and always had access
to the executive clubs at both stadiums where we eat well, and then make our
way to the seats.As enjoyable as the games
were, it was the time spent in the car conversing on anything and everything
that were even more memorable.
Claude
loved two countries, the United States and Armenia.He has read the definitive biographies of
more Presidents and visited more Presidential Libraries than anyone I know.He admired Theodore Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy,
and Ronald Reagan.He was certainly a
market oriented fiscal conservative but a bit more liberal in when it came to
social policy.We had great discourse on
the path this country should take.He could
listen to opposing viewpoints with a measured calm the whole country would benefit
from adopting
As for
Armenia and Armenian causes, Claude was active, involved, and generous. He gave of his time, investment advice, and
donations to the All Saints Church here in Chicago and the Armenian National Committee
(ANC) of which he was the head of ANC-IL for several years.He came to St. Gregory Armenian Church in
Chicago where we performed my From Ararat to America Concert.He never stopped raving about that concert, how
rich our culture is, how much he loved the music he heard and learned about at
our concert.
Claude was
a collector, a most serious collector. He had a crazy number of baseball shirts
and hats.He had a fine collection of
cigars of which half were Cuban.Since
starting CGO, Claude got into vintage cars and autographs.I remember when brought his first vintage
car, a red 1957 Thunderbird.It was a
beautiful convertible.He brought it
over to show me and give me a ride in it.He next bought a cream yellow 1939 Packard Darin convertible with a
rumble seat that I once climbed into.He
did not stop there and kept acquiring cars.He bought one garage to store his dozen cars and then sold that and
bought an even bigger warehouse to hold his very impressive collection of 50-60
cars.He had more Packards than any
other nameplate. His favorite was a 1938 Packard Super Eight Sedanca de Ville with a most impressive
history.Upon his passing, Jay Leno bought his 1956 Packard
Caribbean.He had cars from the 30s through
the 80s.He had Natalie Wood's Buick Riviera.He had an MG which he wanted to sell me because
it was my initials.I may have bought it
but for the fact it was incredibly difficult getting in and out of the small
sports car.Because of him I did buy two
cars.One is my everyday car:Old
New Car – New Older Car.The other one
car is my one soon to be vintage car:A
New, Even Older, Car.I cannot help
but think of him every time I drive around town with the top down in my SL.
His
autograph collection was just as extensive and impressive.It ranged from the Rat Pack to the Three
Stooges, from Lincoln to Reagan, The Beatles, and so many others that I cannot
recall.The collection also reflected
his love for baseball and US Presidents. He had hundreds of autographs and collages of autographs and photos of sportsmen, artists, entertainers, and political leaders he admired.
Claude was
a natural comic and mimic.He was very
good at both.He would regale anyone he
was with be it just one person or an entire dinner party.At baseball games, he would provide the play
by play as Harry Carey.He did a great
Winston Churchill.Being a student of the
great man, he also had memorized some of his greatest quotes.He could be JFK or Ronald Reagan. He would
leave voice messages in the voice of Churchill, John Lennon, a iconic Armenian Priest
from our youth, folks in our circle of friends, and the eccentric and colorful
members of out Armenian community.
He would
call me up and tell me to meet him at his warehouse which he affectionately called
“the man cave.”He would show me his latest
acquisition, or we would just have a soda and chat.I went with him to look at cars he was
thinking about buying.He would call and
just pick me up to tour around on a weekend afternoon in one of his cars.I would do the same in one of my two
cars.I went to a few local shows where
he was showing a car or two.I was always
amazed by the number of people who knew him and how close he was to
everyone.Claude had the same impact on
everyone.He was a dear friend to so many;
more than anyone else I have ever known. There was a uniqueness to each friendship and a
sameness as well.We all miss him
dearly.He was a truly special guy in this
regard.
For the
past few years, we knew Claude was not well.But he hid the severity of his cancer that he never told me anything
about it.I truly believe he thought he
was going to beat it.He was that kind
of positive guy.He was about to begin a
major renovation on the man cave.Another
Armenian friend was to have done the renovation spent a lot of time with Claude drawing up plans.Claude showed me the drawings for
what he was planning to do.He was going
to have a truly gorgeous space for his office, autographs, and cars.It was going to be a space that could be used
for fundraisers and other social gatherings.He showed me these plans a month before he passed.He did not believe he was going to pass and
he wanted to live his life to fullest as long as he could.He did just that.Claude lived his life fully, boldly, and
passionately, while fighting through the treatments, until the very end.This memory of my friend’s will and drive
that will stay with forever. I wish I
had the money to buy his building, his cars, and realize his vision for the
venue.I would have certainly done it if
could.
