[Milton-L] Al Labriola

[Louise Simons]

Deep thanks to all the Milton specialists who have so eloquently expressed my own grateful feelings about Al Labriola. He gave me every chance, he had faith in me. As many have already mentioned, he had the gift of intimacy, and he shared his life with us. He treasured Regina and was proud of her dedication to their family and also to her difficult job as principal of a needy school that she had been specifically and urgently asked to head. Al was happy in his profession. He easily told self-deprecating stories, even as he held positions of great trust and was a scholar of high repute. He calmed my chronic worries about his health. To my email that I hoped he was breathing well, on Wednesday at 10:22 he wrote of his Monday hospital discharge and plans for Friday travel home. He said, "My breathing seems expansive." Shortly, his life was over. It's painfully hard to realize he's gone.

Years ago Al Labriola and Ed Sichi invited me to attend my first Spencer luncheon with them. The night before, the Milton dinner had been sumptuous. The Spencer lunch was cafeteria style. We carried thin paper plates down the line, being served swill from large square metal heating troughs. We sat at long tables and ate carefully, using flimsy plastic knives, forks, and spoons. After the meal, the elderly women who had served carried around black plastic trash bags for us to toss our garbage into. Al's eyebrows were raised ironically as the women carried off the full bags. 

The Spencer speaker stood up. He made a virtue of the luncheon's informality and said pointedly, "At least we don't wear three-piece suits, the way they do at the Milton dinner." On one side of me, Ed's body gave a jolt. On my other side, Al, in his usual three-piece suit, stiffened. His face turned deep red. The speaker warmed to his topic. Working up a full head of steam, he began to weave from side to side, getting closer and closer to the two heavy candle holders and the lit candles. Finally, he managed to set himself on fire. Of course I was horrified, but at the same time, it was really hard to hold down my giggles and my amazement at the swift retribution.

When we left the luncheon and were walking away, Al turned to me and asked meaningfully, Since I had been at both the Milton dinner and the Spencer luncheon, how would I rate them in comparison to each other. His eyes twinkled. He imitated me carefully stowing my soggy paper plate, still laden with my uneaten lunch, in the garbage bag. Al was thinking primarily of the food because he and the treasurers, year after year, on a tight budget, planned such lovely banquets. I recalled the speeches, droning on and on as it seemed to a new Miltonist, and I thought that for after-meal entertainment, there truly was no comparison.

I loved Al, and I already miss him.

Louise