John and Nancy Root

 

 

Married 66 years

Died within 13 days of each other

each peacefully in their sleep

at home.

 

Eulogies, and reminiscences from family and friends to honor Johnny and Nancy and their life dedicated to Anthroposophia, especially Education, Eurythmy, and  the renewal and enlivening of social life.

John G Root

April  20, 1925  --  June 29, 2014

 

NANCY M ROOT

September 25, 1924  -  July 12, 2014

 

 

 

Table of Contents

 

Eulogy for John by Liza Joy Marcato

 

Eulogy for Nancy by Liza Joy Marcato

 

Reminiscence by Chissy Jamison Root

 

Reminiscence by Ann-Elizabeth Barnes

 

Reminiscence by John Jr

 

Former Students Memories

 

Colleagues Comments

 

Jonathan Barnes: 60th Wedding Anniversary talk

 

 

Eulogy for John Gower Root, Sr.

April 20, 1925  — June 29, 2014

Funeral on July 2, 2014 at

The Christian Community in Hillsdale, NY

By Rev. Liza Joy Marcato

Today we gather together to accompany our dear John Gower Root, Sr. on his further way into the heights and widths of Spirit towards which he turned his attention and his love his whole life long and to celebrate this life together in all its richness. He was Johnny to just about everyone, Fa to his dear children and grandchildren.

Johnny Root was born April 20, 1925 at the American Hospital in Paris, France. When he returned home at 3 months old with his family, he was driven to Maine in the sidecar of a motorcycle, which became a lifelong passion: motorcycles and cars and interesting vehicles of all kinds.

His mother Jeanne Gwendolyn Gower was a gifted soprano but due to a fire in childhood which resulted in facial scarring, she never went professional with her singing. She was deeply committed to Anthroposophy and The Christian Community.

On his mother’s side, came an inheritance of language, as they were descendants of the poet John Gower, a contemporary of Chaucer; and on his father Waldo’s side, a real new American stream with descendants arriving in the new land already in 1632. The Roots a hundred years later helped settle nearby Sheffield.

As a four year old visiting his family’s house on Bailey Island in Maine, with his insuppressible curiosity to understand how things work, he stuck his finger in a windmill apparatus, and cut off part of it. When he got stitched up, they wanted to give him an ice cream for being such a good boy, but Johnny wouldn’t have it—he was afraid the ice cream would come out his finger!

At the age of 6 or 7 years old, during the Depression years, someone stole little Johnny’s bicycle. It bothered him deeply, but he thought it through and decided that the person who took it must have needed it more than he did. The experiences during those years left a strong impression on him which he carried through his life—one of both immeasurable generosity, amazement at abundance and creativity in making do. Even much later in good times, when his wife and children would come home from shopping, he would remark “Well, I guess the Depression’s just about over!”

Johnny’s mother was older than his father, and she felt he should have a younger wife. But Waldo had also promised her that he would become an Anthroposophist—which never came to fruition. They divorced. Waldo remarried and brothers David and Johnny were joined by two half-brothers Tommy and Dougie. The big age differences made it difficult to get particularly close but Johnny had a cordial relationship with everyone. His parents even maintained a friendship over the years.

Until 1936, the family lived in NYC. Johnny attended the Rudolf Steiner School—but not for long. He was a bit of a hellion back then, as his schoolmate called him: “a naughty boy.” He was kicked out of the Steiner School, and at 11 years old, he moved with his mother to Jug End Road, where his grandmother “Glam” lived. Soon he attended the Lenox School for Boys, and boarded there. There he learned the Bible in and out, and thrived in his studies. When he was 16 years old, he wanted to get home, but was having a hard time arranging it with the train—so he found the old school station wagon in the garage, and availed himself of it. Of course, the school called the police, and soon, Johnny found himself in a high speed chase with the local police, 90 MPH through the country roads… when they finally caught up with him, the police officer who stopped him first said to him “Man, you’re a helluva driver!”

While this story is characteristic of Johnny and his love of cars—it is also characteristic to note that he never really let go of it, muttering in his later years in self dissatisfaction about how he should not have done it.

During the summers and also after high school, Johnny worked on the farm. While haying and raking behind a horse one day, the horse bolted, and dragged Johnny, stuck in the rake, all the way across the field and down to Blue Rider stables, breaking his leg. That rake is still at the bottom of the drive.

He met his best friend Walter Leicht on the farm. Walter was a refugee from Nazi Germany, who now had to go to war as a US soldier. When Pearl Harbor happened, Johnny wanted to join up, even though he was too young. At 17, he joined the army, and went off to Boot camp. Pneumonia and a cyst at the base of his spine kept him from going abroad, but the experience in the army left a strong impression on him. Johnny was always such a moral and fastidious young man—and the crassness of the other soldiers, especially in regard to the opposite sex shocked and upset him.

Another friend of his from the Lenox School was killed (Jimmy Williams) in battle, and Johnny visited his parents every year thereafter. His children remember going with him. For years, he sent money to his old babysitter, whose son was also killed in the war.

His mother was incredibly selfless, and was probably one of his greatest influences. Even after the divorce, when his mother could have asked her ex-husband’s family for money for support, she instead chose to line her coat with newspapers for warmth. She had grown up with Anthroposophy and The Christian Community, and it was natural for Johnny to find his own path here as well.

Along with Walter Leicht, Johnny learned the art of draftsmanship. On the GI Bill, he also went to Bowdoin College at someone’s suggestion to “go be one of Fritz’s boys!” Fritz Koelln was a professor from Germany teaching at Bowdoin, who was also an Anthroposophist and led many young men to Spiritual Science. But he would do so by responding to their questions which arose in class, saying “Just remember, you asked me!” Johnny majored in German at Bowdoin. During this time, he drove down in his 1926 Studebaker to the NYC “Headquarters” at 211 Madison Ave, where he met Nancy, who had just graduated from Bryn Mawr.

Sitting in the audience seeing her perform Eurythmy on the stage, he turned to the woman next to him and said, “That’s the girl I’m gonna marry.” The woman looked at him—he looked no older than thirteen years old—she thought him a “whippersnapper”—that was Nancy’s mother, Mary, or as the family called her: Gammer.

The two had their first date on January 12, 1947 and fell in love. When Johnny told Fritz Koelln about Nancy, and asked him “Fritz, will you marry me?” Fritz answered “I can’t, I’m already married.”

