[Milton-L] Al Labriola

[Mulryan, John]

For over thirty-five years Al Labriola generously and enthusiastically
fostered my career in Milton scholarship. And over all that enormous
space of time, he never once said, "you owe me." So God be with you Al,
and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

-----Original Message-----
From: milton-l-bounces at lists.richmond.edu
[mailto:milton-l-bounces at lists.richmond.edu] On Behalf Of Louise Simons
Sent: Saturday, March 14, 2009 12:28 AM
To: milton-l at lists.richmond.edu
Subject: [Milton-L] Al Labriola


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





      
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