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Larry Hurt

by Tom McTamney

Many of you know me, for those that don’t, my name is Tom McTamney, and for nearly 32 years, Larry Hurt was my other half, the one who completed me, my partner on our journey through life. And what a life it was. What I’m about to tell you are not the facts of Larry’s life. There were many facts – awards, honors, boards served on, speeches given – but you can read that in the newspaper obituary. What I want to tell you is not what Larry did, but who he was to me.

In his first epistle, St. John tells us: “God is love, and all who live in love, abide in God, and God abides in him.” Larry Hurt was most definitely a man who lived in love.

Larry had a deep love of LISTENING: Sounding board, facilitator, and synthesizer – Larry wanted to hear everything, and he had a gift for capturing everyone’s view and then synthesizing the conversation into a new view that incorporated everyone’s ideas. You all know what I mean, whether it was listening to his students to better understand them, listening to his choir members to achieve a better sound, or listening on committees to produce a better outcome, Larry was the one you wanted when no one else could make sense out of chaos. He was asked to serve on the selection committee for the Indiana State Teacher of the Year for the past decade because he always knew just the right question to ask to get to the heart of who a person was and not just what he or she had achieved. I am convinced that Larry was asked to serve on so many boards, committees, and advisory councils, not because of the knowledge he could bring (although he did that too!) but because he could listen to discussion, understand what was being brought to the table, and poof…a new idea would form and a new project would be hatched that no one had thought of before.

Larry had a deep love of LEADING BY SERVING: Larry could meet people wherever they were and give them what they needed in a way they could hear. He had many awards over the years that proved that, but it was never the awards that drove him, it was the need to fix things. If something was wrong in my life, whether at work or with my family or friends, Larry was always hurting right along with me and always wanted to make things better. This isn’t to say that wanted to change people. No, what he wanted was to change what kept people for being all of who they are or who they could become.

Many of you know that back in the late ‘70s, Larry went into the seminary to study for the priesthood. Could Larry have touched as many lives as a priest? Perhaps, but I know my life would not have been as rich, nor would the lives any of those people sitting in the choir chairs, nor the lives of the thousands of students who were touched by Larry’s magic. But it is clear by the vocation and avocation that he did choose, that Larry wasn’t in it for the money and that service was his life’s calling. Father Mike said recently, “Not once since Larry’s been music director here have I had to worry about music. Larry took so much off my plate.” And he did it in a quiet, almost invisible way.

Larry had a deep love of the BEST: Larry was on A Search for THE Best of everything. And when he discovered it, he took no prisoners – he loudly proclaimed this is THE Best…Musical (The Light in the Piazza, by the way); THE Best Hotel Chain (any one of the Kimpton hotels); THE Best cruise line (oh that would be Cunard!); or THE Best performance by the choir (that would be Father Mike’s 40^th anniversary of ordination last month!). He also wanted perfection in others. Whether it was telling the choir for the hundredth time to round out a vowel or lose the Hoosier ‘r’, or telling a student that a painting wasn’t finished when the student wanted to quit, because Larry knew the student had much more in him, Larry could be a slave driver. An example: When we lead music here at St. Chris, the cantors will rehearse for about a half hour before Mass. We do it right from the music space. This gives us a chance to warm up and the assembly to be able to hear ahead of time what music we will be doing. One Sunday years ago, in the old church next door, I was singing with Madeline Owens and Larry was accompanying us. We were obviously not prepared and kept screwing up words or the music and had to go back and start again several times. Finally, Larry stood up from the piano and said “We’re going down stairs” where we finished the rehearsal out of the glare of public scrutiny. It felt like we were being taken behind the woodshed… (Oh, by the way, during mass, we aced the piece!) Now just because Larry was on a quest for perfection doesn’t mean his work was perfect. Actually, far from it – Larry was famous for not proofreading things like cantor schedules. Copy/paste, copy/paste. Well, you knew what he meant. Larry spent his energy on higher-minded pursuits like THE Meaning of Life and let the small stuff sort itself out.

Larry had a deep love of RITUAL: Speaking of not wasting energy on small things, for all Larry’s desire to seek the new, he also knew when to rely on the familiar. From the mundane – gee, let’s see, we’re dining at Applebee’s? He’ll have a glass of the cheap Chardonnay, a side Caesar salad, and the bar-b-q bacon chicken sandwich with no bun and no bar-b-q sauce and don’t leave off “the garden”! And a baked potato instead of fries, with butter AND sour cream. Oh, and did I say he wanted ICED TEA! And do you have any Sweet-n-low? - to the transcendent – Larry adored the quiet grooves the liturgy made in people’s hearts and souls, and he resisted the changes in language about to be imposed by the church right now because he knew and understood that ritual and sameness were far more important to full participation in prayer than the subtle translation of a word here or there.

Larry was a keeper of the home fires; however you defined “home.” Rites of passage? He loved them, and photographed them, and reminded you of them often. And those rites and rituals didn’t have to be recognized by Emily Post or the greeting card industry. Larry was adept at creating new traditions. About 10 or 12 years ago, a little stuff moose entered our lives. Larry fell head over heels in love with Mr. Moose and entire stories were created around him. He slept with us, he traveled with us, he made our lives full and fun; but don’t ever try to change the rituals built up around Mr. Moose. That would break the magic.