The two were indeed married by Fritz on March 21, 1948 at the Steiner School in New York. They went to Europe for Johnny’s junior year abroad, where he studied with Ernst Lehrs and others. Johnny got a motorcycle—a 1300cc Indian—a great bike they used to make in Springfield MA—and they took many trips over the Alps in their black leather outfits. Nancy studied Eurythmy in Dornach on the weekends.

John Jr. was born in Portland, Maine when they returned home. Ann Elizabeth followed three years later and Christina three years after.

Johnny got his Masters at the University of Maryland and started a PhD at Columbia University, but the academic life was wearing on him, and when he was offered a teaching position at the Steiner School in New York, he took it. He later regretted not getting his PhD, which he felt kept him from becoming a professor at the Anthroposophical University he hoped to start with other Anthroposophists. (what later became Sunbridge College)

But as it is with these important twists in our destiny, his holding back one possibility opened up a very important door. He became a much loved high school teacher at the Steiner School, who for the next 26 years inspired and touched the lives of many, many young people. Nancy taught Eurythmy. Even his own children did not mind and even enjoyed being “fac brats” and students in his classes because of his jolly, fun, articulate and passionate style of teaching. He was the cool teacher who had a naughty past but now led by the example of his incredible uprightness and joyful engagement with the world. He loved his subjects and this love was infectious. He taught just about everything under the auspices of History and Literature, but his best loved courses were Parsival, Ancient Philosophy, and Mechanical Drawing with Perspective. 

It was the late 60s, and the spirit of revolution and renewal was in the air. The story of Parsival as he brought it to these young idealistic minds transformed their lives, giving them the feeling they were part of something much, much bigger and that they all had a role to play in world evolution.

He was a patient teacher, and an incredibly upbeat colleague. He was full of humor and good will, gentle, and a master of playfulness. He knew how to recognize and encourage you—but also give you the kick in the pants you needed. He was incredibly insightful.

During his years in New York City, he and Nancy were very involved in the branch work of the Anthroposophical Society, filled with love for Anthroposophy, and a great sense of duty. Johnny was particularly gifted at sorting through the messes that arose between people. He was often down at Headquarters, as was Nancy. He also traveled to Europe to help sort conflicts in the larger Anthroposophical Society. They were also faithful members of George and Gisela O’Neil’s study group on the Evolution of Consciousness with the Kress’ and Pusch’s. Anthroposophy was part and parcel of everything they did, and shorthand at home was commonplace—speaking of KHW, which means nothing in most households, but the Root children knew from an early age about Knowledge of Higher Worlds and its Attainment, one of Rudolf Steiner’s basic books on the spiritual path, and about the Cosmic Bathtub, the picture of the  journey of the human spirit through its incarnation on earth.

During summers the family visited Fetzers Farm in Pennsylvania with the Livingstons and Nordoffs, other families from various Steiner Schools. Over the years, the Root household was open to many, always taking in stray folks, and giving them a home.

Johnny’s love of practical things and automobiles led to the transformation of a chassis into the Goetheanumobile, as people called it, which the family used for cross country treks over the years. He also converted a city bus into a motor home in which he took his students on trips all over.

 

One of the impulses of Anthroposophy that moved Johnny deeply was the impulse for a threefolding of society. The threefold social organism involves clarifying the economic, rights and free cultural spheres that human culture may thrive and develop, and the ideals of brotherhood, equality and freedom can truly be put into practice. Johnny longed to make the Waldorf school more accessible and looked into ways to make it more an expression of threefold ideals—looking into ways to serve the underprivileged population, but he found little or no support for these ideas at the school. When Nancy made it clear that she didn’t want to die in Jackson Heights (in Queens,where they lived), Johnny took it as an impetus to start a new chapter.

Leaving High School teaching behind, the family moved to Jug End Road and the Berkshires where his ancestors had long ago settled. This began a time of starting projects. With Owen DeRis and Bob Swan, he set up a land trust, which the family is still part of to this day. Johnny wanted to live off the grid, self-sustaining, in an Anthroposophical community. With a bumper crop of apples and the help of John Jr, the first Community Supported Agriculture farm began on Jug End Road. Berkshire Village came into being. Johnny and John also started a Recycling Business that ran from 95 to 2001…. And while there were many successes along the way, there was something in Johnny’s impulses that never really could be realized the way he hoped. Money was lost, disappointments flourished.

While he was masterful in his teaching capacity and as a mentor for others, as a social entrepreneur, he remained something of an apprentice. He was wildly interested in the  practical, loving the material and mechanical world—but his practicality was very CREATIVE, and was not always practical to others! About his childhood accident from sticking his finger in the windmill and getting it cut off: he said “It did not deter me from my fascination with the mechanical.” He could build all sorts of contraptions—but they were always somewhat unique. He was in a sense, too far ahead of his time, even himself in a certain sense. He was not one for the nitty gritty. Even in the Anthroposophical Society, it was Henry Barnes who was gifted in the administrative side, not Johnny. Johnny’s strength lay in his incredible ability to clean up messes and smooth things out between people. He was a great executive director, but never a general secretary, which did cause him some pain.

But many people were guided to their own paths by this ever playful, boyish spiritual leader. He was a leader because of his faithfulness to the spiritual path, his utter devotion to practice and learning and his great concern for the development of others. Out to dinner at a restaurant with others he had a lecture by Rudolf Steiner on his lap, which he was either reading or translating. His leadership in the School for Spiritual Science was important for many, and his free renderings of the texts were deeply appreciated. He was instrumental in the founding of the branch, the Chanticleer newsletter, the Teacher Training at Antioch, and very active in the deliberate mentoring of others—including his two sons-in-law and numerous Waldorf teachers. He taught out in California at Highland Hall and widened the circle of those he touched.

He loved music, and his perfect pitch and beautiful tenor voice have been cherished by all. He brought down the house on more than one occasion—singing in the Steiner School chorus and shows, and the Berkshire Choral festival. When he could not remember his lines in a Gilbert and Sullivan musical at the Steiner School, he improvised rhymed lines. Even up till the last, he sang along when someone visited him and played guitar for him.

In 1979, he was diagnosed with late onset diabetes, which Nancy helped him manage through his food intake. No more sugary sweets made things challenging, life lost some of its sweetness—but the family got creative and learned to sweeten things in healthy ways for Fa.

