The Friday before finals, shortly after 2:00 p.m., on June 1st, I got a long distance call at the Fraternity House. I was there with a group of guys watching TV. Classes were over, we were getting ready for finals and there was not a care in the world.
On the phone was our pastor from New Castle, Delbert Jolley. “Tom, this is Deb Jolley and I have some bad news. Your dad died of a heart attack at his office about an hour ago. A car has been sent to pick you up to come home for the funeral. Can you be ready in about four hours?”
I shook off the shock and went back to the TV room and simply said, “I hope you guys never receive a call like I just got…my dad is dead.”
Well, the mood in the room shifted and a couple of the guys jumped up ready to help with offers to drive me home to call Dr. Pasto and on and on. I realized for the first time what it means to be given support in a personal crisis. Jim Corselius, one of the older guys in my class, made the call to the Dean’s office for an appointment for me in an hour. He had a car and would drive me there to be sure I was back when my ride from New Castle arrived.
Doc Pasto, my former Ag Ec I prof and acting Dean welcomed me with open arms when I arrived at his office. “Tell me what courses you are taking and who your instructors are and we will have your finals deferred until you contact them to take exams,” he said. Bingo, I was free to go home.
Back at the house, the word had spread and one by one the young men with whom I had been so silly and so carefree came to me and expressed their condolences. I was beginning to learn a very valuable life lesson.
John McClure, a friend of Brother Jim’s whom I had known for years and, if I remember correctly, John Caventeur (another of Jim’s friends) arrived at the house to pick me up and we spent the next four hours driving home…back to Luacres. Not a lot was said during the trip. They were trying to be sensitive to my feelings and I was not sure what I was feeling.
The next week was a blurr. When I got home people were gathering around. Jim was home from Slippery Rock, Phyllis, who was living in Utah with her family would be flying in; Dave and his family were on their way from Washington D.C. area, and Shirley and Joe drove in from Gettysburg shortly after I arrived. Shirley and Jim were in tears and were commenting that Mother, who was stoic and seemingly “in charge” must be in a daze and did not know what was happening. Personally, I thought she was doing very well with the whole thing. Someone had to be strong and that was something she did very well. She was well accustomed to being under control.
Dad died in his office. His 1:00 p.m. patient found him lying on the floor of his office. His last patient left the office about 12:30. He had a massive heart attack with no warning signs that the family knew of. He was six days short of his 68th birthday.
There are three memories of that week: (1) the long line of people coming through the visitation; (2) Aleene coming through the line, appearing out of nowhere, with her parents and hugging me; (4) Suzy Winter riding her horse down Valley Road to our house with her baby to pay her respects.
Dad was a fixture in the community. He had been a 32nd degree Mason, he was a past commander of the American Legion, a Boy Scout leader for ten years, and practiced dentistry in New Castle for 44 years. He was more than a member of our church, he had been a leader and he was respected for living his life in an honest and fair manner. I do not remember the numbers, if there even were any, but the funeral director, John Hodge whom I knew from church, said that he had never seen so many people stand in line for so long being openly moved.
Deb Jolley did a good job with the service. After the public viewing, only the family was present for the funeral. The impact of all of this had not sunk in for me and it took a while to do so.
Aleene’s coming to the funeral home should not have been a shock, it is just that I had been meeting people, some of whom I knew and some I did not and all of a sudden, there she was looking up at me with a look of sadness on her face, as I recall. It was as if she did not want to be there, but felt that she should be there and simply reached out to hug me. I do not remember emotions, but there were feelings of surprise, thanks, and relief. If she had not been there, I would have missed her, but not blamed her. Funeral homes are strange places and to superimpose the death of a parent over the elation of finding a new love was hard…for both of us. I was glad she was there. There were neighbors there but no friends of mine…certainly none from Penn State…she was the only one. I was learning a lesson in how to be supportive of a friend who is grieving.
I do not recall the sequence exactly, but I had to go back to State College to take my finals. I remember Dave, Jim and me going to church that Sunday before I left and hearing the words of the Beatitudes being spoken as we went up for communion at the rail: Blessed are they that mourn; they shall be comforted. Deb was so good at saying the right thing at the right time. I shared this experience with his son Bob in 2007 via email when we got word that Deb died…well into his nineties. He had a gift for comforting people from the initial call informing me that Dad had died, through the service and finally at our attendance at church that next Sunday. I learned another lesson.
That afternoon, I was loading Jim’s car to take it back to State College. The sun was warm and I was moving fast when all of a sudden a horse and bareback rider appeared in the yard. She was dressed in shorts and had a small child in front of her. It was my schoolmate and neighbor, Suzy Winter…a single parent mother. I had heard that she got pregnant during her freshman year, but had not seen her since I had been in Chambersburg for the previous two summers. There she was. This is the girl whose bedroom I had been in when I was in sixth grade bringing her home work to her at her dad’s request. I was amazed that Suzy was coming to see me. I had not seen her in three years. I walked over to the horse and she leaned down and hugged me in one motion. I was overcome. She could have stayed away and I would never have thought a thing about it. But she chose to ride a half-mile down the road to express her sympathy. I learned another lesson.
I headed back to take finals with the view to stay in the frat house for a week and do what I had to do. It did not take me a week, but I was alone for all that time when I needed to be talking to someone. I did not realize it at the time, but this was not a good plan.
The big old house that had been teaming with 45 young guys when I left was now empty; everyone was gone. There was little food there and I was not sure how I was going to eat. But I stuck it out. The house was wide open when I got there and I left it wide open when I left. I thought that was fine, at the time, but today it seems strange.
My first mission when I got back on campus was to contact Dr. Pasto and see what I needed to do. He had arranged for me to have as long as it took, but I returned in a week and that was surprising to him. He gave me the phone numbers of my profs and I began calling them. There were four finals and I took only two. Doc Barr told me there was no way he was going to make me take a final. I had an “A” in the course going into the final and that would be fine with him. Yes!
Doc Boyle was nice. He was the insect guy. He wanted me to take the final because I could only help myself. I crammed (using the blue-book file the house had for his course) and struck pay dirt. He gave me the very same final I had been memorizing. Bingo.
The Personal Finance guy was leaving town and simply said that I didn’t need to take it if I would take the grade I was carrying in the class at the time. Good deal, except it was a “C”. Oh well.
The history instructor was also understanding and said that I could take it or not, but that he would only count it if it helped. I took it…I might as well… and ended doing quite well.
I stopped in to see Frank Gullo, Glee Club leader, since he had requested that I come in. There was no final, but he wanted to talk and give his sympathy. To a man, each was great, but of all the people I talked to that week, Dr. Pasto, the Acting Dean was the most helpful. I remembered that for years. Finally, in 2002, when the DTSers met for their annual picnic…this year at Penn State…we were at the Ag Museum and I ran into the curator emeritus, Dr. Jerome K. Pasto. I had a chance to retell my story and thank him for his understanding and support. While he did not remember me or the incident, (and who would after 40 years?) He had to have been well into his 80s, but I got to share my thanks with him.
It took me several days to get this all done, then I headed home through Indiana. I met my new boss. Ward Stover, the County Agricultural Agent, had a room rented for me…I was set to go the next week.
This was going to be a tricky arrangement. Jim was home and going to college, and he had a car, Mom had a car, and I needed a car. She gave up hers for the summer. Some how they worked out the logistics to allow me to make my internship work.
