Hamon Library Dedication Speech
Given by Brian Olson on March 10, 2006, at Beit Haverim (South Metro Jewish Congregation) in West Linn
Shabbat Shalom.
As I was getting ready for this evening I remembered how Andy used to help me, on those rare occasions, when I had to speak to a group. I would run my speech by him and he would say, “No, change this. No, change that. You’re making it too personal. This is for business.” How ironic that he would be the reason I am speaking tonight and it is personal.
I apologize for having to use notes, but I promise you, once the xanex kicks in, it won’t be so bad. So. If you’ve all taken your xanex, I can begin.
Shalom Rav
Most of you here this evening remember Andy 3 ½ years ago on Rosh Hashana when he sang Shalom Rav. We were all moved when his incredible voice filled this room. What you don’t know, what no one knows, is the life changing significance of that moment in Andy’s life. So I’m going to tell that story now.
When I met Andy in 1983, he was performing in a club downtown 5 nights a week and attending classes at PCC 3 days a week. Andy was studying psychology. And creative writing…Scary thought those two together. Isn’t it?
I learned early that Andy had shpilkes. He was the single most restless person I have ever met. He continued his classes for a while, getting superior grades. And then, bored, looked to other things to occupy his mind. His entire life pretty much followed that pattern. Singing for years for a living, he got bored. Moving on to the hospitality industry, why not, he had spent years singing in hotel lounges. But then the shpilkes kicked in and he went back to singing.
In 1985, Andy had a mid-life crisis. So many things came down on him at one time. His health, horrible guilt from having left his wife Gloria, the increasing pressure he put on himself to do something bigger with his talent, his yearning to understand exactly what G-d is, and of course, me. Were we really right for each other? We were so very different and really had little in common.
Andy set out on what I called his “walk-about”. For what was planned to be a 6-month period. He traveled the country in search of himself. It was a rough time for me I can assure you. I didn’t know whether he would ever come back or even my own place in our relationship. But a wise friend said, “Let him go. If you are meant to be together, he will come back.” Andy played tourist and went to places he had always wanted to go. He ultimately ended up in Philadelphia where he grew up and spent most of his time there. For a while he went down south. He visited Gloria, who was living in Atlanta at the time.
His search for self-truth took him to the Edgar Cayce Institute. I found a couple of letters after he died, that he had written to me during this time. I had forgotten just how much he was suffering. They were painful to read but knowing what I know now, his search for his truth wasn’t in vain.
Within 3 months Andy pleaded to come home. I flew to the east coast and we spent a week with his extended family and we drove home.
His biggest concern upon arriving home was putting together some security for his retirement. As an entertainer, he didn’t exactly have a plan through his employment. And, Uncle Sam decided after an audit, that he needed Andy’s two IRA’s more than he did.
Through networking with friends, he ultimately found his job up at OHSU. He had a plan in place for retirement and new stimulation for his brain. He continued singing in nightclubs for a few years while he was working on the “hill”, but ultimately, he quit singing completely.
I believe an artistic mind needs an outlet for expression. Without it, the spirit shrivels and dies. Andy was no exception to this. When he quit singing it was as if life itself was leaving him. It was about two years later that he was invited to audition for the Portland Opera Chorus. Singing opera requires a very different technique than the Jazz, Broadway and Standards he had spent most of his life singing. He immediately found a voice teacher and began to relearn his singing technique, changing to a classical style. It paid off and he began singing opera within a year.
What a change. It was as if his spirit woke up again. Andy performed in many operas over the next 6 ½ years. Sometimes just as a member of the chorus, sometimes he got a small, incredibly small, part. I remember the chorus master told him once that he had to hold back. His voice was distinct and could be heard above the other chorus members as it filled the Keller Auditorium. Sometimes, even after that, sitting in a full house you could pick out his voice.
Andy wanted to build a list of small roles that he could perform and then audition around the country. Unfortunately, his health began to deteriorate rapidly and he found he didn’t have the stamina anymore, even for small chorus parts.
HEALTH
In the early days as our relationship became serious, Andy wanted me to be prepared should something happen to him. He was always more concerned for others than himself and he explained his heart condition. We had met approximately two years after his second heart attack. It was at that time that he realized he could continue to live a lie and most likely die young from the stress or he could make choices that would ultimately bring him the happiness in life he longed for. And so, even before he was released from the hospital, he came out to his wife of 19 years. While he still loved her and felt obligations to her and their family, he had to make the changes that would bring him the life he was entitled to.