His dexterity and playfulness in language is imprinted in all those he knew—from the endless stream of nicknames like Snipe, Snips, Whips, Snippity Snoop—to his taking to heart Rudolf Steiner’s advice on changing one’s handwriting to develop strength in one’s life forces—to witty answers, as when his daughter called late at night and said “Hi Fa, I hope I didn’t wake you.” “No,” he said, “I had to get up to answer the phone anyway.”

His life was one of a dance between adventure and devotional practice to the inner life. He built a home for his family and for his work in this dance. He could be asked about any happening in great world evolution and tell you in which Epoch it would occur or did occur.

In his last years, his grip on the practical reality of earthly life slipped further as dementia set in. But many recount that they could still have incredible spiritual conversations with him if you were willing to wade through a bit with him. All the ideas and spiritual work he did in devotion to Anthroposophy and the Christian path combined with his incredible love of drawing of architecture and temples—we can perhaps imagine him now entering that world of light he worked to understand and teach here on earth with an amazing wonder and joy and readiness to work hard building that new city of humanity the New Jerusalem.

 His long and loving relationship with Nancy—66 years this past March—will continue to buoy him and guide him as he reunites with loved ones over there—perhaps now teaching them of all he learned in life—and he will now work to stay connected with all those still on earth who he loves and has mentored through the decades. He will continue to mentor if we but ask him.

His question to the grandchildren was often: Have you been good? And to many: Are you serving the cosmos?

We can end with a quote by his beloved teacher Rudolf Steiner that Johnny lived with and made his own translation of:

From the first sentence of The Michael Mystery (Leading Anthroposophical Thoughts)

The age of Michael has dawned. Hearts begin to have thoughts. Inspiration can no longer flow from mere mystical darkness but from clear soul brightness—thought  informed and thought sustained. To understand this is to take Michael to heart. Today thoughts that strive to grasp the spirit must spring from hearts that beat for Michael, the fiery thought-prince of the Universe.

Rudolf Steiner  (Retranslated by Johnny Root) 

 

 

 

 

Eulogy for Nancy Mitchell Root

 Sept 25, 1924  —  July 12, 2014

Funeral on July 15, 2014 at

The Christian Community in Hillsdale, NY

By Rev. Liza Joy Marcato

 

Just 13 days ago, our dear Nancy Root sat in the front row here at her beloved husband Johnny’s funeral—and true to her word, the two have, within a relatively short span, crossed the threshold together. We gather today now to celebrate Nancy’s life and accompany her crossing now into the world of the Spirit.

Nancy’s family, like her future husband’s, were also descendants of some of the first Europeans to set sail for the new world, arriving in 1639, and soon thereafter providing Harvard with its fourth president. In the 1800s the family set out as pioneers for Indiana in a Conestoga wagon. Nancy’s grandfather later started the Indianapolis News. Her mother made the move back east when she went to Bryn Mawr College, along with her sisters. Nancy was born to Mary and Harold Mitchell, and an older sister Evelyn, on September 25, 1924 in Fall River, Massachusetts. When Nancy was born, the family moved on, traveling for her father’s work in public health, finally landing in Jackson Heights, in Queens.

Nancy’s family was close-knit, warm and loving. She also had extended family in upstate New York who she loved to visit, and a beloved nurse Isabel, who later would nurse Johnny’s grandmother. Nancy’s was actually an incredibly happy childhood. Her father, “Mitch” became the Public Health Commissioner of New York, and worked to provide school lunches and immunizations for all children. When Nancy’s mother “Gammer” was visiting cousins the Macbeths, where one of the sisters had died in childbirth, she found a book by Rudolf Steiner on understanding death. Anthroposophy became Nancy’s mother’s passion, though her father found it completely uninteresting.

When Nancy was 11 years old, in 1936, Gammer wanted to take the girls to Europe—so she could see the Goetheanum, the world center for Anthroposophy, and the girls could each pick a country to visit! The girls did not want to visit Germany because that of that horrible man in power, but they ended up there as well for a time. They set off on the Queen Mary for an adventure that would leave a deep impression on Nancy and influence her own life in many ways. It was on this trip that Nancy saw Eurythmy for the first time, forming a seed that would later blossom.

Back in Jackson Heights, she attended the Garden Country Day School, a very supportive and stimulating educational environment for Nancy. She also met her lifelong friend Philly Lou  there. From there she went on to Bryn Mawr as her mother had. It was wartime, most men were off at war, and the all-women’s college provided Nancy with some of the best years of her life. She drank in the experiences, studying philosophy with Paul Weiss, who called Bryn Mawr "the self-chosen destination of the most intellectual, intelligent, determined, and well-prepared young women in America." That was Nancy! She had a very philosophical, analytical mind, but she also worked hard to make her thoughts experiential. She was also an avid reader of literature, especially the classics.

She made the most of college, and after graduation, went with her closest friends to Guatemala where they shared some great adventures, like tasting whiskey for the first time. Nancy called it firewater, and she was sure the locals were leading them through a ritual and giving them the ritual drink, until she realized it was the whiskey her friends had given as a gift!

Returning to New York, Nancy attended Columbia University Teachers’ College to get her Masters’ in teaching, one of the professions open to smart young women like Nancy! But she also became very involved at Anthroposophical Headquarters at 211 Madison Avenue. It was there that she got involved with Hans and Ruth Pusch and their Mystery Drama circle, and in a Eurythmy class, as Nancy moved on stage, there in the audience a young man who looked to be a boy sat next to her mother Gammer and said “That’s the girl I’m gonna marry!” Well, Nancy thought he was too young, but he did have an army discharge button, and the two went on their first date on January 12, 1947, when they shared their first kiss of many! They were married by Fritz Koelln at the Steiner School in NY on March 21, 1948, and spent the following year in Europe for Johnny’s junior year abroad. There Nancy could continue her beginning studies in Eurythmy in Dornach on the weekends.

Returning home to Portland, Maine, Nancy began her career as a mother. John Jr. came along in 1950, followed by Ann Elizabeth in ’53 and Christina in ‘56. 

When John Jr. was old enough, back in New York, Nancy sought out a Eurythmy teacher. Hanni Schlaefli was certified by the Goetheanum to train Eurythmists and grant diplomas. Nancy traveled to Poundridge, NY many weekends. Hanni Schlaefli was not a small personality—somewhat terrifying actually— she even sent her girls to Hanni one weekend for a bit of discipline because she found she herself couldn’t say no! Hanni would say: “You can’t be a Eurythmist unless you completely change your etheric body!

