To my friends and former LS colleagues
I have just come home from tonight's "Life After LS" dinner. The trip back was very much colored by seeing you all tonight. You see.
On the way, I drove by the new school, as I had on my way to Maynard. But when I came to the school road this time, I turned in.
One of the last conversations that I shared tonight was with Hugh McGinnis and Patti Bowdoin, talking about the dramatic changes and disorientation wrought by the presence of the new building.
I confessed my angst to them about not having come to the gathering just before the old building was razed. It was a big piece of my life, in its familiarity and straightforward layout, its simplicity and simultaneous quirky variety. But of course, what really made it unique was the extraordinary group of human beings who peopled it every day in every capacity, and the intense and remarkable life we all shared there.
During the months of the new construction, whenever I drove by, I always had very mixed up feelings, vacillating between anger and regret on the one hand about the distasteful circumstances under which I left in 1990, and longing and affection on the other for the genuine joys and friendships I found during my 12 years there.
But until tonight, I never ventured onto the property.
It was imposing and disorienting at the same time, as I drove around for 15 minutes and gawked at the sheer size and modern glamour of the physical plant, and tried at the same time to remember what was there before.
On the rest of the trip home, my mind raced. I am sure that the folks working and learning there today are happy and enthusiastic about what they have and in such impressive state-of-the-art surroundings. And I know that some who were there in my day still carry the LS "ethos" forward today Billy, Joe Pacenka, Jim Newton, the Plotts, Karen Fritsche, and others. But I want you to know how much I feel that what we all experienced at this place was thoroughly unique and irreplaceable, and how powerfully tonight reminded me of that. I feel again lucky and blessed to have worked at your sides, sad that it is past, but buoyed by the chance to renew acquaintances tonight and soon again, I hope.
The song famously says "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone." For many things I know that it's true. But for LS, I disagree. I think that a real part of what made it so special was that we recognized what we had then, while we were in the moment. And it drove us all.
As I left the school tonight, and though I am not superstitious or a believer in ghosts, I kept hoping somehow that the souls of people like Bob Wentworth, Frank Heys, Bill Rice, and Ginny Kirshner still hover around that gleaming new structure, giving it a measure of their glow even now. Though it may sound somewhat obvious to say it, without that love and spark that they and each of you brought every day to your work, it is just a building, however comfortable and up-to-date.
Thank you for tonight. Here's to life, and to another chance to share it!
Art Finstein, former music directer, at a staff reunion, 2006