While I
miss my friend, I think fondly of the many memories of our time together which
are all treasured and an inspiration to me. The year of morning is coming to an end this
weekend.I will never stop missing him
nor reflecting on our friendship and the times we had.
===
In this time,
I have chosen to remember friends that have passed away.Please read Late
Fall or Early Winter? to get a perspective of why I am doing this.
This posting marks the beginning
of the 20th year of this writing project.This is the first post of Volume XX.In the first nineteen volumes, there have
been 790 posts.
It began in February of 2004 as a
monthly e-letter to friends and family.Marilyn
Zavidow, a commuter friend at the time, named it - The Other Side of Fifty:A Monthly Letter of Musings and Meandering.In 2009, I moved it over to this blog and
kept the name the same even though the posts are more frequent than monthly,
and the e-letter is but a memory.As stated
in many Anniversary e-letters and blog posts, this was all inspired by the
monthly letter of the esteemed French American attorney Aram J.
Kevorkian.
As I have often wrote about
procrastination and the struggle to sustain long term projects, this body of
writing stands as a proud example of a wonderful and rewarding long-term
project.People kindly comment on how I
bring insight and rationale to confusing issues we all face personality and in
society.Of course, the whole blog about
nothing is the humorous and sarcastic side that is so necessary in life these
days.For certain, I do adhere to Marilyn’s
tagline and do certainly muse and meander.
In these Anniversary letters or
posts, I talk about my writing habits and processes.My minimum length post is 500 words.Other than it being a nice round number, how did
I come to this minimum wordcount?That
seemed to be the minimum essay length in my senior year of high school and
freshman writing class at Michigan.
As it is the beginning of the
semester, I have recently week assigned papers in my Operations Management and
Principles of Microeconomics courses.I
give a relatively detailed directions for what the papers should be about and
what I expect including the rubric I use to grade the paper.I purposely don’t stipulate a minimum word or
page length.Invariably, a student will
ask, “How long should the paper be professor?”
I wait such questions and launch
into a short monologue on the subject.I
ask the student, “Pretend I was your boss in some corporate job and asked you
to prepare an analysis and report on some topic critical to our business.If you then asked me ‘How long do you want
the report to be?’What do you think
would be going through my mind at that point?”The student would answer something like, “Long enough, I guess.” I would
respond, “Yes, but I would also be thinking, ‘Why did we hire this person?’”I will then give them a range like “500-700 seems
to be the sweet spot for students that do well on this assignment,” and we move
on from there.
I am happy to mark the start of my
2Oth year of doing this in the year I turn 70.
I close with thanking Ms.
Trosko! Which gets me to exactly 500 words for this post.
I was running some errands
today.As I started my car, it was tuned
to WBEZ, the local National Public Radio Station.There was a lady speaking with a host.What show was it?Who was the host and the guest, I had no
clue.I did surmise that the lady was an
author, and she was speaking about the large number of years between the
publication of her first book and her second, which I guessed was recently
published.The author attributed the
long gap to two of her personality traits: “procrastination and perfectionism.”
Well, any reader of this blog
knows that I can relate to procrastination.I have written about this topic often.
I wish this was bloggy bit was to
report that I have found a magic formula or secret way of conquering procrastination.Sadly, that is not the case.It is still something I deal with on a
constant basis though it does ebb and flow.
As author on the radio was talking
about the large number of years between her first and second book, my thoughts
drifted to how I have always wanted to write a book, but as yet, have not.I have the body of writing in this blog.I have a lot of poetry, Mark Gavoor’s Poetry, which I have
subdivided into four “books” by name only.Beyond, the desire, I have done practically nothing about publishing any
of these.I have looked into self-publishing
but have not acted mostly because the templates don’t seem intuitive, and I am
too cheap to pay for any of the third party options.We can attribute this to procrastination for
sure.
The author on the radio also
confessed to being a perfectionist as a reason for her delayed second
book.Well, thankfully, I cannot claim
that as an affliction in vocation or any of my avocations.While I strive for perfection, I have no
issues with posting and submitting writing that is not perfect.I will perform songs or musical offerings
that I know aren’t perfect.I know
sometimes that they are kind of good, but there are other times, well, I am OK
with good enough.