But Nancy was undaunted and up for the challenge. She became the first Eurythmist trained in America. She threw herself with vim and vigor into the development and carrying forth of Eurythmy, She was at Headquarters every Friday night for the stage group, and when the kids were bigger, later out in Spring Valley, and later still in the Berkshires. She served as the driving force for the founding of the Eurythmy Association in North America, and the Performing Arts Section in America. She worked to bring great Eurythmists to America like Marguerite Lundgren and Else Klink, organizing the whole thing as a real impresario. In 1966, Nancy helped to organize and perform in an international Eurythmy conference on the big stage at the Goetheanum in Dornach, where she performed with her troop a quintessentially American program of African American Spirituals and the Song of Hiawatha. They brought the house down. She was also a teacher of Eurythmy, and when the children were in school, she would catch a quick flight to Washington DC every Tuesday where she would teach in a number of Waldorf schools, and be back home in time to cook supper!

Over the later years, her Eurythmist friends would visit, it was clear what a deep bond was formed through their shared love for this meaningful work. And the Eurythmy she brought to special needs folks in the Lifesharing community was also a special gift. Angels were in the room!

Nancy was utterly dedicated to her family—when the children were small, she was their mother first and foremost. There was also always room for other people in their home—the children’s friends would write in their high school yearbooks: “I love your parents so much!!”

As they got older, she shifted the relationship so that they became friends. She learned in parenting John that she could not get him to do what she wanted, but she made a deal with him—if he would tell her everything, he could do anything. This allowed him to begin developing himself, learning to listen through her deep listening and see himself. This carried through in all her parenting and grandparenting and her care for many people.

Always over the years, she and Johnny were passionately engaged in the work of the Branch, and often when Johnny got embroiled in affairs down at Headquarters, Nancy would first complain that he was involved and try to get him to extract himself, and then he would convince her to join him and off they went to work things through together. Anthroposophy was one of the languages that united them.But the other common language was Enthusiasm. Nancy was totally interested in all that her children, her husband, friends, colleagues were involved in. She went to everything. And she was so very often THRILLED! Her children call their home: Hyperbole House: Nancy was either thrilled or frantic!

Her frantic side perhaps came as the unavoidable mirror of that unbridled enthusiasm. And always with a reason, thanks to Johnny’s being diagnosed with Diabetes. When that happened, Nancy committed herself to keeping him healthy through diet. Of course, mischievous and playful as he was, Johnny was always sneaking sweets. And even if the children would go to grab a banana, Nancy might shriek: “You can’t have that banana! It’s Johnny’s Tuesday banana!” Her frantic nature only went so deep of course, it was merely a reflection of the care and concern she had for the world and her loved ones. But almost everything she was supportive of, she was thrilled about. She just liked to have things in hand. Though later she would admit “Johnny does what he wants anyway.”

The marriage that Nancy and Johnny shared was always filled with delight and interest, respect and shared passion in their search for true spiritual knowledge through Anthroposophy. Family dinners always began with a discussion of the children’s lives, and then in the second half, Nancy and Johnny discussed all of their work with the Branch and the Society, all their groups and studies, their work teaching and working to bring Eurythmy and Anthroposophy into the world. During this, the children were allowed to leave the table. They remember too that there were discussions that happened behind the glass doors, a picture of the clear boundaries of these parents, who knew what to burden their children with, and what was grownup talk. They shared a rich conversation culture as well, which stayed alive and thriving their whole life together. Even when differences of opinion arose, they knew how to fight fairly with one another, never losing the central respect.

The worst conflict I heard tell of was when John Jr. was young, and Johnny had his beloved motorcycle. He would take John riding. When Nancy discovered that Ann Elizabeth was on the way, she decided it was time to get rid of the motorcycle. Johnny wasn’t having it! The story goes that he drove that motorcycle right into the living room in Jackson Heights. “It’s me or the motorcycle.” Well, she sent him off to have one more blissful ride with his son, and then he sold the motorcycle.

Johnny was always coming up with practical jokes and Nancy was most often his straight man. But Nancy too loved to joke especially on April Fools’ Day—offering the children her favorite Oreo cookies, for them only to find they tasted of lemon and pepper, or handing out the desert the children had requested: chocolate pudding and whipped cream, which they discovered was black bean curd soup with egg whites. She even managed to trick Johnny once, looking out the window and shouting “Johnny, the car’s gone! The car’s gone!” which sent him into the street running, only to find his wife had got him.

Grandchildren came along—eleven of them! And Nancy and Johnny became Nonny and Fa. Johnny took on the Swedish name for Grandfather—Farfar, shortened to Fa, and indeed carried something of the Scandinavian spirit—whereas Nancy wanted to be called the Italian name for Grandmother—Nonny. And she fit the bill—for she created always an atmosphere of warmth, nourishment and coziness.

If Fa was the only one in the house and someone came, there might only be a light on in his office. If Nonny was there, many lamps were lit and it was “home.” She always had nourishing food (lots of whole grains and at least five vegetables per meal!) for anyone who came to the table, and at holiday meals, she held forth as the matriarch. The silver came out, which the grandchildren polished even if it didn’t need it, the table was set, grace was said or sung, and in this moment Nonny made sure also to invoke their parents who came before. She had the deepest respect especially for her mother who had really worked to change herself and overcome her own temperament. Nonny commanded with elegance and grace.  Stories were told, as they always were with Nonny.

She could tell you all about someone so that you became involved as if you knew them, or had been there.  She had a particular way about her—either frantic or thrilled! But you could see how much she took people into herself with deep love and devotion, not only for who they were, but also for whom they could become, their highest potential. Many people speak of how she was their champion, people in the arts especially, but all the grandchildren, and her children and students all along the way.

As grandmother, mother and staunch supporter of many—everyone’s champion—she was never really in front, but often the driving force behind things happening. She had a gift for inspiring people to see how important it would be for them to step in and take on a task, so that they then did it out of themselves! She was a kind of social alchemist, with an unquenchable fire of enthusiasm. Even in Eurythmy she was not the star, not a performer with particular flair, but a competent, steady member of the ensemble, creating community wherever she went. And she was indeed a lovely Eurythmist, I have heard.

In her various work, she threw herself in so completely, that sometimes it seemed impossible for her to judge when something wasn’t going to work out or wasn’t meant to be. She often had a real gift for waiting until something seemed ripe—but occasionally hung on too long. Her work with the Social Science Section probably needed to end long before it did, but she simply could not let go. Her forces could no longer meet the task at all, but she tried desperately to hang on, and felt it as a deep pain when they no longer met at her house, though she had long been sleeping through the meetings.

