A Truly Lovely Evening

Thursday, June 2

A Truly Lovely Evening

My dear friend Harry Wright was feted this evening; he was being honored upon his retirement from the faculty of the Medical College of the University of South Carolina where he had been for over three decades in the Department of Neuropsychiatry and Behavioral Science and as Director of Infant and Pre-school Programs. 

The event was held at the Columbia Museum of Art, which has muchly changed since I trudged through its dreariness 40 some odd years ago.  Today it is open and airy and spacious, and a simply marvelous location to honor Harry.

I haven’t lived in Columbia for going on 45 years; I skidaddled as soon as I graduated from Carolina (THE Carolina—not that fake one up north). A few years ago, I saw photos of my 40^th high school reunion and didn’t recognize a soul.  So, I certainly didn’t expect to run into someone from my deep, distant past.  And I would not have recognized him athough he’s still as handsome as ever, but, lo and behold, I saw the nametag with Louis James on it and my eyes looked up and up (Louis is still tall), and sure enough, there he was. 

And right next to him was Sammy Backman.  I didn’t know Sammy in college.  He was Harry’s freshman roommate.  Sammy told me he’d gotten the card that said his roommate was from York and Sammy assumed it was a misprint and his roomie was really from New York.  Sammy hailed from Charleston, SC, a good 200 miles south of York, SC.  Upon meeting, they cleared that up and have remained friends every since.

The University of South Carolina admitted its first black students in 1963.  Harry, Sammy, and Louis came in 1966.  South Carolina public schools were absolutely segregated, more than 20 years after Brown v. Board of Education.  Until my senior year of high school, 1967, I had never sat in a public school classroom with a black student.  That year, one brave young man joined my senior class and one brave young woman joined the junior class.  That young man attended an after-graduation-party at the house of my best friend, where I spent the night.  The next morning, her mother woke us up to tell us that his presence had been inappropriate.

Such was the mindset of many of the white students at the University of South Carolina, the ethos that daily confronted Harry and Sammy and Louis and many others.

Both Harry and Louis stand over 6 feet tall.  At Carolina during those turbulent days, days sometimes tinged with violence, those days of the antiwar movement and the women’s movement and the civil rights movement, Harry was the quiet voice of sweet reason, Louis the pounding thud of intense reason.  Carolina was fortunate to have Harry and Louis and Sammy.

The gala retirement party was bittersweet, not because we’re growing older, but because Harry’s health precludes him from continuing fully to participate in and contribute to the issues to which he’s devoted his professional life, particulary the care of children 0 – 3, and, especially, autism spectrum disorders.

I sometimes cannot believe my good fortune in having the friends I've had.