In a New York funeral state of mind

I've been to funerals in many parts of the country, but nothing is quite like a funeral in the New York metropolitan area. For one thing, the cemeteries always seem to be far from the funeral homes, making for extra-long funeral processions. And where else do you see a hearse with EZPass?

Today I drove 40 miles as part of a funeral procession in New Jersey. As we left the funeral home with our high beams and hazard lights on, motorists honked, cursed, and cut into the procession without apology. When I flashed my "FUNERAL" placard in an attempt to calm people down, I thought I was sending the message "be patient, we are part of a funeral" but the other drivers seemed to be receiving the message "cut me off and it will be your funeral." And they reacted accordingly.

As we drove down the Garden State Parkway, a young woman pulled out from the entrance ramp and I slowed to let her in. She noticed my funeral placard and pulled over to the side of the road to let the procession pass. Must have been from out of state.

The hour-long procession gave me plenty of time to reflect on Jerry's passing and the heart-wrenching speeches delivered by his three sons at the funeral.

A recurring theme as Jerry was eulogized was the emphasis he placed on helping others, as evidenced both by his own actions and by teaching his sons to do the same. Somewhere around exit 142, it dawned on me that this family tradition of helpfulness is how I was introduced to Jerry and two of his sons before I ever actually met them.

Jerry's eldest son Mark and I were asked to help with a mutual friend's wedding. We worked together long-distance and grew to be friends before ever meeting in person. Later, when I was relocating to a new town, I was put in touch with Jerry's middle son, Sandy, who already lived in the town. Sandy and I exchanged email messages and he provided candid and helpful insights that were instrumental when I decided where to live. I chose the right neighborhood for my needs and was grateful to Sandy for taking the time to help a "stranger." Many years passed before I met Sandy face-to-face. And finally, before ever meeting Jerry and his dear wife Bunny, I spent a week in their home while they were out of town. No one who knows them will be surprised that their "open door policy" extended to people they didn't even know.

Another characteristic that was mentioned every time (and I mean every time) someone spoke about Jerry was his sense of humor and his repertoire of jokes. (You know the ones, the jokes that are told by your father or grandfather over and over until you can barely stand it.)

The first time Jerry told me one of his standards, he had barely started to set up the joke when I couldn't help but smile. He smiled back, realizing that I already knew the joke.  We delivered the punchline in unison and both started to laugh, enjoying the shared knowledge. He wasn't angry or disappointed that I "ruined" the joke. Instead, he was tickled that I knew the same jokes from my father and my zeyda (grandfather.) Jerry had an effortless way of connecting with others and putting them at ease, and that trait is readily apparent in his three sons as well.

All of Jerry's virtues that were extolled, all of the values he held dear, have all been passed on to his sons. As I stood at the grave and watched those three heartbroken men shovel dirt onto their father's coffin, I could barely stand the intense sadness permeating every person in attendance. But I knew that while they were burying Jerry's body, they were perpetuating his soul. Jerry's humor and kindness and generosity will surely live on. And we will all be the welcome recipients.

Not a Fan

I think the time has finally come for me to share my secret: I don't like football. In fact, I'm not much of a sports fan of any type. I attended Penn State when the football team won the National Championship in 1986, but to this day I've still never attended a football game. I'm also not a proud Penn Stater. Not that I have any particular ill will towards my Alma mater, but I'm not generally loyal to institutions. So that said, I don't care if Penn State's reputation is sullied by recent events or if the football program suffers. I'm past the point in my career where prospective employers will judge me by the standing of my undergraduate school, so the downfall of Penn State would have no practical ramifications for me.

So now you know, my friends and family who bleed blue and white, what I have always been nervous to state openly: I'm not a fan. I don't care about Penn State or football or Joe Paterno. But before you stop reading in disgust, please let me tell you what I *do* care deeply about: the safety and welfare of children.  And despite the fact that I don't even really know what the NCAA is or what it does, I care very much about the recent sanctions imposed on Penn State. Why do I care? Because to me, the NCAA is abusing its power in a manner that furthers its own agenda at the expense of Jerry Sandusky's victims.

Perhaps I am ill-informed about the system works, but from the basic news coverage, it seems that the NCAA (which even a sports ignoramus like me knows stands for National Collegiate Athletic Association) is punishing Penn State and its football program for something that is not related to athletics.  I won't recount the specifics of the sanctions, as I'm sure you have all heard them and read them countless times and probably understand them much better than I. But I will tell you what I think as an "outsider" -- rewriting history by removing wins from the team's record seems to punish the players most of all, players who had nothing to do with any of this. I don't see how these sanctions will do anything to rectify the appalling lack of a compliance infrastructure at the university, a problem which is not limited to the football program. (And here I do have some expertise, having worked for many years as a compliance professional.) Furthermore, the sanctions are being brought by an organization whose purview does not extend to the actions triggering the sanctions. In the past week, I have seen that when others criticize the NCAA, they are met with accusations that they are "die-hard" Penn Staters, overly loyal to JoePa's memory, biased and unable to see the "truth." But here I am, clearly not any of those things, and I'm saying it DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.  Do I care if the NCAA wrongly sanctions a college football program? Am I outraged by the injustice of it all? Honestly, no.  I don't support that type of injustice, but I have other fights to fight that matter much more to me. But in this case, I care because the NCAA's ruling is all over the news. People are reporting and blogging and arguing about the NCAA's actions. In a tragic situation where various parties keep shifting the focus off the victims,  the NCAA has stepped in and taken its turn at stealing the spotlight from the once-young men who were abused by Jerry Sandusky. So I am outraged. Not out of Penn State pride or long-standing loyalty to an iconic coach, but out of concern and respect for the men whose lives were forever damaged. Shame on the NCAA for stealing the headlines and distracting everyone from the tragedy that truly matters. The NCAA blames Penn State officials for abusing power, but even someone who's not a fan can see that the NCAA has done the exact same thing.

7/3/2012