I don’t know why it was so hard for him to “come out”. Its not like he was the first one in his family to do so. His brother Mal and his partner Bill have been together 45 years now. I asked Andy on several occasions why he made it so difficult, but he said he didn’t know. Maybe it was the era he grew up in; maybe so much had been expected of him as a talented kid that he felt there were certain standards he had to live up to. I don’t know. But for Andy, it seemed he had to do it the hard way.
Adding to his health problems, a few years later he was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. It was controlled pretty much with diet and exercise and yet another pill in his daily regiment. For a time, he didn’t even need the pill. Then as his arteries clogged beyond the help of drugs, heart surgery was his only option. With the trauma to his system from this surgery, he became insulin dependent.
Depression, poor diet, and the failure of one of the grafts to his heart only exasperated his health problems. Depression was as serious a problem for Andy as any physical malady he had. He would go through long bouts of it. And those bouts were always worse when he wasn’t singing.
In 1993, he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. The heart failure was the least of his worries as the diabetes was completely out of control. Just walking caused the bones in his feet to break. And walking was exactly what he needed to do for his heart. He spent the last years of his life in a great deal of pain. But Andy had his pride and carried himself well. While it was obvious he was suffering, few, if any, realized just how bad off he was.
ANDY AS A JEW
As hard as it was for Andy to come out as a gay man, it seemed it was even harder for him to “come out” as a Jew. Raised cultural and not religious, he was unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the ritual of the tradition. Add to that his father’s own rejection of synagogue life and his desire to “fit in” with his new American life. They even celebrated Christmas complete with a tree and all the commercial trappings. There were family gatherings for the Jewish Holidays. Pesach always included a feast, but it was more about the family being together than the story of the Exodus.
I asked Andy once if he had ever seen any of the newsreels of the holocaust when he went to the movies as a child. Of course he had, but he nothing to say about them. “It was upsetting, but no one would talk about it”, is all he said. I cant help but think this would have left a lasting, if not unhealthy, impression, one that would surely affect him as an adult. That became obvious when we attended a community wide Yom Hashoa service. It was very emotional for him and I think it was filled with a lot of healing that he so desperately needed.
We went to the Anne Frank exhibit when it was here in Portland. In which, every group that fell victim to Hitler’s atrocities was addressed, save one, homosexuals. Andy was outraged. Why weren’t they telling the whole story? He sought out an official at the exhibit and asked why the omission. This woman explained that she didn’t know but thought that with the current political climate in Oregon, namely the anti-gay initiative on the ballot, it would have been to controversial. Andy made it very clear, that is exactly WHY it should have been included. I don’t think I had ever been more proud of him than at that moment.
One day, our friend Judy Cohen came to see Andy. “Andy” she said, “I am the chair of a fund raising committee at Shaarie Torah.” “Would you be interested in doing a concert to help us?”
Andy did that concert. He was so nervous. Not the usual stage fright before a performance, no. It was a Jewish audience and he so wanted to fit in. That evening there were cheers, tears and a standing ovation. They didn’t like him they loved him. Andy was so afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing that night that he couldn’t relax and enjoy it to its fullest. But his Jewish Soul stirred that evening and he felt a strong pull. Judy had the foresight to record the event and that recording is one of my most precious possessions.
It was a decade before Andy went back into a synagogue.
Beth had asked her dad several times to attend services with her at Beth Israel. And Andy, being Andy, procrastinated until one day he asked me would I mind. That was how he was. He always wanted my ok to do things, no, not my permission, but my support. “Please, please Andy. Go!” I said. “You need to.” You see, after so many years, I knew Andy’s issues with G-d. His fears. His doubts. His longing.
He went, and let me tell you, it was not what he expected. He was met with open arms, as an individual, as a worthy soul, as gay man, as a Jew. Andy was off and running and there was no stopping him.
He attended services and Torah study on a regular basis. As his depression began to take a back seat he was able to volunteer, limited by his health of course, but volunteer non-the-less. He volunteered at Temple and in the Jewish community.