Larry had a deep love of PLAY: And play to Larry meant everything from posing as though he was sinking next to the poster for the Broadway production of Titanic, to riding on Mr. Toad’s wild ride at Walt Disney World, to making horrible puns. Everyone knew of Larry’s puns. His students, his family, his friends, no one was spared! Sometimes though, his puns got him into trouble. Larry liked to tell this story about one day in drawing class. For those who have seen his classroom, you know that just about anything can end up in one of his still-lifes. This particular year, there was a Miss Piggy puppet in the still-life. One day a student asked if she could move Miss Piggy to a different location to draw her. Larry, without dropping a beat (or thinking for that matter about what he was about to say) said “sure you can PORK her anywhere you like.” The room became very quiet, all eyes went on Larry, he turned beat red from the top of his bald head to the tip of his toes, and the student said: “Mr. Hurt, I think that’s sexual harassment!”

You know a lot about Larry’s positive influence as an educator, but he could be a terrible influence, too. When one of his nieces was about 5 she was part of a dance recital at Marian College. It was – well, you’ve probably been to a 5-year-old relative’s dance recital. Thankfully, Larry’s niece was not in the tap number done to Puttin’ on the Ritz. The girls got to a strategic place in the number, their little canes went “tap, tap” – and somewhere in the vicinity of Larry Hurt, sotto voce, was “PuttinontheRitz.” Larry’s nephews – and everyone remotely within hearing – were suddenly transported to the Mel Brooks movie Young Frankenstein and started laughing uncontrollably. Irving Berlin rolled over in his grave. Sorry girls!

Larry had a deep love of EMBELLISHMENT: When I was first getting to know the Hurt clan, I was amazed at how much more interesting their lives and trips and adventures were than my own family’s. I used to think I lived an incredibly boring childhood. We did many of the same kinds of vacations; we had similar experiences with having our fathers get transferred to new places and having to move; we had similar serious illnesses as children. But his experiences seem much more interesting than mine. Finally after 10-15 years, I started to realize that I was in some of the stories that were being told and you know what, things didn’t happen at all like the way they were told. The difference was that the Hurts were story tellers and we were not; and the way the stories got more and more embellished was that they were told over and over again. And this ability to tell stories is what made our lives together so rich.

Every year for Christmas, Larry and I gave his parents a weekend trip to St. Meinrad Archabbey in Southern Indiana. We all had our stories around it. Larry and I met there, George and Helen often traveled there with friends. We all found peace in just being there. But on our annual trip down, it wouldn’t be the same if Helen didn’t start the trip with: “Tom, did I ever tell you the story about when Larry was a little boy…” And we were off. Usually I would say: “Yes Helen, I’ve heard that story!” and she would say, “Well that’s too bad, you’re going to hear it again because MY SON is in it!”

Larry had a deep love of MULTITASKING: Not that he would have called it that. When you were with Larry, it was as though you were the only person on earth. You had his full attention – and yet, he was so keenly aware of the world around him that he couldn’t help channeling Doug the Dog in the movie ‘Up’. “Yes, Oprah and Hillary Clinton and Daniel Pink and Malcolm Gladwell would make an ideal guest list for a dinner party – SQUIRREL! “ “Have you heard the new Anonymous 4 album? Let me just play this track for you…oh, here’s the new Eddie Izzard video – ‘ciao’ – hey, you have to see this new iPhone app that tells you what Leonardo would have read first in The New York Times – SQUIRREL!” How could you blame him? Larry drew vibrant, exciting, visionary minds and hearts to him and they talked about everything – sometimes all at once.

Larry had a deep love of HUMILITY: As many accolades as Larry garnered, no worldly recognition he received was ever about public acknowledgement. Larry was simply, purely, ambitious to become everything a human could become. He wanted to see the beauty of the world, hear the music of the world, know how people learned and lived and loved. No matter how many times he was asked to speak, write, or participate in something, he could never seem to grasp the he was good enough to do it and was amazed that people would want him. He always underestimated his talents and gifts. I like to believe that that is why I was sent into his life. I took this natural introvert (YES, Larry was an introvert) and tried to help him see that he had so much to give. He used to say how he admired how assertive I was and how I was able to get things done. Over the years, our roles changed and he became the assertive one and I was happy to let him take the lead, because when Larry got started on something, he never gave up until it was accomplished.

