I was so moved by your portrait of Lynn and your life and love together. My most vivid memories of Lynn are from when we were young, and I can picture her then with a big smile and a twinkle in her eye. I am deeply impressed by how she lived her life, especially at the end. Time in London and Paris is a dream to many but she had the courage to live her dreams.
I"m so glad that you found love again while keeping the memory of her alive in in your life.
Impressive tribute, Steve -- thanks for sharing it. Lynn was, of course, one of the mainstays of the Junior Class production of "Arsenic and Old Lace"; her quiet confidence and equanimity gave our practices and final productions a -- not a gravitas, that would be odd in a farce -- but a calmness and serenity that somehow put the play on a slightly higher plane. She is missed.
Profuse apologies for not getting back to you sooner. I very much appreciate your kind sentiments. I trust that your years with Susan were precious, and losing her at age 45 must have been devastating. The memories live on, though, which is the only immortality that I think there is. Lynn touched a lot of people in very positive ways and lived a full life. As I wrote, that's all that matters in the end.
Steve: I have been ignoring the email notices about the WHHS website until I saw notication of your memorial tribute to Lynn. Reading it was very difficult for me given the ordeal my wife Judy is experiencing as she battles, and I think will overcome, acute myeloid leukemia. But Lynn is part of my earliest childhood memories. Ashley Brown, Richard Cohen, she, and I all went to Bond Hill School together. In fact Richard and I grew up on Oberlin Blvd., the Gehlers' street. As little ones we spent many hours playing in her backyard sandbox, or next door at her neighbors. As we grew older our interests diverged greatly, so I cannot say that I knew Lynn very well during our WHHS years. Neverthelss, your eloquent tribute gives rise to many cherished memories of our being together as little ones and our shared experiences at Bond Hill School. She led a beautiful life, and you have been most gracious in sharing it and your love for her with us. I wish you comfort in her memory.
I'm sorry it has taken me so long to comment on your comments and memories of Lynn. She was indeed a beautiful person in high school and a joy to be co-editor of the front page of the Chatterbox with. I hve a distinct memory of being in homeroom with her and her trying to teach me how to put makeup on. I still use none to very little! I am so glad she was able to follow her dreams and spend time in Paris and London. And even more importantly, to have had such a lasting effect on her students!
Since breast cancer now occurs in one of eight women, I think we have all had the fear of it, the experience of it ourselves, or know someone who has had it. I know Lynn had a terrific partner in you in her struggles with it. I developed a blood disorder, MGUS, which can develop into multiple myeloma. Every six months when I walk into the hematologist's office to learn the results of my most recent blood work, and I see the sign on the building where his office is located, Piper Cancer Center, I feel a twinge of anxiety. During the course of my career, I have worked with many patients with cancer and can only say I recognize the struggle you both experienced.
I am glad for you that you have again found a loving relationship.
Bill: Thanks so much for reaching out. I sincerely hope that all goes well with Judy. Inevitably, one thing or another presents in a way that makes it impossible to forget the finite nature of our journeys. I learned that, In the end, it's the quality of the journey that matters and not the number of miles traveled. May you and Judy continue to share the beauty together as long as you can. I should mention that Lynn recalled you with great fondness more than once.
Lillian: Hang in there, kiddo, and keep up the important work that you're doing. Many, many people, including myself, know how worthy and delightful you are. I may be distant geographically, but I'm only an email (stevenhlevinson@gmail.com) or a phone call ((h) 808-988-7868; (m) 808-780-8845) away. All the best, Steve
Bill, I am so sorry to hear about your wife's illness and all you have been going through in recent months. I wish you and Judy all the best in this important and challenging time and am hoping that she will make a complete recovery. In the meantme, you will both be in my thoughts. Take good care of yourself.
For some reason, I feel the need to pass on that, lately, a line from Earl Grant's wonderful 1958 (I think) hit reverberates in my mind like a perpetual loop; "Our love is a treasure our hearts can always spend, and it has a story without any end." Oh, what I would give to have it all in front of me once again. The fact is that, with death, these stories must have endings. What's left is memory. The overwhelming melancholy is that it's all behind one now and not seemingly stretching infinitely into the future like some yellow brick road.
Stephanie Riger
Steve,
I was so moved by your portrait of Lynn and your life and love together. My most vivid memories of Lynn are from when we were young, and I can picture her then with a big smile and a twinkle in her eye. I am deeply impressed by how she lived her life, especially at the end. Time in London and Paris is a dream to many but she had the courage to live her dreams.