Her health was remarkably good—but she was diagnosed with cancer at several points. But she saw it as something that appears in your life to tell you it is time to change something. And each time she set to work, only having surgery and taking on the rest with Anthroposophical medicine and therapies. She was even grateful when the first bout with cancer brought her to Europe for a year, and she took full advantage of all the healing therapies she could partake in! Never was there a firmer believer in Anthroposophical medicine. And never a better example! For Nancy did not die of cancer, and her heartbeat was strong until the last!

Nancy and Johnny spent 66 years married to one another. The grandchildren and children have all looked to them as a model. In a world where divorce is more common than staying together, Johnny and Nancy’s always affectionate, interested and loving way with one another have inspired many.

The two of them drove everywhere together, arriving with Nancy’s baskets of wheatgerm and vitamins and remedies for Johnny, and their books, and joy at life and readiness to experience anything and everything. Everyone remarks how together they were a powerhouse.

With an unbelievable commitment on the part of their children and their spouses to keeping Nancy and Johnny at home for their final years, and the amazing help of caregivers Stephen—who spiritually and physically accompanied their passing with a new Haiku written every morning “From the Endearing Duet” and Leila, who cared for them as her own grandparents, and grandson Jason—who was able to experience a special time with them and remarked how Nonny called everyone “Precious”— and they could both die in Orchard House, the home that Johnny had built for them and in which they had lived for the past 33 years.

Matriarch of the family, holding everyone together, waiting until significant events like the right job, the finalization of the adoption and her own dear Johnny’s passing, Nancy was again, always where she needed to be until the last.

As her daughter Ann-Elizabeth wrote: Nancy crossed the threshold peacefully in her sleep this morning just before 4 a.m. True to her Libra nature the full moon was setting in the west as the morning star was rising in the east. They were equidistant from the horizon. Harmony and balance in the heavens as she headed off to join her beloved Johnny less than two weeks after he crossed the threshold. A beautiful reunion, a precious event.

She had said just after he died: “I tried so long to keep him!” and “Johnny went off to a Vorstand meeting, and I’m late!” and “I can’t believe he left me!”

Now she has joined him and others in the spiritual realms they both love, and will surely continue working for the good of humanity and the earth.

 

 REMINISCENCES BY CHISSY MAC MOOLEY  (CHRISTINA -- THE YOUNGEST DAUGHTER)

My father was an excellent story-teller and a great read-alouder, but he was also a bit of a joker, and couldn’t resist teasing sometimes when he told me bed-time stories. The ritual went something like this. If he read me a Howard Pyle story, we were safe and had a perfect reading experience. Stories he made up were chancier. They always began: Once, long, long ago and far far away, there lived a king and a queen and they had three sons.” This was followed by a number of plot points and a little character development, enough to get one of the princes out in the forest on a journey. Then would come “and he went along, and he went along” endlessly until I would cry out “Daddy, you can’t do that! What happened then???” The trick was to keep the story going and then to get it out of the “went along” track. I loved best the look on my father’s face as he watched it dawn on me that the Prince was stuck going along in the forest forever.

 

One of my favorite memories of our year in Switzerland in 1965-66 was our exploring the architecture of churches. On one trip we got lost looking for the Romanesque Church in Vezelay, France and arrived later than we had meant to. It was already getting dark and the church was closed to the public. Somehow my father found a nice person who took pity on us; he allowed my father to take a long pole and attach a church candle to the pole and carry it around from capital to capitol, showing us the intricate and beautiful carvings the church is famous for. It was an utterly magical experience to be the only ones in the church at twilight, with the carvings illuminated by the candle’s flickering light, and to hear my father, who seemed to know everything about them, tell us the stories pictured in the carvings, and to hear him speaking French with the nice man he had won over. It made a huge impression on me.

 

One of my favorite memories from high school, which shaped my taste in music forever after, was the chorus’ performance of Ruddigore by Gilbert and Sullivan. It was made particularly special by Ann-E’s returning from a year in Europe in time for it. Carol Ann Soybel had the lead one night and Elena the other; Johnny had one of the main male parts. He played Richard, a seaman, just returned to the small village. I remember Keith Francis’ being worried that Johnny would never take the time to learn his part, but on opening night Johnny brought the house down with his entrance from the back of the hall in his sailor suit, bounding up onto the stage and singing his first solo. The applause was deafening, and I was unutterably proud of his talented, beautiful self, and the love that the whole school felt for him. Later on in the show, he had a duet with Elena that Ann-E and I continued to sing with him for the rest of his life. It would have made an appropriate funeral song . “The battle’s roar is over oh my love! Embrace your tender lover, oh my love! From Tempest’s welter and war’s alarm, oh give me shelter within those arms, oh give me shelter within those arms!” Because of that wonderful experience, I convinced our Waldorf School to put on Ruddigore, hoping Natty could reprise Fa’s role. He got another part (Eric Foxman’s), and the director cut my favorite song altogether, but it was still an extraordinary happiness-making show.

 

A more recent memory—from only about 25 years ago!  When Henry was born, I was suddenly engulfed by my recognition of all the terrible things that filled the world he would grow up in. I shared my father’s sometimes alarmed and alarming melancholic pessimism, and wasn’t sure he could cheer me up the way Nonny tried so valiantly to do, sending me prayers, verses and meditations to say for strength to bear the human condition in the modern age. But Fa came through one day when we were standing in the orchard, and I told him I didn’t think I could finish graduate school when there were so many pressing problems in the world that needed everyone’s immediate attention. He very kindly pointed out many of the things that were getting better in the world (mostly progress in Civil Rights) and said that it really was alright for me to concentrate on my child and my work. He said “you’ll have plenty of time to tackle the world’s problems when your children are grown.” It was such a sweet, reassuring thing to say. Now that Henry and Natty ARE grown, I have begun to teach in the Environmental Program at SMC. It isn’t much, but it is the direction that he promised me I would have time to go in, and I am very grateful to him for taking a moment away from his usual contemplations of how bad he thought things were to tell me not to let the problems of the world overwhelm me.

 

REMINISCENCES BY BIDBIT  (ANN-ELIZABETH  -- THE MIDDLE DAUGHTER)

As you know, my father was a history teacher. One year there was an ad in our Steiner yearbook that said: “History is bunk”, Henry Ford.

