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Up until my Sophomore year, I lived and grew up in Providence, Utah. As a child in elementary school I had a continual and growing love of learning. My imagination primed by the countless hours of being read to aloud by one or both parents nightly, I excelled in school and quickly found that math soon became my favorite subject. I found it frustrating, and hard, but by mind seemed to crave the challenge math presented. I had little to no friends, and soon found them in the form of books. Up until 4th grade, my reading level was very low, however, up until then I had never understood what a book could do. A book takes you out of your own world, and teaches you moral principles without any harm to you. When I realized this, my love of books skyrocketed,
I began to read not out of entertainment but out of curiosity, for in each new book I discovered an element of real life. It is possible that I will learn more about society through literature than I ever will through personal experience. Having lived a safe, relatively sheltered life for only seventeen years, I don’t have much to offer in regards to worldly wisdom. Reading has opened doors to situations I will never encounter myself, giving me a better understanding of others and their situations. Through books, I’ve escaped from slavery, been tried for murder, and lived through the Cambodian genocide. I’ve been an immigrant, permanently disabled, and faced World War II death camps. Without books, I would be a significantly more close-minded person. My perception of the world has been more significantly impacted by the experiences I've gained through literature than those I've gained
On November 16th each of the individuals on this altar were to take part in what would have been the most special day in Michael’s life… the day he would have taken Stephanie’s hand in marriage. Instead we stand before you today and attempt to eulogize a great friend and beloved brother.
Yesterday, as Martin's friends poured into town, I was struck by how many distinct sets of friends he had. Family, skaters, punks, his Swampland posse, his boys and his girls, Professors, colleagues, Ann Arbor friends, Chicago friends, cyberspace friends who'd never met him "in the flesh"... Trying to walk down the street with him was an exercise in frustration, as Martin's fans flocked to him like the Pied Piper. He was so much, to so many. One of his greatest gifts to us is each other.
I met Rich at freshman orientation at Lynchburg College in August, 1975. My freshman orientation packet said that I was to meet with my group at my assigned table in the dining hall. After getting my dinner, I found the right table and sat down across from another freshman. There was no one else at the table. I think it was fate. After what seemed like a couple of minutes, a conversation started. We talked about our hometowns. He told me that his family lived in Manassas, but that most of his life was spent in Naples, Italy. As you all know, he was very proud of his Italian heritage. He was very proud of his life, family, and friendships in Italy. After awhile in this conversation, I asked him if knew anything about school sports. “I would like to run cross country,” I said. Well with that question, there was much to talk about. It did not take too long to realize that while I enjoyed running, for him, it was his passion.
On behalf of my family, I want to thank you all for joining us here today to celebrate John’s long and amazingly fruitful life—a life of love extended, commitments kept, and faith observed.
I'd like to say a few words of tribute to this special man, from me and on behalf of other close friends of his.
As a child, I have always been fond of reading books. My mother would read to me every single night before I went to bed and sometimes throughout the day. It was the most exciting time of the day when she would open the cabinet, with what seemed to be hundreds of feet tall, of endless books to choose from. When she read to me, I wanted nothing more than to read just like her. Together, we worked on reading every chance we had. Eventually I got better at reading alone and could not put a book down. Instead of playing outside with my brothers during the Summer, I would stay inside in complete silence and just read. I remember going to the library with my mom on Saturdays, and staying the entire day. I looked forward to it each and every week.
Growing up in working class family, my mom worked all the time for the living of a big family with five kids, and my dad was in re-education camp because of his association with U.S. government before 1975. My grandma was my primary guardian. “Go to study, go to read your books, read anything you like to read if you want to have a better life,” my grandma kept bouncing that phrase in my childhood. It becomes the sole rule for me to have better future. I become curious and wonder what the inside of reading and write can make my life difference. In my old days, there was no computer, no laptop, no phone…etc, to play or to spend time with, other than books. I had no other choice than read, and read and tended to dig deep in science books, math books, and chemistry books. I tended to interest in how the problem was solved. I even used my saving money to buy my own math books to read more problems and how to solve the problem. I remembered that I ended up reading the same math book as my seventh grade teacher. She used to throw the challenge questions on every quiz to pick out the brighter student. There was few students know how to solve those challenge questions. I was the one who fortunately nailed it every single time. My passion and my logic for reading and writing came to me through that experience, and also through my grandma and my mom who plant the seed in me, who want their kids to have happy and better life than they were. In my own dictionary, literacy is not just the ability to read and write, it is a strong foundation to build up the knowledge to have better life, to become who I am today.
Three days ago I was working on a lecture dealing with a prominent figure on the French literary scene who happens to be a Sephardic Jew. He pictures the Jew as essentially a wounded man, one racked by his Jewishness. The world for him is a desert, and God is enwrapped in silence. For him the keynote is exile, the stuff of his writing a kind of brave despair. The news of Hays's death broke into my thoughts on this, and it occurred to me that his philosophy of life could be expressed by reversing this writer's terms. The one saw the Jew as a wounded man; the other saw in the Jew, rejoicing in his Jewishness, the acme of spiritual health. The one saw the world as a desert, the other as an orchard. The one saw God as the God of silence, the other saw Him as the God of communication, one with whom you could stay in touch. The keynote of the one was exile; while the other saw in the combination of Judaism and America the best of all possible worlds.
Before I began to read heavier books, and had my old perspectives of books sliced, I was a relatively close minded reader. I rarely connected to books, and thought many books were foolish. I didn’t realize the deeper meaning behind books, and was not very insightful towards them.
Today we celebrate the life of my dear friend, Jerome. Jerome, you were my teacher, my mentor and my dear friend. You provided me your counsel and wisdom. You shared your joyous smile and laugh. You shared your zest for life and the passion for all those things that were important to you.
As a child living in the middle-of-nowhere finding a friend was difficult. Books were a great helper in my life, they sparked my imagination and helped me to become more social. It was because of books that I have some of the best friends in my life. There were kids that lived up the road, but none of them ever stayed long in the neighborhood. Despite that, there were two constants in my life; books and my mom. I often couldn’t find one without discovering the other. Although she would work late trying to support our family, she would still find the willpower to stay up to read a bedtime story with me. She sparked in me a passion for reading, because when I’m reading I’m never alone.
Ever since I was a child, I've never liked reading. Every time I was told to read, I would just sleep or do something else instead. In "A Love Affair with Books" by Bernadete Piassa tells a story about her passion for reading books. Piassa demonstrates how reading books has influenced her life. Reading her story has given me a different perspective on books. It has showed me that not only are they words written on paper, they are also feelings and expressions.
To my family: Husband and kids: You didn’t sign up for this ride and yet you’ve hung on and have always been my biggest support. I love you and thank God every day for gifting me you.
My dear Rick, I want to let you know how very, very much I love and respect you. I know that you know I love you but I wanted to tell you today how very special my life has been having you as my dad. Thank you for taking the challenge when no one else cared. Thank you that you gave me a strong love for family...