(Ted A making a toast at Al's 90th)
I am very fortunate to have been Al’s grandson, and I am grateful for his life and friendship.
From my earliest memories to my last moments with Al, he was always encouraging me to grow as a human being, to take on new challenges and to contribute the happiness and welfare of others. Lots of people give such encouragement, but few live up to the same ideals with their own actions. To the very end Al sought to grow, becoming gentler and more affectionate; to take on new challenges, penning his autobiography; and to help others, through sound advice and often generous financial support.
As strong a presence as Al was in my life, it took me a while to develop a mature appreciation of his individual qualities. Throughout my childhood and adolescence I didn’t really know Al independent of my grandmother, Roie. To me he was part of a greater entity that I knew simply as “Roie and Al.” It wouldn’t be until after her death that I began to know Al more fully.
Knowing Al as I do now, I can see experiences from my childhood that gave me my first glimpses of Al’s world and complex personality. For instance, one of my favorite places to play was Al’s library. It was a special place in the house, and playing there depended on his mood. If I had permission to play there on my many stays at the house, I would go to the library and take down huge books to spread out on the floor and read. I loved his military atlases and paintings of historic battles or events. Roie and I would also look through Al’s collection of albums and put on different operas or big band music for me to listen to while I spent hours on the floor flipping through the pages of the books. I can vividly recall the sound of the music, the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the room and the smell of the wood paneling and bookshelves. The smell of the library was completely distinct from the rest of the house, which was full of bright rooms permeated with Roie’s fragrance. When Al would come home Roie would hustle me out of the room so he could get ready for guests to come over for a game of bridge. Sometimes the game would just be ending the next morning when I got up. All the late night activity just made me more curious about Al.
If most of my interaction as a child was with Roie, there were several occasions that Al sought me out by himself to encourage me to begin taking on responsibilities. When I was about six, shortly after my parents separated, I had a day off from school because of a typical New England wintry mix of snow, sleet and then rain. There were about six inches of snow before the temperature warmed enough for change the precipitation to sleet and rain. That afternoon Al drove up to visit us and came in with a gift for me: a snow shovel. He said I should try to help out my mother by shoveling the driveway. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help, because the mess on the ground was heavy and thick, too much for a six year old. But the impression it left on me was distinct and helped me begin to understand who he was, separate and apart from Roie.
When Roie died suddenly in 1989, my interaction with Al became more frequent. Shortly after her death, I stayed with Al at 482 Washington Rd. while my father and step-mother took a short trip to the Caribbean. Every night we stayed up late talking about Roie and how much we were going to miss her. It was the first time Al had shared stories of his life with Roie with me, stories he would elaborate on further over the years. Although some of it was uncomfortable to hear, it helped me understand the complexities of a man I had known all my life, but didn’t fully understand.
Over the next few years, Al gave me a lot of advice and encouragement as I tried to find my way in life. Sometimes he did it with positive support and other times he did it by calling me out on my flaws (which are many!). He was good at recognizing a problem and calling it what it was. He never beat around the bush about his opinions, and they were usually spot on.
When my first effort at college ended badly, he told me do find something I liked doing and he would help me pursue it. Knowing that I was interested in cooking, he introduced me to his friend Mo Gabe, the Chancellor at Johnson & Wales, and helped me enroll there. He also set aside some money for me for my future. Later he had some harsh words for me when I lost interest at Johnson & Wales and I used the money he had set aside for me to buy a ticket to Australia. I remember the long conversation we had at his house on North Lake Drive when I told him what I had done (I think my Dad drove me over there, saying I owed Al an explanation). Al told me I was lost and swore that he would never give me money again in his life. I walked out of there with my tail between my legs thinking I had damaged my relationship with him beyond repair. But whether he forgot what he had said or just forgave me, in the end that pledge is the only one I can think of that he never followed through on.
I like to think that Al was pleased to see what I did when I began traveling. Somehow, it got me interested in the world around me, I became excited about learning new languages, and began challenging myself to reach for bigger and better things. We corresponded throughout my travels (and I kept every one of his letters) and he seemed as excited as I was with all my new experiences. When I returned to the US nearly five years later, I worked in Boston and took classes at Harvard Extension School as I prepared to apply to Brown University. When I was accepted and I returned to Providence to live on the same street where he had owned a building years before, Al and I sat down again, this time for a more positive conversation. He told me that while he didn’t approve of my quitting on school and taking the money to get started in my travels, he was proud of the things I had done during those years and happy that I had finally found a direction. Later he would tell me, only partly in jest, “It was the best money you ever spent that wasn’t your own!”
During the last ten years, Al and I grew closer. We shared a love for baseball and our weekly phone calls always involved some mention of the Indians and the Red Sox. We talked about my work, job opportunity, love interests, and life in Washington DC—which invariably led us to the subject of politics. It was fascinating to me to watch the transformation of Al from life-long Republican to a harsh critic of George Bush. In that political evolution, Al continued to show that he practiced what he preached, growing as a person even as he neared the end of his life.
When I visited Al in Florida last December, he told me he thought the next year would be his last. I’m not sure I believed him because he still seemed so strong to me. We swam together in his pool a couple of times and he seemed vigorous, swimming laps and maintaining a conversation with me at the same time. He retold stories of his life with Roie, lectured me about the virtues of a balanced budget, and went on about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He seemed like he would keep on going forever, learning and growing as a person and always remaining true to his principles: fiscal responsibility, peace and leaving things better than you found them.
I think it is entirely appropriate that Al preferred for me and my sisters to call him by his first name. He was as much a friend as a grandfather. I will miss my friend greatly.
- Ted
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