So, what am I if I am not a
perfectionist?A perfectionist is a very
exact trait.It is not allowing or being
comfortable anything less than flawless and the absolute best.What is the opposite of being a
perfectionist?I googled “antonym of
perfectionist” and got unsatisfactory, less than perfect, results.The words given were flexible, imperfect, inaccurate,
and many others that didn’t fit the bill for me.Maybe imperfectionist would work or perhaps
mediocratist (a follower of Mediocrates).But, neither of these words work for me.I am not striving for mediocrity or for just good enough, though
sometimes, good enough is indeed good enough.I do try to do my best and and try to improve, over time, on what my
best is.
There is certainly a relationship
between procrastination and perfectionism.I agonized about starting my e-letter in February of 2004.I wanted whatever I wrote to be perfect.Perfectionism, and of course procrastination,
was probably the reason I didn’t write more for public consumption before
that.Basically, I just decided to not
worry about it and do the best I could which has been my approach to music
performance since my first public gig.
I publish bloggy bits with spelling
errors, usually homonyms, bad grammar, or awkard syntax.Sometimes, my writing is muddled and not
precise enough.Most of this is
attributable to one thing:I am a horrible
proofreader of my own writing (The
Proofreading Conundrum).Yesterday, my wife pointed out that there were a number of errors in my
piece on my departed friend Gianfranco.I read it again and fixed several
errors.I should probably read it again
and will probably find more errors.Moving
forward, maybe I should wait and proofread the piece the next day and then post
it.If I ever win the lottery, I think I
would rather hire an editor and assistant before buying an extravagant car,
boat, or house.
Lastly, I did make a resolution to
try to overcome my procrastination via continuous improvement (dang I teach this
afterall).Given a short month, I am
encouraged but a long way off from where I want to be.
My good friend and colleague at
North Park University, Gianfranco Farruggia, passed away suddenly on January
15.
Gian and I both taught in the
School of Business and Nonprofit Management at North Park.He joined the University in 2003 after
earning his PhD from The Union Institute in 2001.We first met when I joined the School of
Business and Nonprofit Management in 2014.We instantly became friends.I
was assigned a faculty mentor who did not really have the time for me that Fall
Semester of 2014.Gianfranco took me
under his wing and was my de facto mentor teaching me the ropes of the administrative
responsibilities, the ins and outs of student advising, and basically being a
great buddy just providing guidance and great advice on all the nuances of my
new career.
Over the ensuing years, that friendship
grew.He was among my select few best
friends at North Park.Whenever we were on
Campus, we would meet in his office or mine and chat.We would go to lunch and chat.We talked about anything and everything from
politics, University issues and news, our families, his Italian heritage, and
my Armenian, and just about anything else that was in the news or came to our
minds.We could be serious, thoughtful, academic,
philosophical, nostalgic, and, of course, humorous in our talks and time spent
together.I loved that we could talk
about anything.We could disagree and
still discuss without the kind of polarization that is so prevalent these days.
We would do this over espresso, as
we both had machines in our offices, or over lunch. We last talked on Thursday, January 12.We planned to meet on our first day of
classes on Wednesday, January 18 for coffee before my 8 am class and then again
for lunch before attending the University Martin Luther King commemoration.That did not happen.I don’t think I will ever have a morning
coffee without thinking of Gian.
Gianfranco was as true and as good
and genuine a people person as I have ever known.He knew and kept in touch with faculty,
staff, administration, former colleagues, and associates.I have heard many pleasant and similar stories
in this regard since his passing.Each
one has warmed my heart.He was engaging
with everyone the same way he was with me.People loved and admired him.If
he got excited about something or upset about a something political at the
university or in local, national, or international politics, he would emphatically
make his points and use the hand gestures in a way I can only describe as
Italian.He might disagree with folks on
campus and get aggravated, but he was quick to forgive and for the most part
forget.
We were the same age.We were both turning 70 this year. It was very likely that we would have had low
key celebrations spanning the entire year.Sadly, that is not to be.
Here are some examples of our
buddy banter.Being just one month older
than me, I took to calling him my elder.We were both on the Faculty Senate.He was elected as a School of Business and Nonprofit Management in the
last year of my three-year term.I took
to calling him the junior senator.He
pointed out that he served in the Senate well before I joined North Park.After that I referred to him as the elder
statesman which he liked.When he would
come to my office for espresso, I would always ask him if he wanted a corto (short
or normal shot) or lungo (long or double shot) knowing he always took a
short.He read every one of my blog
posts and loved to ask me, “Where do you come up with this stuff?”or “One day, I am going to figure out how
your mind works.”I admired his easy-going
professorial chic wardrobe.I always
told him I wanted him to take me shopping.We had a lot of laughs.Sometimes,
I thought of ourselves as the grumpy old Muppet guys, Statler and Waldorf.
