In the fall of 1990, when Darius Kuolys (then Minister of Education in the newly re-established republic of Lithuania) approached Jūrate Krokyte Stirbiene and Vaiva Vėbra Gust for their assistance, he envisioned that they would organize a few retired Lithuanian American educators to share their expertise with the teachers of Lithuania. Little did he know what he was about to ignite.
Jūrate, experienced in the field of special education, immediately turned her attention to work in that area. Vaiva took on the administrative task of establishing a grassroots organization, which included Americans from the United States and Canada, not all of them of Lithuanian heritage. Some, indeed, were retired educators while many were still practicing professionals. The inspired name, A.P.P.L.E.—the American Professional Partnership for Lithuanian Education—came from Vaiva‘s husband, Jim Gust. There was a lengthy equivalent name in Lithuanian, but it never caught on. Right from the beginning, the people of Lithuania did their best to pronounce A.P.P.L.E.
What exciting times those were, sitting around the dining room table in the Vėbra-Gust home, brainstorming, strategizing, working for a cause. We worked out ways to do fundraising. We established a newsletter to get our message out to the wider public. Deep down we knew that our efforts were important; we could make a difference in the education of the children of Lithuania and, therefore, in the future of the whole country.
Vaiva guided A.P.P.L.E. through the first eight years before assuming a position as Vice-minister of Education in Lithuania. Before she stepped down, Vaiva had the good sense to choose a capable successor, Emilija Sakadolskiene. In her turn, Emilija had the foresight to work out a process for insuring continued leadership for A.P.P.L.E. down to the present day with Barbara Henriques currently serving as president.
Over the years 28,000 teachers in Lithuania have attended A.P.P.L.E. courses. That is about 47%, almost half, of the teachers in Lithuania. Through our efforts fifty-nine teacher centers have been established throughout the country to support teachers all year long, not just when the A.P.P.L.E. summer seminars are running. A Lithuanian Scholars Fund was founded, and to date seventy-six teachers in Lithuania have been funded to do further research on topics that have been presented by A.P.P.L.E.
Those who have participated will readily tell you that being part of A.P.P.L.E. is a life-altering experience, and not just for the educators of Lithuania but for all of us involved in organizing and presenting to our colleagues in Lithuania as well. We all have very special memories of A.P.P.L.E. to share. We have become a family.
Although she took on other tasks over the years, Vaiva never really left us. When she served in the ministry or later as advisor to President Adamkus, Vaiva always kept contact with A.P.P.L.E. and shared with us her vision of what was important for Lithuanian education. In fact, when Vaiva went into remission after her first bout with breast cancer, she assumed the role of A.P.P.L.E. president again and organized the 2005 summer seminars. As recently as this past August, 2008, Vaiva attended the officers meeting to lend her support for the work of A.P.P.L.E.
I will be honest with you. It wasn‘t always easy working with Vaiva. She was demanding. Those of us who worked closely with her understood that she was passionate—one might even say driven—when it came to working for educational reform in Lithuania. Now that Vaiva is no longer with us, the A.P.P.L.E. family is exchanging condolenscences. As people write about Vaiva, they are using words like inspiring and guiding light. Luminary and visionary. We know that in a very real way Vaiva‘s guidance will always be with us.
The A.P.P.L.E. family mourns with the Vėbra Gust family, with Vaiva‘s husband Jim, and their wonderful children Aras, Liepa, Lokys, and Sirvydas.
Showing posts with label Hartford funeral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hartford funeral. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Jim's address to the mourners
[These are the notes I used in both Hartford and Vilnius. I strayed from them slightly. For example, in introducing me Elona said I had loved Vaiva for 31 years. I corrected her, saying that we had been married for 31 years, but I had loved her for 37 years.]
September 3, 1971. Brookline, Massachusetts.
Hi, I’m Jim. I see from your nametag that you are, um, how do you say that?
Vaiva.
Well, Vaiva, what did you do with your summer?
I was a counselor at Camp Neringa in Vermont for Lithuanian children.
It may not sound like much, but it didn’t take much. Those were the first words I exchanged when I met Vaiva, and within five minutes I was in love. Irrevocably. It was a marvelous partnership. It was everything I wanted. Vaiva was the answer to my prayer.
People have asked this week, how am I doing. Many have said that words just can’t describe the loss. But I think perhaps W.H. Auden came close, when he wrote this (note that I changed the gender for the occasion):
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
She was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
So, that is how I feel, that is how I am doing.
But that is not how life goes on. That is not how Vaiva responded to grief. Instead, she would redouble her efforts and charge forward.
The first a.p.p.l.e.-sponsored summer courses happened in 1991. That was the year Russian tanks were unleashed against Lithuanians holding hands at the television tower. Reflecting on the successes and failures of that year, Vaiva wrote:
With the creation of a.p.p.l.e. we’ve stepped out onto a tightrope. Sometimes everything that came before seems like a different life entirely. As a Lithuanian-American, I always felt lucky to have a strong sense of community and purpose. Yet everything is topsy turvy now. No longer must a feeling of obligation animate our decisions. Lithuania is free, and so are we. The choice of involvement, of commitment, is personal in a new sense. If we freely undertake creative work with and for Lithuania, then our choices must have consequences on two continents.
Vaiva accomplished so many things during her remarkable but abbreviated life. But her most important gift to us was this: through the example of her life, and through the obligations she imposed, she made each of us be the very best that we could be.
During her last weeks, Vaiva lost some of her lucidity, as the cancer entered her brain. She began to refer to dead people, notably her aunt and her mother, as if they were alive, as if they were nearby. After one such comment, I asked Vaiva if she knew where her mother was. She started to cry, and she said that močiute was in heaven, and Lijole was in heaven. Later she returned to referring to them calmly, as if they were nearby.
