This year has been a hard one, as my friends know, going back to the fall. Last November, in addition to the horror of Trump being elected, someone who I adored at work had a sudden brain aneurysm and died within three days. It hasn't been the same at HDS ever since. Things never will be the same, of course, and yes, I know: that's life. But.
But Harry Huff was one in a million , one in a million billion trillion. To know him was to love him which we all did, deeply. In the last few weeks I have described him variously this way: A musician, a teacher, and someone who I was lucky enough to sing with and call friend. Harry Huff was “Minister of Music” at Old South Church, Director of Music and Adjunct Faculty at Harvard Divinity School and just the most marvelous, funny, loving, kind man.
Harry was a child prodigy with perfect pitch, who taught himself to play the piano and organ. He came from Tennessee and ADORED Dolly Parton. He could riff on Duke Ellington's sacred music as easily as he could perform Bach. Old South had a packed house for his memorial service. He was so talented...and kind...and generous of spirit. Others knew him better than I, but the fact is that if you were his friend, you felt like you were the *only* person on the planet who mattered to him.
So the loss of Harry was and still is inconceivable to me.
The day after he died, I stayed in bed all day crying, listening to his recording of "Will There Really Be a Morning " over and over, and created a Facebook page dedicated to his memory. I could probably write a book about Harry but I'm already crying so I will get to my point.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cmhDDLCSI0
This past Friday and Saturday, HDS threw the biggest party of its life, as the school concluded its year-long Bicentennial celebration. Two days of programming were planned, with Saturday being a special all-class reunion for alums. There were panels and lectures, tours and toasts, an address from President Drew Faust and of course, lovely music, fancy desserts in tiny cups on trays and beautiful flowers.
We had several tents surrounding our main building to hold all the people and the activity. But the funny thing is that when the first panel discussion began on Friday morning, I didn't go. I had some financial odds and ends to take care of and as I sat at my desk running reports, I realized I just wasn't feeling like a party-girl. The end of April is the end of the academic year, the point at which even in NON-celebratory years we are just plain worn out. And I? I was feeling like there was a cloud of exhaustion over me, and I just didn't want to party. The all-campus party was scheduled to kick off at 4, and I thought I would make an appearance then leave.
When the music began to plan, I thought about Harry, which didn't help. I thought: God, Harry would have LOVED this. He loved celebrations and this one would have blown his mind.
After lunch, I decided to go over to the garden and spend some time measuring the beds for a chicken manure delivery. The sun had come out after a cloudy morning. I pulled the tape measure horizontally down and across each bed, feeling the warmth on my back. I looked at the oregano, sage, rosemary and lemon balm and the bed of garlic that had returned from winter sleep. The rhubarb had doubled in size over the past week. I tallied up the square footage and realized that the garden had done what it always did for me: it brought me back to life.
As I was crossing to go back to my office, I heard someone call my name. It was an alum who I'd been wanting to get to know for at least two years. I had been reading her marvelous blog: Beauty Tips for Ministers for years. Going by the moniker PeaceBang, she is a UU minister, an incredible writer and a clear-eyed thinker. We had met once briefly and had corresponded, promising to get together for iced coffee but just hadn't found time to get together. But there she was, standing on the sidewalk. We got cold beverages and sat in the sun for almost two hours. PeaceBang was exactly the kindred spirit that I thought she would be. That was my first gift of the day.
At four when the party began in earnest, I joined the crowd under the tent. Three different people told me that a woman who we'd heard was coming to HDS in that fall as a writer-in-residence was there at the party. Terry Tempest Williams is another one of my s/heroes. She is an activist and conservationist and a beautiful writer. I had been giddy with excitement, hearing that she would be coming so I couldn't believe she was there then. It was hard to even move in the tent because it was so crowded. Just about when I was thinking I wouldn't see her until the fall, someone who knew her saw her and called me over. The person who introduced us had already shown her the garden and told her that she had to meet me because I care so much about sustainability on campus. I am not gonna lie: I was so overwhelmed that I gushed, as I shook her hand. I have no idea what I said and I hope I didn't embarrass myself, though I may have. It was a surreal moment. One of MY idols saying how much she was looking forward to getting to work with me next year.
I left that night, just floating on air.
On Saturday, I went back for alumni day because I had offered to give tours of the garden and our labyrinth. All morning, I had many wonderful conversations with the alums from my almost thirteen-years at HDS. So many good hearts, out doing work in the world in countless ways, trying to make a difference. But there were three in particular, three whose stories I will hold close to my heart, not because of any particular success or goal, but because they have all been through hell and are going through it still. They are persevering, working on personal issues of health -- physical and mental, and institutionalized racism, yet still holding onto forward motion, going towards the ideals that brought them to HDS in the first place. It's one of the blessing of HDS, that these stunning, creative, hopeful souls come every year. I am privileged to be able to know them while they are with us and after they graduate. I get to listen to them and celebrate with them in their successes and then offer them tissues, tea, and M & Ms, when they come to the office in tears. I am honored to be held in their trust.
It's all one long interconnected story. That's the thing. It's about trust, community, and connection. The weekend held magic. I couldn't see it or feel it at first, but there was an amazing energy, contained in community.
This week, we will begin to interview applicants to replace Harry. It's an inconceivable task. I don't want to do it, but I will. The story goes on and like music, it doesn't end.
And the encore for this week? It's persistence. Keep on keeping on, friends. You know I have your backs.
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