Below this ¼ page ad my father had inscribed:

“Fords are Junk”, History. 

This type of humor was a hallmark of my father’s ability to turn a slur upside down and make you laugh. He did this my whole life. His humor and his wit did much to lessen what I considered the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’ and helped me to see the lighter side of karma.  Another attribute was his warm-hearted support of all that I took an interest in. This genuine and authentic interest created a space for me to feel endorsed in trying to unfold my true being. He would say “If you want to do it, are enthusiastic about it, then what is stopping you?”

Both my parents had a boundless interest in what their children and grandchildren were up to. And if we were interested in something then they were more than willing to support us in it and egg us on in our endeavors. I was always called his ‘busiest wip’ (an affectionate term used for many children). My choleric nature necessitated I always be doing something. Calling me his busiest wip somehow legitimized my temperament, made it acceptable to be the way I was  (cholerics are very aware of their shadow sides!) My parents enthusiasm and interest in the world was infectious.  I remember when my mother was studying a series of Steiner lectures called “The Spiritual Hierarchies” and she enthusiastically told me about elemental beings who help order the world. She was so excited by learning about them and wanting to help them in their mission that I also became interested, fascinated really, about them and have continued this interest as it has developed into a kind of life’s work. 

My mother had many aphorisms and sayings that have guided me (and presumably her) through life. For every difficult situation that arose, she had a verse that helped me to not only bear it, but also see it as a welcome challenge to overcome. She would say “you have to love your destiny!” and she truly meant it! If you think about that declaration, it is very profound and if you do it, it works every time to reset your relationship to what is going on in your life. She also was able to tackle life’s curve balls by striving for equanimity when facing issues arising out of her destiny. And she guided me in this, as well.

Her ability to repeat verbatim conversations she had with various kith and kin also functioned to create a network of information about the goings-on of our family and friends that cultivated love and interest in each other. I cannot emphasize enough how that facility became the foundation for our thrice yearly family gatherings at Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Her interest cultivated our interest.

I am only at the very beginning of realizing how profoundly rich our lives were because of them. And this process of remembering will go on and on, varying in intensity, over the rest of my life. Good Mother, Good Father, Farewell and Godspeed!

In the picture, Amira is in front, Nadia, Allison, AnnE and Shawnee in the middle and Jonathan, Richard. Aaron and Bryan in the back

 

REMINISCENCE BY JOHN JR  (NO NICKNAME THAT STUCK)  ELDEST SON

My Father was always an inspiring figure in my life and I have wonderful memories of penetrating advice, moments of insight and shared ideals.  The aspect of my father’s life, however, that I need to share is how painful it was for him, and how gracefully he bore the pain, of not being believed or understood when his quest for truth would lead to insights about the hidden powers that rule the world.  In the mid sixties Johnny discovered a book by a history professor, Carroll Quigley: Tragedy and Hope, a History of the World in Our Time, which, after it was published, was withdrawn from circulation, taken out of all the libraries and was basically unavailable.  My Dad had a photocopy of it!  All 1200 pages!  The most famous quote from that book is:  The powers of financial capitalism had another far-reaching aim, nothing less than to create a world system of financial control in private hands able to dominate the political system of each country and the economy of the world as a whole. This system was to be controlled in a feudalist fashion by the central banks of the world acting in concert, by secret agreements arrived at in frequent meetings and conferences. The apex of the systems was to be the Bank for International Settlements in Basel, Switzerland, a private bank owned and controlled by the world's central banks which were themselves private corporations. Each central bank...sought to dominate its government by its ability to control Treasury loans, to manipulate foreign exchanges, to influence the level of economic activity in the country, and to influence cooperative politicians by subsequent economic rewards in the business world.

Johnny didn’t just accept what Quigley wrote, he did his own research and found a tremendous amount of corroborating evidence.  When I first started hearing about this from him in the early seventies, I had a similar response as most people:  “I don’t want to think like that!”  It wasn’t until much later that I took up my own research, and have since gone much farther than my Dad in understanding the powers that be; and I share his frustration with people who are just unwilling to look at the evidence. 

My mother was very worried that Johnny would be viewed as a crackpot conspiracy theorist; and the Steiner School Faculty and Administration were very concerned that Johnny’s take on history would give the school a bad name.  This was a source of sadness in his life and he only very reluctantly accepted their cowardice and apathy.  He settled with becoming very adept at hinting at the problems and encouraging his colleagues and students to think deeply about their ideals and act out of inspiration and love. 

The good part of this, however, is that it gives that much more impetus to ones life to find and support solutions to the problems created by the banking elites.  Threefolding became his theme, and he made valiant efforts to have the Steiner School adopt the threefold constitution he developed.  He wanted the school to be more representative of Steiner’s educational ideals and build a goetheanistic building to represent Anthroposophy in New York City.  He brought the building project to the stage where a real fundraising campaign could be undertaken.  When the Trustees decided against it, it was just more evidence of the need for Threefold. And it led to his decision to leave the school and take up the threefold ideals together with the Schumacher Society, Owen deRis and Bob Swann. So he and Nancy sold their house in Jackson Heights (the huge price increase was more evidence  of the need for threefold) moved to the Berkshires, funded the start of the Community Land Trust, built a house, and a windmill to power it, and devoted themselves to a new social order.  

When I returned from England it was just obvious that my parents would join me in realizing the social future.  The first American Community Supported Agriculture project started in their orchard  and met in their living room, The Cadmus Lifesharing Association arose out of threefold ideals and Cadmus & Cascades Recycling happened because Johnny said “let’s do it” and put up substantial money.  As I pursued the nature of money and banking issues, Johnny and Nancy were my staunch supporters.  Just Abundance, and Common Good Finance, etc. all arose out of my relationship with my Mom and Dad and the social impulse to put a true picture of the human being as a social being into practice. 

This is the great theme in Johnny’s life, which I have come to formulate as a series of questions he always implicitly asked: “Who are you?  What do I have to do with you?  What do WE want?”  These questions form the basis for creating the social future in which the machinations of Ahriman can be overcome and a society and economy worthy of the human being can be established. 

Johnny and Nancy were pioneers, visionaries, of the social future.  I am, as they still are, dedicated to realizing those ideals .  The time may be at hand.

 

FORMER STUDENTS MEMORIES

I still think of Mr. Root as the youngish man he was when we were in high school:  Boyish in his looks, idealistic, dedicated, full of out-of-the box ideas, and good humor. I remember how much John admired his father. What a special relationship it was.

