Meeting Mrs. Brown

I'm spending the week at the University of Kansas attending a seminar hosted by the Gilder Lehrman Institute for American History on the Civil Rights Movement, in particular the Brown vs. the Board of Education decision. I'm hoping to write a few times over the course of the seminar to share my thoughts on history, teaching and the fact that it's 106 degrees outside (apparently Lawrence, KS is located on the surface of the sun.)

As a history teacher, I am constantly reminded that the use of primary sources is the best way to enhance lessons and activities. While the use of documents and political cartoons is excellent, today I had the chance to work with the best primary source there is: a person who lived through the event.

Today our group had the chance to meet with Leota Brown Montgomery, the wife of Oliver Brown and mother of Linda Brown. The Browns, along with other families from both Kansas and around the country, fought for their children to have equal access to education in a case that was argued at the Supreme Court. While the landmark decision did not necessarily end segregation in our schools, it did give students of color the same educational opportunities afforded to white children. Hearing Mrs. Brown Montgomery talk about her life in Topeka and her family's experiences during the case that bears their name was amazing and is an experience I am looking forward to sharing with my students next year.

In addition to sharing stories of the Brown case, Mrs. Brown Montgomery provided much more. She is a living reminder that, although our country has made great strides in regards to race and equality, we still have many citizens who lived through the difficulties and struggles that made up so much of the African American experience in the 20th century.  These individuals help us remember that we aren't all that far removed from a time where American citizens were discriminated against because of the color of their skin. Since 2008 we have heard how far we have come because we have a black president. While this is true, we are also only 60 years (a blink of the eye time wise) removed from a time where parents had to send their children to schools far from home because of their race.

For Seamus

A six pack of Budweiser.

At each family party hosted at my parents house, I was in charge of getting the beer (no small responsibility in my family).  As a part of this task, I had to have at least a six pack of Budweiser in the cooler for my Uncle Seamus. Seamus loved cans of Bud (preferably in a beer koozie) and it was left to me to make sure there were a few available.

While I am a member of a stereotypical large Irish family, the large majority of my aunts, uncles and cousins live in Ireland. Growing up in New York, I had two sets of cousins: the Brewster McCaugheys and the Askins. Although not technically our first cousins (I believe my Aunt Bernie defines it as "first cousins, once removed"?)  the Askin family has been and continues to be a massive part of my life.  At the head of that family was Seamus Askin, a man who was there at every Christmas, Easter and St. Patrick's Day from childhood to today.

Last Thursday, Seamus passed away.

Over the weekend, my wife and I were talking about how his death felt a little different because of who Seamus was. I could call him a "renaissance man" but I don't think that cliche does him justice. The man was an absolute one of a kind. I can't say I've encountered anyone like my Uncle Seamus and I probably never will.

He was an Irishman, who not only came to this country but also proudly served it in the Air Force.

He was a son, brother, husband, uncle, "granda" and friend.

He had the best head of hair I've ever seen, man or woman; I don't think I ever saw one piece out of place. I started to believe that's what it looked like when he stepped out of the shower. He also had a little Dorian Gray in him. You could see a picture of Seamus Askin from 1975 and he would look the same way 10, 20 or 30 years later.

He was the perfect best friend for my dad in part because of their love of projects both large and small. I came home to Stewart Manor once and found them loading trees onto a truck. Once it was packed, they drove it out to our house in Montauk and spent the next day planting them all.

Both men were over 70 years old at the time.

Another time, they picked up a piece of furniture from Macy's, drove it in to Forest Hills and carried it up the stairs to my fifth floor apartment.

Again, they were both past 70 years old.

He knew a little bit about everything. As a kid, my parents would tell me there wasn't a trivia question he couldn't answer. I tried my best to stump him, but never succeeded.

He was a great host. The Askin St. Patrick's Day party was one of legend and Seamus was always there with a song and a story. When my cousin Eamon flew over from Ireland in 2009, Seamus picked him up at JFK, brought him back to Locust Ave. and gave the man a beer.....or four.....or five. Eamon was in rare form for the rest of the night thanks to Seamus' hospitality.

He waged war on squirrels for crimes against his garden. I don't know what the statute of limitations is on kidnapping squirrels, so I'll go no further. I will add that I never thought that a squirrel would be able to find it's way back to Floral Park from Jamaica Bay.

These are sad days for the family and all who knew Seamus Askin, which judging by the turnout over the last three days, is a lot. While he is no longer with us, we won't soon forget him. I imagine that anyone who knew Seamus could put together a list like the one above.

Tonight I'll have a can of Budweiser in a koozie for Seamus and remember the times gone past and a life well lived.

Cheers.