Andy never felt more alive, nor had I ever seen him with a better attitude. I was amazed at the transformation in him.
But there was still something missing. Something he needed to be truly alive inside. His journey, which had now become our journey, brought us here to South Metro. Welcomed, embraced and loved like never before we became members. Andy went to work on the Adult Ed committee. He loved that so much. But even more than that, he joined the SMJC choir. At last, after so many months of not being able to use his voice, it once again sang out. He was alive again. And we were home.
BOOKS
Books, Books, Books and even more books. As we are the People of the Book, Andy was the person of the books. In his childhood he fell in love with reading. He was taught at a young age to appreciate the whole book, not just the writing. The cover and binding, the paper and print, all were important to him. He loathed cheaply produced books and would put down a good read to find a better copy of it.
When I met Andy, he had 3 bookshelves. As we built our lives together, and he built his library, more and more bookshelves appeared in our home. 3 became 6. 6 became 9. Ultimately there were 15 bookcases of various sizes and design. Bookshelves in the living room, bookshelves in the hall, the bedroom, the kitchen and yes, even the bathroom. He wanted more. But I had to say no. Well not “no” exactly. I gave him the choice, furniture to sit on, or bookshelves. We just didn’t have any more room. He made his choice, then I said no.
Powells Book store was Andy’s amusement park. If he wasn’t at home when I got off work, chances are he would be any minute…. with a stack of books.
Andy collected according to interest. When he was studying psychology, it was self help books. He loved to cook, so cookbooks were always a favorite. And more cook books. And more. He had a passion for history, so there were many history books. Biographies were also a favorite. And music. When he began singing opera, well, books on opera as well as librettos.
Andy joined several book clubs. Which meant I joined several book clubs. You see, if I joined, he got 12 free books. I belonged to many a book club in my day and I never had to mail a single card back. Then came the Internet, and Andy, being born with certain “emailiable” rights, went on line. And it was a whole new adventure. I would come home from work and find package after package sitting by the front door. Even after his death, his library continued to grow.
Traveling with Andy was always a chore. While I was online booking flights and hotels, locating interesting things to see, he was online searching for bookstores in the cities we would visit. “Andy, come look at this,” I would say, “this hotel has suites with marble bathrooms and a fireplace!” “Brian, come look at this,” he would say, “This bookstore has a section devoted to opera singer’s mistresses and its only 3 blocks from the hotel!” He had to have books to put in the suitcase to read when we got there and minimum of four more to put in his carry-on. His would get shpilkes so he needed to have a variety to read on the plane.
And the weight of the luggage! He couldn’t carry them himself. So I did. I do wish he had collected a few books on chiropractic. To make matters worse for me, he bought even more books when we got to our destination. “Andy,” I would say, “You can get that at home.” “But it’s not from here!” he would say. “But I have to carry it!” I said.
As books came in, books went out. He would select the finest. The “good reads” and take the rest to Powell’s or donate them. In our early years together, Andy would speak often of his dream to one day own his own bookstore. It would be a bookstore where each and every book was carefully selected for a discriminating clientele. Well, Andy being Andy put his dream aside to help me pursue mine.
As Andy began to truly live his Jewish life, so did his library.
7 BLESSINGS
It was suggested that I share some of the things I learned from Andy. So before I wrap this up, I would like to share a few of them, here now, are the Top Seven Jewish Blessings from Andy.
7 Mishpacha
Andy and his family were different from mine. Andy and his family rocked my little world. My family ran a business. My brother and I were “staff”. There was no time for family events or feasts or holiday gatherings. Don’t misunderstand me; I had a great childhood filled with opportunities most never got. And I didn’t miss then what I didn’t know existed. With Andy, it was all about family. Immediate. Extended. Friends. The world was Andy’s family.
The Hamon family from day one embraced me. I was welcomed in and patiently taught the value and importance of “kinship”. For that I have two beautiful daughters I love as if they were my own. Perhaps the most family “Gift” I received from Andy was being reunited with my brother. I don’t think either my brother or I knew why we weren’t closer. He had his life. I had mine, neither of us knowing any other way to be. With a gentle pushing from Andy, OK, not so gentle pushing, and a little pushing from my sister-in-law in Texas, my brother and I now have a wonderful relationship. And a new sense of family with each other we never knew growing up.