I think how fortunate our class of '68 was to have lived in such extraordinary times, volatile and crazy as the sixties were, but also so full of hope and idealism and creativity; and to have had such an extraordinary group of teachers as we had at Steiner, with Mr. Root certainly one of the bright lights.

I remember in eighth grade when I was still new and green at Steiner, John Jr. befriended me, and I was invited several times to his home in Jackson Heights. My first impression of the Root household was one of utter chaos. I remember the sound level being very high, a lot of running around, intensity, kids calling out their needs left and right–and Mrs Root scrambling around, attempting to take care of everyone.  And then there was Mr.Root (I think he had just come in from fixing the car. I seem to remember a lot of fixing and building of cars in the Root home). Anyway, there he was, the one person, calm in the storm. He seemed to take the cacophony all in stride. Even to smile about it. There were no reprimands. No calling kids to behave. I don’t know if this is actually how things went, but this is how it appeared to me. Perhaps because I was an only child coming from a more fractured household, when the sound level went up, it could feel threatening. But here it didn’t seem threatening at all. In fact this family seemed quite united, as I would witness when they all sat down together for dinner. There just seemed to be this atmosphere of freedom. Freedom––without fear. This struck me.

 

The next impression from those first visits is that this family was ‘far out.’  I vaguely remember talk of Edgar Cayce, communication with the dead, invisible worlds… Again it’s more the impression that I took away with me than the accuracy of the details, but I know it was with the Roots, especially John and Mr. Root, that I was first exposed to other ‘possibilities’ of reality and consciousness. This was all new to me, certainly not part of the environment I was coming from, but it appealed to my innate attraction to the mystery of things. It was a seed that blew my way– that ended up taking “root,” and that would continue to grow and deepen through my Steiner years, and beyond.

In 1999, I, along with my husband, Bryan, and our three-year old son, Cali, were invited to take part in an Easter Saturday lunch up at the Root’s house in Massachusetts. Four generations of the Root family were present. Mr. and Mrs Root, of course. Ann-Elizabeth with her husband and two daughters (I believe her son was in Costa Rica at the time doing volunteer work); and Ann-Elizabeth’s seven-month-old grand-daughter. Ann-Elizabeth a grandmother! I couldn’t believe it. She was a freshman when I graduated Steiner. And there was Christina, whom I hadn’t seen in years, now herself a teacher, with her husband and two young sons. And there was John Jr, and wife Christina, their four grown children, as well as the three handicapped men who lived with them. I was immediately reminded of the warmth, unity, and continuity of the Root family. A continuity of high ideals and service. Our son was instantly drawn to the special atmosphere of the home and quickly adapted to the large group of people present. When I mentioned this to Mr. Root he laughed and said, “Maybe he’ll be a politician.”  I think I instinctively said, ‘Oh God, I hope not,’ but, sure enough, Cali, soon to go off to college, seems determined to go into politics. And that was the thing about Mr. Root. He had vision. It came through in his being, it came through in his teaching. He and Mrs Root had high ideals and they lived them, and through their presence and their dedication to the service of others they made the world a better place.

Corinne Chateau  Class of 1968

 Johnny and Nancy Root were very precious to me, and I am sad to hear of their passing. When I last saw them, I remember Nancy saying  cheerfully "We are as old as the hills", with her endearing laugh. 

Ever since we became friends in the 60's, they welcomed me with love. At Steiner, I felt deeply inspired by Johnny's brilliant and creative teaching, facilitating me to think more profoundly and holistically. As we all know, he was deeply devoted to his students, understanding our strengths, and helping us in whatever ways we needed. In addition to calling many of us "little"  we had personal nick names; mine was "Leisurely", which I still laugh about.!

I  was thrilled to spend a summer with them, working at a camp  in Virginia,  making meals together and enjoying trips in the famous bus that Johnny had built. Indeed, they became extended family, a wonderful blessing in my life!

With love and gratitude,

Leslie Perelman

 

In my yearbook,  Mr. Root wrote this to me:  “Let’s never neglect to keep up the tradition of laughing uproariously at each other. It was a helluva lot more fun than gimballizing.  Love, JRoot “, and his comments in my Blue Book have been a treasure to me for 46 years. 

A few years ago I wrote to him to say ‘thank you’ and to let him know that his insight about me in 1968 had been exceedingly accurate, and that although it took me a while, I did eventually go on to do work in the world that I thought he would be proud of, and that fulfilled his wish for me. 

I am so grateful to have had Mr. Root in my life as a teacher and guide. My love and thoughts go out to his family. 

Lea Semple

 

There is no way I will ever call John G Root anything other than Mr. Root.   That's because I knew him when I was a child and then he taught me in high school.  He was probably the most influential teacher that I ever had.   Maybe not the best.   Certainly not the most interesting.  But I am sure he was the most influential.  He taught high school level history in his own way, which I can only describe as little bursts of brilliant sparks in a dimly lit room.  He had a peaceful, unflappable, and kindly disposition.  He treated everyone as an adult. Very few of us students could respond in kind.

He greatly annoyed and/or amused many of his peers and students with his conspiratorial views of modern history.   He loved to speak to us about the need for social renewal in the face of what he perceived as an appalling lack of moral leadership on the world stage.  He was unafraid of speaking about Steiner's social impulses, but there wasn't an ounce of indoctrinal fervor in his teachings.  

He left us very free to struggle with difficult concepts, and, I realize now, his answers to our questions were often deliberately vague. 

I "re-met" Mr. Root much later in life when he had stepped back from teaching and moved with his wife to the Berkshires.  He actually tipped me off to start a career in outdoor education, back around the time when I was turning forty.  I also spent many an evening with him in anthroposophical study groups.  

  I often thought that there was a certain sadness about Mr. Root.   Maybe I am imputing this to him, it is hard to say.  It struck me that he was ahead of his time, and I wonder if there were enough people around him who were truly able to respond to him with proper understanding and enthusiasm.   His far-reaching social impulses and standpoint on human freedom are of the future, one might say.  Most of us are just plain too "busy" and/or too lazy to pick up where he left off. 

Nicholas Franceschelli

 

COLLEAGUES COMMENTS

I met John (whom I never thought of as the diminutive Johnny) in California where he came several times to teach economic blocks at my daughter’s school.   He was brought to my home by friends one of those years, and gained a positive impression of me apparently only because I was changing my own motor oil when they arrived.