Larry had a deep love of SELF-IMPROVEMENT: Larry was constitutionally unable to pass by a bookstore without going in. He had a compulsion to learn about everything and everyone. Over the years, he got braver about contacting his heroes, from Stephen Sondheim to Daniel Pink. When Pink’s book A Whole New Mind came out, Larry bought it, devoured it, and saw the potential for education in it. He saw an email address on the jacket cover and contacted Dan. Larry told him that he was using his book in his department at Ben Davis for his teachers to study. Would Dan be interested in joining in on the discussion by teleconference? Pink was thrilled to do it. The discussion took place, Larry’s teachers learned from it, Larry learned from it, and Pink apparently learned so much from it that he went on to update a later addition with implications on how his book could apply to education. If you look up “overachiever,” in the dictionary, you’ll find Larry’s photo. But, again, his was not learning for its own sake but learning because – well, because he could. His love of learning was contagious. I can’t tell you how much I have learned about art, education, theology, liturgy, and many other subjects just by being around Larry. I think I should receive at least a Masters degree from Hurt University for all that I have learned from Larry. Part of learning is accepting and even embracing the contradictions in your own personality, and that was Larry, too. He was an early adopter of technology who balance his checkbook with a pencil. He was an extrovert (OK, so maybe he was a bit of an extrovert) who loved to read quietly on our screened-in porch. He was an advocate for generations of children who had none of his own. He was a deeply sensual man who was also deeply spiritual.

Larry had a deep love of HOSPITALITY: Larry and I built our current house with entertaining in mind. Every year we host a party at Christmas time. Each year the numbers have grown to the point that at the peak of the evening, people fill every room. This made Larry happier than anything I know. Larry was so very happy to greet the people he loved from every generation, every circle, and every background. In this way, Larry fulfilled one of the core values of his Christian faith: He gathered people to him, fed their bodies, and fed their minds. He was there when they needed him – and sometimes even when they didn’t know they needed him. Larry quietly lived exactly what he believed. There was never any need for him to proselytize – you just had to be around him to know that he lived in God’s love, and reflected it back to all who came to stand next to him.

Larry Hurt was, in Plato’s words, my “split apart,” and I got to see the authentic man of faith that Larry was day in and day out. I had a deep love of Larry, and you are here because you did, too.

SUMMATION:

I’ve spent the last few days collecting stories about Larry, and as I collected these stories, I discovered that you knew this Larry, too. The outpouring of notes, voicemails, phone calls, emails, and Facebook postings has been rich evidence of the scope of The Force That Was Larry. I’d like to read you two excerpts that sum up this celebration of what we’ll carry in our hearts.

An email I received from Kim Twa, a former student of Larry exemplifies much of what others are saying about him:

“I entered Larry's classroom a shy and insecure sophomore, but left it two years later confident and self-assured...ready to pursue an art degree. He brought me out of my shell and instilled confidence in me in ways that no one else ever did. I've considered him a mentor and friend ever since graduation; I've called upon him several times for references and recommendations for job opportunities and graduate study. He always was willing to help me and cheer me on. I felt as though I could accomplish anything with him on my side.

I know I am one of hundreds of students whom he affected in this way; indeed, he touched a countless number of lives at BD and St. Chris. I hope you are able to find some comfort in the fact that he will remain in the hearts of so many -- those he taught, inspired, worked alongside, and loved. The outpouring of love for Larry that I've seen on FB has been wonderful. Everyone considers it a privilege to have known him. He's a rare gem that's impossible to replace.”

Jamie Wyman, Ben Davis Class of '98, wrote on her blog:

A friend of mine works at the Arizona Renaissance Festival and often talks about some of the people that perform there. A few in particular he says have an Aura of Awesomeness. Yes, they are good performers, funny people, but it's deeper than that. Just by standing next to this person, he says, you feel like you can be a better person.

I've known people like that. Some of my own friends and family have this quality, too. You may have experienced it, but the effect can be so subtle that you may miss it. There are no blaring trumpets or beams of white light, no choirs singing praises. The moments can be fleeting and usually, I don't notice them until after they've passed.

What exactly is this elusive THING I'm talking about?

In my experience, an encounter with the Aura of Awesomeness occurs when you're near one of these people. You could be sitting in their class, their audience or you could be directly interacting with them in some way, but the outcome is usually the same. These people shine with goodness. Not saying they're saints, but there is some THING about them that exudes charisma, warmth and humility. Just by being near this person, I feel better about myself. Some of that light shines on me and I see myself (and those around me) for all their goodness, all their beautiful humanity and all that they have the potential to be. I see the good in myself and want to be a better person.

These people just make you feel GOOD by being around them.

This morning, I found out that Mr. Larry Hurt had passed away. I never had a class with Mr. Hurt. I think I had ONE day in homeroom with him or something. But he was a cornerstone of that school. Even though I didn't sit in art class with him, I knew him and had several friends who had been touched by him. I could sit here and tell you how many "Best Teacher" awards he won, I could tell you that he was active in his church...but instead, I have to tell you that this man had a light that shone brightly.

On one hand, I'm sad to see that fire go out.

But this morning, watching Facebook statuses light up with his name, messages of love for him, I feel that his life has not been snuffed out. It is being passed candle to candle. Some of his Aura of Awesomeness remains and from Boston to Phoenix to LA to Indy... people are remembering him now and all the good he did just by being Mr. Hurt.

Shine on.

And finally, I must quote from one of Larry’s favorite people, one who shared a birthday with Larry and who shared a great philosophy of life. Eleanor Roosevelt wrote: “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” Go out and dream, and let Larry help you concur the future with love.