Gian was born in Sicily and came
to the US as a young lad.He loved his
Sicilian roots, Italian cars, Italian cuisine, and, of course, the
language.He has family in Sicily.Over the years he had gone and visited
several times.He always talked about
how wonderful life was there.This past
summer, after all the Covid restrictions, he spent almost a month there.He came back a rejuvenated man.He enjoyed it so much he was set on moving
there upon retirement.He, also, went back during
the Christmas break.He would send me several
photos a day of where he was and what he was doing.He was
planning to go again in September for a family wedding.To celebrate his returnm, I had found what I thought was an excellent Italian restaurant and
café in Wilmette I wanted to take him there and get his expert opinion on their
quality and authenticity.He was
planning on taking a few of us to Calo Ristorante in Chicago which met his high
standards.
Many folks on campus reached out
to me to express their condolences on Gian’s passing.All of them said they knew how close we were
and commented on how often the saw us together on campus.I never really thought about how much time we
were together on campus.It was that
kind of very natural and comfortable friendship.
Gian was an excellent
professor.I could write about this but
it is better coming from two of his former students.
Lydia Vander Stelt (2019, 2022)
wrote this about Gian on a LinkedIn post: “He brought incredible amounts of
passion and insight both in and outside the classroom. He was intentional about
making local nonprofit connections and highlighting their work. He even had us
sit in on board meetings which was an important opportunity - all things I have
taken with me upon graduating!”
Another student of his, Jomarie
Gonzales (2018), commented on Lydia’s post: “Farruggia and I had a quick
connect here on LinkedIn just a few weeks ago. He was always a genuine
supporter and had an eye for spotting talent in the classroom. So glad he knew
the likes of you, and vice versa. He is a very missed professor indeed.”
Both Lydia and Jomarie perfectly captured
the essence of the beloved Professor.
In the past year, I have lost several
friends and acquaintances.It has
brought me to the realization that it is the beginning of time for my
generation to pass on.It was not a
sudden revelation but more like a gradual realization.
I am not sure how to react.It is certainly a bit sobering.No matter how I react, the frequency of folks
about my age passing away will increase in the coming years.I will have to come to terms with losing close
friends and moving forward without them.Of course, this is assuming it is not my demise others will be coping
with.We are entering that season.
I remember when I first learned about
death and that everyone will die.I was
not pleased to have this knowledge.I
was just a kid and I remember wondering “who invented this?”It seemed like a bad design, a huge quality
defect in the system.Soon, like we all do, I just accepted that this
is just a part of life.It is inevitable.
I played at a wedding in Detroit,
maybe 10 years ago.I was playing with
my first band, the Johnites, it was a lovely reunion.The parents of the bride wanted the same band
that played at their wedding.It was
a pretty cool experience.Midway through the evening,
I realized there only a few people at the wedding my parents’ age. They didn't even fill an entire table.It was the first time I realized we were quickly
becoming the elder generation.
I recall how my grandmother, who
lived to 101, outlived all of her peers.My mother expressed a bit of exasperation at seeing the same happen to her.
In December of 2018, my good friend Angel
passed away.It had a great impact on me
and it took me a year to get my head around it and eulogize him in a blog.As mentioned above, there have been four
friends that passed away this past year that I want to eulogize and remember in
this blog.I have yet to do one of
them.Basically, it is the same reason as
with Angel’s passing.I start to write a remembrance, a eulogy, and basically don’t like what I am writing.I believe my thoughts are clouded with sadness
and emotion and I cannot capture the essence of the person and what the meant
to me in exactly the right way.So, I
wait.As the sadness dissipates with
time and I reflect on my friend, I can write the right portrayal.
I have several topics on which I
have categories and a tagline.I write
about the music I play, For the Love of the Music, I write about Armenian
themes and issues, Chidem Inch, about Quality, Annals of Quality, and now obituaries
or eulogies.I expect to write for or
five of these in the next few weeks.I
would prefer never to have to write another, but that will not be the case.My
50th high school reunion was last Spring. I was surprised how many of my classmates had
passed on including about a third of the people I would have loved to see again.
This probably reads somewhat glum. Oddly, I don’t really feel that glum and I am not sure why. I guess it is more sobering than glum. I look forward to posting the eulogies of my
friends who passed away this past year.
