Renaissance men…

Was speaking with a former colleague in a funeral home parking lot the other day. We were there to pay respects to a longtime educator. My fellow teacher left me with this remark, “those guys were Renaissance men. They don’t make them like that anymore.” That thought has been swirling around in my mind ever since.

According to the Encyclopedia Brittanica, the phrase was coined by Leon Battista Alberti (1404-1472) and meant “a man can do all things if he will.” In other words, men should try to develop their own capacities as much as possible. We are used to using the term in relation to men, but it also relates to women.

My colleague and I were thinking of the teachers we’d had through the 1960s and 1970s, individuals whose knowledge went far beyond the subject matter of the discipline in which they taught. These folks were teachers because they had a joy and respect for disseminating knowledge.

Not only did they love teaching, they embraced their fields of study. Teaching was not at all lucrative during those decades. Those teachers often maintained 2-3 jobs to provide for their families. They worked well beyond the normal school day attending workshops and classes to enhance their teaching skills. When they could, they traveled to enrich their knowledge of what they taught.

Also important to them was their sense of community. Many volunteered with service organizations, local politics, community theater or music organizations. They were anxious to be a part of the whole. They worked hard to allow us to be better people. They exposed us to ideas we were unable to conceive at a young age. They gave us the capabilities to become Renaissance people.

An individual who exemplified these ideals in every way left us for Heaven this past week. I paid my respects to the shell of the once robust and vital man I had known. His loss has affected me far more profoundly than I would have guessed.

This man inspired me to work harder as a student. I wanted to please him and have him respect my effort. He caused me to want to learn beyond just the basics of American History. And that was as a high school junior. It laid a foundation for my eventual love of American History.

Fifteen years after high school graduation, I began my teaching career at my alma mater. His was one of the first of many familiar faces I glimpsed on that inaugural day. He beamed at me and said, “Oh my God, they allowed you back in this building?” I hoped it was said in jest so I played along and replied, “they said I’d finally grown up.” A hearty laugh was followed by, “that remains to be seen.” Though it took me two months to feel comfortable enough to call this man by his first name (I was 32), this was the man I came to know as a mentor and friend.

Fast forward another twenty years and we’d become neighbors. We spent many a quiet morning at the community pool swimming laps, reading, and sharing conversations. After a few summers he announced he was moving to Florida and my heart sank, knowing I would miss my swim buddy terribly.

Add another five years. He’d returned to the area. This past summer he attended a cocktail party at the pool. Due to my COVID fears, I did not attend. Add several months and the shocking news appeared in a Facebook post. He was gone. He was unique and truly a Renaissance man. He was a father, grandfather, husband, teacher, administrator, mentor. But that was just a tip of the iceberg. There’s just too much to list here. He was an inspiration. I’m proud to say he was my friend. I will miss his strong presence, his hearty laugh, and his interesting stories. I’m so thankful to have known him on so many different levels. He is now reunited with his lovely wife whom he had missed desperately since her death many years ago. They have a lot of catching up to do.

Be well, Dom, until we meet again. You were the epitome of a Renaissance Man.

Dominick J. DeCecco 1936-2022

“I am the soft stars that shine at night./Do not stand at my grave and cry;/I am not there. I did not die.” Mary Elizabeth Frye