6 V’ez rat Sarah “The Matriarch”
You would expect the matriarch to fall under the category of mishpacha. But then you didn’t know Bette Cohen. 16 years older than her baby brother Andy, Bette was a tornado of love, energy and big wet kisses. Always dressed to the nines, hair to perfection, eye lashes that could comb a Shih-Tzu and always, always a smile. She never left her room until she met her very own demanding standards.
Except once.
Early one morning when she was visiting from Philadelphia, I went downstairs for my coffee, when I entered the kitchen; there were Andy and Bette. Bette hadn’t put her face on yet. Nor had she put on her “hair” or her eye lashes for that matter. She wasn’t even smiling. I looked at Andy and said, “Sheesh. Who’s the old lady?” Andy grimaced. Not Bette. Instantly her face lit up and she began laughing. She grabbed me by my cheeks and said, “Shaina punim, I love you” and planted a big wet one on my lips.
I was the po po po for her kenehere.
She was my Yiddish Momma.
5 Dayenu
Andy loved his holidays, none more than Pesach. Was it the food? Was it family and friends coming together? The music? Maybe it was because he got to read a good book. Of course all those of things came together for Andy at Pesach. For me, it was at Pesach that I finally faced my own Mitzryim. Not the outside forces I’ve allowed to control my life, no, but my enslavement to my own neurosis that I allowed to grow out of control.
Had I only ever participated in one Seder, It would have been enough.
4 Nosh- “Babbets Feast“
My dad, the full-blooded Swede, liked his meals one way. COOKED. Well-done meat. Well-done potatoes. Well-done vegetables. Mushy actually. A very limited menu. That is what I grew up on. Imagine the “food culture” shock of living with someone who spent 20 years running food and beverage for a major hotel chain. It was through Andy that my pallet opened up. Meat cooked to perfection, not to rare, not to well done. Tender and juicy. Who knew it wasn’t supposed to be like shoe leather? Andy wasn’t afraid to try anything in the kitchen. He was as happy preparing a complete Chinese dinner for four, from scratch to Brunch for 75. His culinary abilities even convinced my dad to try, and like, new and different foods.
I remember the first time he made his homemade cheesecake. It looked so strange. I had never seen anything like it. He scooped up a fork full and said open your mouth. I did. It was sweet. It was tart. It was smooth and creamy. And it had a crispy texture too. I swirled it around my mouth. Taking it all in, I looked at Andy and said that word he ultimately learned to love. I said…”EEEWW!”
I’m still not much of a cook, but I can make a mean onion kugle.
3 Elo-hei Elavil.
I debated on what to call this one. I was thinking Ha Aish ha Hashish might me good but I decided against it. I know Elavil and Hashish are not Hebrew words. But you have to admit….they’re funny. And that’s the whole point. We have drugs to treat and heal all manner of illness, from the body to the mind. But there are no drugs to heal the spirit. Only prayer can do that, and to me, the most joyous form of prayer is laughter. And Andy’s sense of humor was at its best when a soul was in need.
We were at Good Sam Hospital. Andy was on a gurney being led down a corridor for open-heart surgery. Sari held one hand on one side of the gurney; I held the other hand on the other side. Silence, save for the occasional squeak of the orderly’s shoes on the floor. We reached the doors where we had say our good-byes. Andy spoke, his voice slightly slurred from the sedative. He said, “Where’s the music?” I said, “what?” He repeated, “Where’s the music?” I asked him what he was talking about. He said, “This is a very dramatic scene. There ought to be music”. The laughter he provided from that comment saw us through the entire ordeal.
Even at the end of his life humor was there for him. After dinner he read for a while and then asked me to help him upstairs. As I reached to help him stand, he said, “If only I wasn’t so weak”. He said it. He knew he said it and before he even finished he started laughing. I knew my line. Right on cue, and in my best Bette Davis voice I said …”But ‘chah arh, Andy, yah arh!”
We laughed till our sides hurt. And we spent the next half hour coming up with ideas for a “Baby Jane” Maghila reading.
