Sunday, January 20, 2008

Eulogy for my Brother


William Alan Stewart

July 26, 1950—December 15, 2007

[Photo: Bill (left)and I in Newport Beach 2003

We come here today to say goodbye to William Alan Stewart—my big brother Bill.

Our heart goes out in this time of sadness to those closest to Bill. Beginning, of course, with his loving wife Lisa. Lisa helped Bill through his terrible illness that ultimately claimed his life. They had only been together a matter of months when Bill’s health crisis surfaced. In such a circumstance, someone else might have simply said “good luck” and moved on. They could be forgiven for doing so. But that’s not Lisa. Instead of abandoning him, she married him and was with him until the very end. You are a remarkable women, LISA, and I know Bill loved you very much…And of course Lisa’s parents: Linda and Richard Dawson—two truly wonderful, loving people who treated Bill like he was a member of their family. They are people I personally will never forget for their kindness and their warmth.

Lisa and her parents know and loved Bill during what turned out to be the final chapter of a life that was far too short. There were, of course other chapters in Bill’s life. Chapters filled with rich memories and many loving people. We grieve today with Bill’s two adult children, Karie and Timothy. Bill loved you both very, very much. I know you are heartbroken by your father’s death but I also know your dad will live on in both your hearts for all of your years. I know you will always honor his memory.

Bill was also married for 30 years to Linda, Karie and Tim’s mom. I realize that these are very sad circumstances, Linda, but it comforts me to see you today...and I know you are greatly saddened by Bill’s passing. You played such an enormously important role in Bill life…and you shared so many of his most precious memories. You and he may have ultimately grown apart but I know that you and he grew up together and became adults together.

And, as you can well imagine, Bill’s death has hit my family very hard. My big sister Joanne and my younger sister Annie, you were both an enormous source of strength for Bill in his most difficult days. Joanne, Anne and I were so impressed by his courage and his strength sas he battled his illness. And I want to say Joanne you give as strength and Anne you are the glue that holds us together. Those are two qualities we need now more than ever.

But Joanne knew him longer than either of us. So better then any of us here she recalls Bill as a youngster—loveable playful and maybe a bit shy. Although they were very close they were different: She liked the Beatles…He liked Joni Mitchell….She read Rolling Stone…He read Emily Dickenson…She dressed like a hippie and he dressed…like he was told to by the brothers in his high school. In high school he seldom got in trouble and let’s just say she made up for it.

Joanne, you shared some memories of Bill with me the other day and it brought me great comfort. But there is something I have to quibble with slightly. You recalled how when you were kids you two would go to Coney Island and YOU—and you alone-- would go on the parachute ride. This was an enormous metal structure that towered high above the beach—you could see it for miles. They’d hoist you up and drop you…and a parachute would (hopeful) open. Joanne, said she would go on but Billy was too—and I’m quoting now “chicken” to go on. Now, I want you to know when you told me that story I didn’t say anything out loud. But to myself I said “Is she out of her mind? Why would she go on such a dangerous ride. Does she realize that closed that ride years ago?” My point is this, Bill was a big influence on me which helps explain why I was the only 10-year old you should recite Simon and Garfunkle lyrics


But, Joanne and Anne, I know it is so difficult to say goodbye to our big brother Bill, but I know he loved you both very much. As I most certainly do too.

Our Dad, Alfred, could not make the trip from Florida. He is battling his own health problems. But he is also stricken with grief. I spoke to him the day Bill passed. He said “Tell them My heart is there with you” when you remember Bill. Then I asked what he would like me to say about his son, Bill. I asked what where his fondest memories. My dad’s grief seemed to ease momentarily and he simply said “What a good kid. What a good kid. He was so happy. So full of life. He loved his puppets and we’d watch Kukla, Fran and Ollie together. Just a good kid.”

My dad, is now retired, but he was a self employed appliance mechanic you left school in the 9th grade to support his family. He wanted a better life for his children so he stressed education. He was very proud that Bill was the first of our family to graduate college. Bill received a Bachelor’s Degree in English from Hunter College in New York City. When Bill graduated my dad was beaming. He said he would attend the ceremony only on one condition: When Bill received his diploma my Dad said he wanted to stand up and in his best Italian accent shout “THAT’S A-MY BOY” We’re not Italian but my dad just thought it sounded better with an Italian accent. The point of course is he was very proud of his son.

I personally own enormous debt to Bill. Bill was nine years older that me. So he was old enough to be a role model but still young enough to remind me that life should be fun and adventurous. Bill took me on many adventures. Following his lead I joined the Boy Scouts and learned about hiking, camping and conservation. It changed my life and installed in me values that will stay with me forever. Bill was the assistant scout master of Troop 457 and he told me I could not go camping until I learned the 12 Boy Scout laws. He said I was to memorize them and be able to recite them as easily as if I was saying my name. I was only 10 and I thought it unreasonable that a little kid should have to remember all of that. I told him I just forget them the day after I memorize them but I would do it if it meant I could go camping. Here I am nearly 40 years later and this is the only part I don’t need my noted for. What Bill taught me was this:

A Scout is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obediane, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean & Reverent.

I know some of those are still more objectives than laws for me, but they are the values that helped shape Bill


Sharing our tiny little bedroom in Brooklyn I’d watch from the top bunk while Bill pounded away at his typewriter well into the night. I knew I wanted to go to college and I knew I want to be a writer because that what my big brother did. I wanted to be like him. My heart broken into a million pieces when I heard he passed away but I know I am a better man for having had Bill Stewart as my big brother.

