Don

Throughout my life’s path, I’ve encountered presidents of the United States and other highly placed officials, captains of industry, professional entertainers and athletes and others of notoriety. For the most part, I judged them to be just people. People with exceptional drive and/or gifts, but just people.

Seldom have I felt that I stood in the presence of greatness. An exception to that would be ninth grade.

Entering that year, we were assigned to “sections” that mapped your curriculum and teachers. You were in 9A, 9B, 9C, etc., but were told the allocation was random and meant nothing. Bull. The serious scholars were in 9A-C, average students followed that and so on, down to 9H which were the future criminals.

The last section was 9I which appeared to be a diverse collection of nonconformists they had no idea what to do with. I was in 9I.

This was nohingt new. The Philadelphia public school system had never seemed to know what to do with me. I had forever been diverted, accelerated or whatever. So, I greeted this latest device with no high expectations.

It was through 9I I encountered Don, our algebra teacher. Like the members of our class, he was an anomaly among the teachers who all tended to be pretty mundane and resigned to their fate of coping with the grist of our school system until they could locate better positions elsewhere. Don squealed into the parking lot every morning in his Chucks and a red Sunbeam Alpine, loaded for bear. Worst of all, in the minds of the establishment, he took an individual interest in his charges and even visited their homes. I thought he was progressive and motivated. The administration thought he was nuts.

Whereas the school system had labored to bump our divergent thinking processes back onto the defined and confined track, Don encouraged us to recognize and go with our strengths and helped us harness them in productive ways. The class was more about life than algebra.

At the end of the year, he called me aside and gave me a talk about what my talents were and how he was confident I would leverage them in my future. I was moved and inspired. From the many references to him I’ve come across over the years, I’m sure he had the same talk with hundreds of others. Doesn’t matter. It looks like we all benefitted.

I moved on and so did Don. He landed at a small state university and quickly installed innovative programs, becoming the youngest tenured professor in state history. He also started an outside business which went international and became exceedingly successful.

Don and I kept in touch over the years. No matter how busy he was with his teaching and business, he made the time for his people, or anyone else who wanted his counsel. I would venture to say that not everyone did. He was unpretentious and didn’t tolerate those who weren’t (hence the “Don” and not Dr. Donald…). He was incredibly astute and would have nothing to do with pseudo-intellectuals who did little more than parrot the works of others. An interchange with Don wasn’t a stroke session. His son-in-law was quoted in an article as saying:

"It was almost intimidating when I’d come visit the house when I first started dating (Don's daughter, Cathy) because you knew you had to be on the top of your game whenever you were around him. He just had an air about him that made you want to be your best."

That was Don. Come hard or go home. Be real or get out. If you’re weak of character and need the soft-soap, get a puppy. If you’re a square shooter, you couldn’t ask for a better friend. Just give him your honest effort and he’d fall on a grenade for you.

Our relationship wasn’t all sweetness and light. He didn’t hesitate to lambast me when he thought I wasn’t living up to my potential. But, he was also there for me when I hit the bumps in the road.

I’m thinking of Don because I tried to contact him today and his daughter informed me he died. A part of me died as well.