I got Andy upstairs, took care of the dog and read for a while. When I went up to bed a few hours later, Andy was gone. In the pain and confusion of the next few hours and days I forgot about that laughter. I wanted to forget. I remember it now though. What a gift that we should spend those last moments together in sheer joy and laughter. (Even if it was at the expense of Bette Davis and Joan Crawford)
2 Al Shlosha-
Or as I like to call it, “Dr. Shlosha”. Al is my therapist. Al sh’lo-sha d’va-rim ha-o-lam o-meid. “The world depends on three things”. Al ha-Torah “On Torah” v’al ha-a-vo-da “service” v’al g’mi-lut cha-sa-dim. “and loving deeds”
This is a three part blessing. Loving deeds. Andy preferred to go without when he knew that by doing so someone else would have. He would never ignore a street person’s request for money or for that matter any visitor at our door collecting for whatever charity or cause. The single biggest act of loving kindness that I personally experienced occurred two months after we met. I got the call that my mother was sick. It was life threatening and I needed to get to Denver. I was young, employed only part time and totally and fiscally irresponsible. Unless I walked, I wasn’t going. Andy didn’t hesitate. He picked up the phone, called United and made a reservation for me putting it on his credit card. I told him I couldn’t pay him back and he said he didn’t expect me to. “Just go be with your family, that’s all I need”. Beth was sitting there at the table unfazed when this took place. She knew her dad. She knew this was his way.
Service. Also translated as “worship”. It was during a very difficult time in my life when I said to Andy on a Friday afternoon, “Can I go with you tonight?” You see, there is a part of my family that doesn’t accept me. I was treated like a distant cousin at my own father’s funeral only a month earlier. I felt so dirty inside and couldn’t get rid of it. Andy took my hand and brought me to a Shabbat service and for the first time in my life, I felt “clean”. That was the day my own Jewish Soul woke up.
Torah. If you could have seen the look on Andy’s face the first time he saw me carry Torah, clutching it to me like a precious child, words would not be necessary. On that day, in that single tear rolling down his cheek, I saw the face of G-d. That image holds me though everything. When I take my last breath, when I close my eyes for the last time that is the image I want to see.
1 Ma ariv
There is only one sunset to a day. It can be stunning, with clouds and golden sunlight streaming through. It can be calm and sedate and simply fade to darkness. It can be dramatic, with colors man can never recreate on canvas, ablaze with pinks, azure, and orange swirling into white clouds. So to, does each of us have but one sunset in our lives. No matter how dark, no matter how long and cold the darkness may seem, there is always a sunrise. And with the sunrise comes the promise that while this day will be different than yesterday, it will be no less beautiful. Golel or mipne choshech, v’choshech mipne or. “Light fades into darkness, and dark becomes light.”
Shalom Rav Conclusion
On Rosh Hashana, 3 ½ years ago, Andy sat at that piano, and in a fusion of Jazz, Broadway and Operatic styles sang the prayer Shalom rav. “Grant a full and lasting peace to Your people Israel.” And for the first time, he knew he was included in that prayer. It all came together for him, his struggle though life, his yearning to know G-d. The shpilkes was gone, Andy found his Shalom. That is what he told me in the car on the way home.
It’s been 2 ½ years since the words “Hamon Library” were first spoken, 2 ½ years of starts and fits, potholes and bridges out. At times I thought it would never happen. But this evening it all comes together. How perfect that it should have been this way, the very mirror of Andy’s life.
On behalf of Sari and Beth, and their families, I would like to thank you all for this incredible honor to Andy and tribute to his legacy. I would like to personally thank Rabbi Larry, Steve Bilow, and especially Elizabeth Katz, her Partner LeeAnn and our wonderful Library Committee for all their hard work and support. It is because of you that Andy’s dream of having his own bookstore has finally come to pass in a way he could have never imagined.
I am forever grateful. Forever humbled.
Shabbat Shalom.
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Rabbinical Leadership:
Rabbi Alan Berg
Email: rabbiberg@beithav.org
Mailing Address:
PO Box 311
Lake Oswego, OR 97034
Office:
530 4th St.
Lake Oswego, OR 97034
Ph: (503) 344-4839
Fax: (503) 344-4870
Email: office@beithav.org
Worship &
Sunday Religious School:
LO United Church of Christ
1111 Country Club Rd
Lake Oswego, OR 97034
Directions
Founding Rabbi &
Rabbi Emeritus:
Rabbi Larry Halpern
 Member of the Union for Reform Judaism
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