Not much of a connection--  but, mercifully, this was a man who took on lost souls.

Six or seven years later, having given up writing for the newspaper, and in one of my many flawed gestures joining (sight unseen) a lifesharing community in the wilds of New Hampshire, I found myself in a state that might  be described as wild desperation.

I wrote to the only person I knew in the business, John, not imagining that anyone would take on a cause created by a woman old enough to have some notion of her own  destiny or usefulness, and told him I was mismatched.   He called me, explained that I should come to the Berkshires and meet his colleagues in Cadmus, and gallantly set up three interviews for me among that group (although knowledge of auto maintenance was not a strong indicator of success in the field.)

It  turned out that one of these associates was of the same school as John, and had an inclination to take on those who can’t seem to find the path or recognize it if they wander onto it accidentally.  

So, here I am in the winter of my years, still adapting to the idea of winter at all, still making gestures that seem not to change the world, and trying to figure out the next chapter from the foreshadowing that appears only dimly on the chalkboard.  

Kathleen Williams

 

I am truly impressed by the spirit will and collaboration needed to cross the Threshold within two weeks of each other. What further testimony does one need to demonstrate Nancy and John's lifelong commitment to the metamorphosis of social life--from the most personal to global.  

It was a privilege to work with them, especially in their home, these past years of the Social Science Section. They are a living model for me of living a principled social life for its own sake, knowing it is contributing to the broader social change in the long term.

Michael Howard

 

It has been very moving and profound for me to experience how you and your family have so openly and graciously celebrated the lives of your parents in the past weeks. I am so thankful, and have learned so much.

I am also thankful that I knew John and Nancy the little that I did in their late years (when I arrived in the area and took on Chanticleer, they were still at the Branch Coordinating meetings every month without fail) and I am in some ways carrying on their work.

It is only right that the next issue of Chanticleer feature them prominently. I do not know yet what that should like, or what will be contributed, but any documents or photos you have and would like to share, or suggestions, would be most appreciated.  This is not an urgent request as the next issue is not until September, but I thought I would make it now, so that I could send it along with my warmest heartfelt thanks and well-wishes.

John Scott Legg

 

 

JONATHAN BARNES (BIDBIT’S YOUNGEST)  EXCERPT FROM A TALK HE GAVE AT THEIR 60TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

Nancy and Johnny serve as true examples of how two people acting as one can become a powerful force of love, conviction, and action. Looking back at their life as husband and wife, their achievements can only be described as monumental and exemplary. From being pioneers of the Anthroposophical movement in the U.S., to inspiring countless students at the Waldorf school in New York City, to managing a full household for Cadmus. In each example, they have collectively served as a beacon for moral action, justice, and service, and left behind a legacy of deeds of love.

Yet at the same time, each as separate persons, have taken on leadership roles within their own areas of professional and social interest, from Nancy’s graceful Eurythmy to Johnny’s punctuated “sprach gestaltung,” from Nancy’s solo authorship of Chanticleer to Johnny’s co-founding of Antioch. They have individually served as role models and a resource to the Anthroposophical Society as they have reached a deeper understanding of Steiner’s teachings than most dream of ever attaining. And they have done all of this as husband and wife, and individually as Nancy and John Root, Sr.

 

Nanny is a woman of great passion, grace, intelligence, and will, who wholeheartedly commits to her beliefs and actions 200 percent. I don’t think anyone can say otherwise. She has committed her life to helping others and has always done so from a place of genuine belief and conviction. She is also a great listener, probably the best kind, as she doesn’t listen with judgment or skepticism, but rather with optimism and complete trust that what you are saying is the absolute truth. She will hear every word and every detail to the point that I honestly believe she is able to experience what you are describing. Then, in more eloquent prose, she will be able to recite your story with lavish detail and inject each positive description with an intoxicating optimism that will turn an ordinary academic certificate into a magna cum laude doctorate degree. While I have often characterized her as a woman of hyperbole, especially when I hear her tell a story of one of her grandchildren’s accomplishments, writing this piece has made me realize its not hyperbole that describes her, but rather absolute, unadulterated, sincere love.

Nanny has an amazing capacity to care, as I am sure everyone in this room can also attest to. The most poignant example being her maintenance of Johnny’s strict diet. Ever since his diagnosis of diabetes, she has been serving Johnny 35 vegetables, 47 grains, and 102 types of fruit everyday and has managed to Anthroposophically regulate the disease ever since. A little Arnica here…some Ferrum Phos there…some Cardiodoron for good measure…and voila! Perfect tests every time!! If that is not living life through deeds of love, Rudy, I don’t know what is.

Johnny is an intellectual man of intention, reservation, scholarship, and reflection. He has a strong sense of what is right and suffers greatly when a witness to injustice. He is a man of utmost integrity who would readily forego his own privilege to be in solidarity with those with none. As a teacher, he made himself a legend amongst his students by teaching them the honest dog-gone truth. And he did so without any loss of respect or credibility, which are often victims of such honest expression. Johnny has spent his life serving others, and in doing so, fulfilling the part of role model for countless people. His work at Antioch inspired countless men and women to seek spiritual sustenance from Anthroposophy and instill creativity bestowed upon them unto their students.

Together, Nancy and Johnny form the perfect union, as each of their strengths and weaknesses compliment the other’s. They have skillfully and purposefully struck a balance whereby each is charged with making sure their end of the bargain is upheld. Together, they have acted from a place of genuine love and morality. As I believe Steiner would say, the highest morality exists when a deed actively connects a person's inner life with the external world through deeds of love, and Nanny and Fa have undoubtedly achieved this. I think everyone is here today because we are in agreement that both Nancy and Johnny have lived their lives and thus their marriage in this manner. The life they have created together, the deeds they have done, the tasks accomplished, all point to genuine expression of love and together have forged 60 amazing years of marriage.

After 60 years of marriage, Nonny and Fa have seldom lost perspective of who they are and what they mean to each other. They have upheld the elements of love in the face of distraction and achieved something so special we have all come here today to celebrate it. As I am sure Herr Steiner would agree, through their 

profound love, they have awakened their spiritual and become truly conscious beings in the physical. And, to truly honor them, the reason why I chose to write a piece about their marriage was not only to try to describe their marriage in deserving discourse, but to also remind the rest of us that to truly celebrate them and their 60 years of marriage is not to raise our glasses in salute, but rather try and do what they have done, and to love as they have loved.