I"m so glad that you found love again while keeping the memory of her alive in in your life.
Stephanie
Philip Spiess
Impressive tribute, Steve -- thanks for sharing it. Lynn was, of course, one of the mainstays of the Junior Class production of "Arsenic and Old Lace"; her quiet confidence and equanimity gave our practices and final productions a -- not a gravitas, that would be odd in a farce -- but a calmness and serenity that somehow put the play on a slightly higher plane. She is missed.
Steven Levinson
Thanks, Phil. It's wonderful to have your "voice" back!
Steven Levinson
Ashley,
Profuse apologies for not getting back to you sooner. I very much appreciate your kind sentiments. I trust that your years with Susan were precious, and losing her at age 45 must have been devastating. The memories live on, though, which is the only immortality that I think there is. Lynn touched a lot of people in very positive ways and lived a full life. As I wrote, that's all that matters in the end.
William (Bill) Waxman
Steve: I have been ignoring the email notices about the WHHS website until I saw notication of your memorial tribute to Lynn. Reading it was very difficult for me given the ordeal my wife Judy is experiencing as she battles, and I think will overcome, acute myeloid leukemia. But Lynn is part of my earliest childhood memories. Ashley Brown, Richard Cohen, she, and I all went to Bond Hill School together. In fact Richard and I grew up on Oberlin Blvd., the Gehlers' street. As little ones we spent many hours playing in her backyard sandbox, or next door at her neighbors. As we grew older our interests diverged greatly, so I cannot say that I knew Lynn very well during our WHHS years. Neverthelss, your eloquent tribute gives rise to many cherished memories of our being together as little ones and our shared experiences at Bond Hill School. She led a beautiful life, and you have been most gracious in sharing it and your love for her with us. I wish you comfort in her memory.
Lillian Vendig (Bandyk)
Steve,
I'm sorry it has taken me so long to comment on your comments and memories of Lynn. She was indeed a beautiful person in high school and a joy to be co-editor of the front page of the Chatterbox with. I hve a distinct memory of being in homeroom with her and her trying to teach me how to put makeup on. I still use none to very little! I am so glad she was able to follow her dreams and spend time in Paris and London. And even more importantly, to have had such a lasting effect on her students!
Since breast cancer now occurs in one of eight women, I think we have all had the fear of it, the experience of it ourselves, or know someone who has had it. I know Lynn had a terrific partner in you in her struggles with it. I developed a blood disorder, MGUS, which can develop into multiple myeloma. Every six months when I walk into the hematologist's office to learn the results of my most recent blood work, and I see the sign on the building where his office is located, Piper Cancer Center, I feel a twinge of anxiety. During the course of my career, I have worked with many patients with cancer and can only say I recognize the struggle you both experienced.
I am glad for you that you have again found a loving relationship.
Best wishes, Lillian
Steven Levinson
Bill: Thanks so much for reaching out. I sincerely hope that all goes well with Judy. Inevitably, one thing or another presents in a way that makes it impossible to forget the finite nature of our journeys. I learned that, In the end, it's the quality of the journey that matters and not the number of miles traveled. May you and Judy continue to share the beauty together as long as you can. I should mention that Lynn recalled you with great fondness more than once.
Steven Levinson
Lillian: Hang in there, kiddo, and keep up the important work that you're doing. Many, many people, including myself, know how worthy and delightful you are. I may be distant geographically, but I'm only an email (stevenhlevinson@gmail.com) or a phone call ((h) 808-988-7868; (m) 808-780-8845) away. All the best, Steve
Mary Benjamin
Bill, I am so sorry to hear about your wife's illness and all you have been going through in recent months. I wish you and Judy all the best in this important and challenging time and am hoping that she will make a complete recovery. In the meantme, you will both be in my thoughts. Take good care of yourself.
Steven Levinson
For some reason, I feel the need to pass on that, lately, a line from Earl Grant's wonderful 1958 (I think) hit reverberates in my mind like a perpetual loop; "Our love is a treasure our hearts can always spend, and it has a story without any end." Oh, what I would give to have it all in front of me once again. The fact is that, with death, these stories must have endings. What's left is memory. The overwhelming melancholy is that it's all behind one now and not seemingly stretching infinitely into the future like some yellow brick road.