So We come here today searching for comfort from each other. We look for meaning and try to understand why a good man has left us so soon. We embrace each other and try and be strong. While I was searching for meaning…for some way to make sense of this…For something to say to all you good people who have come here morn my brother Bill’s passing and celebrate his life, my sister Anne offered me a simple suggestion….and it touched me deeply. Anne said: When you deliver Bill’s eulogy, ask them on our brother’s behalf to react to his passing the way Bill confronted his illness. The way he lived his life up until the end: Then she said two words: “Brave Dignity”

“Brave Dignity” is most certainly what Bill demonstrated right up until the end. And I ask you to reflect on those qualities today and maybe all of us together can gain the strength we need to find meaning in this tragedy.

Those of us who knew him, knew Bill to be a light-hearted, gentle soul. He was a man with a quick wit and an easy smile. There was a carefree quality to Bill. There was not a mean or spiteful bone in his body. Sometimes, he wasn’t as serious as others around might have wanted him to be. But that’s the Bill we knew and that’s the Bill we loved.

But in February something terrible happened. Bill found out he was seriously ill. There was persistent pain and discomfort. But Bill would not allow himself to be discouraged. Others going through what he was going through, could be forgiven if they felt bitterness or despair. But not Bill. There was no hint of self pity. No sense of anger. Bill didn’t feel sorry for himself. And he certainly didn’t give up. Bill refused to surrender to the sickness that invaded his body. He fought back with courage and nobility. Through it all he demonstrated those two words by sister suggested. Two words that sum up the character this man demonstrated in his final months and days. SO when you think of Bill Stewart please think of the kind-hearted, big lug who made us laugh and enjoyed life but also I think it also fitting that you recall to words that describe Bill. “Brave Dignity.”

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

My First Entry. (please be gentle)



Hi my name is Al.
That's me in the middle in a photo taken in at a flooring factory in Hangzhou, China on Oct. 31, 2007. I am the editor of a trade magazine and I was visiting the birthplace of Chinese food, touring the factories and taking the pulse of the burgeoning hardwood flooring biz.
This is my first entry in my new blog. I was compelled to begin this after sending the following email to a small group of friends. A few told me it didn't suck and that my writing skills were sufficient to merit a blog. I realize that's like saying my breathing skills are sufficient to merit life on earth but as they say in China, a journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step (and boarding pass.) Here then is the email:
Now I'm a veteran of China! Just back from a week Hangzhou (my 2nd trip now). A huge city of 12 million people I had never heard of. An unbelievable experience. I spent two days touring factories and I actually had two free days to bum around the city by myself It was bizarre.
RANDOM OBSERVATIONS: Many of those I encountered had never seen (A) an America and (B) A man with a bread (and very few men my size.) I was either getting VIP treatment by my hosts or being gawked at by everyone else...Everybody rides a bike and everybody seems pissed off and in a hurry. (Not unlike a certain city I was born in)...I watched game 4 of the World Series (live) beginning at 7 am. (The result made me very sad--but I never thought I'd see it in Commietown)... A cop yelled at a women because she didn't want me to take her picture (with the Olympics coming there's this big push to nice to foreigners... or else)...Four of us had a two-hour feast that came to $68 (US). (And that was with beer)...I got lost and found that cabs didn't want to go to my hotel out of fear of the police there for the conference I was covering...At a crowded KFC the manager came out from begin the counter and brought me to the front of the line (literally) pushing aside people who had been waiting there well before me (they didn't seem happy about it). I found out that "Pepsi" refers to any type of soft drink and "Coke" means "Pepsi."
I was told "It is considered extremely rude to ask someone not to smoke." (This during a meal when people were still eating.) They apparently don't yet have the recipe for ice. The cops don't give tickets to the locals. Instead, they pull them aside and yell at the in public for a few minutes to humiliate them (I'll take that over the LAPD which does both.) If I went into a store and didn't buy something the merchant's smile quickly turned to annoyance even shouting. "Buxom Chinese woman" is an oxymoron. If you like bike riding and cigarette smoking this the place for you. (Both were ubiquitous) They don't call it "Chinese food." They just call it "food."
The factories are like concentration camps. It's 12 hours a day, six days a week. Squalid living quarters with little or no indoor plumbing but a state issued satellite TV to assure China's version of Fox News gets through. While touring one of these dungeons, just for the hell of it, I dropped a Chinese 50 RMB (about $8 US) at one women's work station, When I got near the exit I watched her face beam like a kid on Christmas as she discreetly picked it up and stashed it in her smock. I latter learned that is what she makes in a day. I feel good about that! Best $8 bucks I ever spent--and I put it on my T&E (Maybe she ordered take out American food for dinner?) A women a few blocks from my hotel approached me and asked "You want to do suckie? 10 bucks?" (About $1.60 US) I said, out loud "You'd have to pay me a lot more than that!." She didn't understand, but I thought it was a funny thing to say. (Also, it turns out "10 bucks" was only her opening bid.--Just kidding)
Travel tip: When returning home after an 18 hour flight and a week in a drab, depressing Police state and you're going through US Customs, look the Customs dude right in the eye, smile and say "It is so freakin good to be home, my friend." If you mean it, and I did, you'll sail right through.

Hello World

Hello World. Welcome to Alpha Dogs in Heat.