I like to believe that she felt their presence because they had come to escort her into her next life.
September 3, 1971. Brookline, Massachusetts.
Hi, I’m Jim. I see from your nametag that you are, um, how do you say that?
Vaiva.
Well, Vaiva, what did you do with your summer?
I was a counselor at Camp Neringa in Vermont for Lithuanian children.
It may not sound like much, but it didn’t take much. Those were the first words I exchanged when I met Vaiva, and within five minutes I was in love. Irrevocably. It was a marvelous partnership. It was everything I wanted. Vaiva was the answer to my prayer.
People have asked this week, how am I doing. Many have said that words just can’t describe the loss. But I think perhaps W.H. Auden came close, when he wrote this (note that I changed the gender for the occasion):
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
She was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
So, that is how I feel, that is how I am doing.
But that is not how life goes on. That is not how Vaiva responded to grief. Instead, she would redouble her efforts and charge forward.
The first a.p.p.l.e.-sponsored summer courses happened in 1991. That was the year Russian tanks were unleashed against Lithuanians holding hands at the television tower. Reflecting on the successes and failures of that year, Vaiva wrote:
With the creation of a.p.p.l.e. we’ve stepped out onto a tightrope. Sometimes everything that came before seems like a different life entirely. As a Lithuanian-American, I always felt lucky to have a strong sense of community and purpose. Yet everything is topsy turvy now. No longer must a feeling of obligation animate our decisions. Lithuania is free, and so are we. The choice of involvement, of commitment, is personal in a new sense. If we freely undertake creative work with and for Lithuania, then our choices must have consequences on two continents.
Vaiva accomplished so many things during her remarkable but abbreviated life. But her most important gift to us was this: through the example of her life, and through the obligations she imposed, she made each of us be the very best that we could be.
During her last weeks, Vaiva lost some of her lucidity, as the cancer entered her brain. She began to refer to dead people, notably her aunt and her mother, as if they were alive, as if they were nearby. After one such comment, I asked Vaiva if she knew where her mother was. She started to cry, and she said that močiute was in heaven, and Lijole was in heaven. Later she returned to referring to them calmly, as if they were nearby.
I like to believe that she felt their presence because they had come to escort her into her next life.
Hartford services
As noted below, we had 12 inches of snow overnight before the Hartford funeral service. I was up at 5:45 am to plow out the driveway, which was tricky because it was still quite dark. It was also slow because I had the bucket on the tractor instead of the snow blade, and swapping them is a two-person job. The blade pushes the snow, with the bucket one must lift and dump and lower, which requires more time and thought.
Much later, when I mentioned this problem to my family, my mother asked, “You didn’t realize that winter was coming?” Without missing a beat, I answered, “I was told there would be global warming.” (In truth, we left the bucket on to bring in felled wood for our wood stove.)
Anyway, dawn was breaking by 7, which is when the three photos posted below were taken. We were on our way by 7:45, but with the poor road conditions we missed our 8:30 target at the Dillon-Baxter funeral home by about 10 minutes.
Vaiva was dressed in her national costume, with the jewels she wore at our wedding.
Many more people had been able to get to the funeral home that morning. So greetings that might have been spread over couple hours the day before were condensed into just half an hour.
After the funeral director Gerry Baxter led us in the Lord’s Prayer, the casket was closed and we left for Holy Trinity. We were greeted there by the pall bearers and a group of attendants in national costume. A Lithuanian priest had been driven to Hartford from Boston [I need to get the names from Sigita to insert here].
The church was almost half full, surprising given the poor weather conditions. It was a very nice service, entirely in Lithuanian, so I didn’t understand anything. If anyone sends me a summary of the homily I will post it.
Afterwards the funeral director took Vaiva for shipping to Lithuania, and the rest of us retired to the hall in Holy Trinity’s basement. As noted below, Sigita had arranged for the Lithuanian women to provide a pot luck luncheon, and we had additional eulogies for Vaiva. I will post the thoughts that I shared momentarily.
My father, mother, brother Bob and sister Jolene had flown in from Minneapolis for the sad occasion. My other sister Karen had tried to be with us but a variety of factors interfered. The kids and I spent the rest of the afternoon with them at their hotel at Bradley airport.
As noted earlier, we flew to Lithuanian the next day, Sunday, after a neighbor helped pull our van out up our icy driveway. Vaiva was shipped to Lithuania on Monday.
Much later, when I mentioned this problem to my family, my mother asked, “You didn’t realize that winter was coming?” Without missing a beat, I answered, “I was told there would be global warming.” (In truth, we left the bucket on to bring in felled wood for our wood stove.)
Anyway, dawn was breaking by 7, which is when the three photos posted below were taken. We were on our way by 7:45, but with the poor road conditions we missed our 8:30 target at the Dillon-Baxter funeral home by about 10 minutes.
Vaiva was dressed in her national costume, with the jewels she wore at our wedding.
Many more people had been able to get to the funeral home that morning. So greetings that might have been spread over couple hours the day before were condensed into just half an hour.
After the funeral director Gerry Baxter led us in the Lord’s Prayer, the casket was closed and we left for Holy Trinity. We were greeted there by the pall bearers and a group of attendants in national costume. A Lithuanian priest had been driven to Hartford from Boston [I need to get the names from Sigita to insert here].
The church was almost half full, surprising given the poor weather conditions. It was a very nice service, entirely in Lithuanian, so I didn’t understand anything. If anyone sends me a summary of the homily I will post it.
Afterwards the funeral director took Vaiva for shipping to Lithuania, and the rest of us retired to the hall in Holy Trinity’s basement. As noted below, Sigita had arranged for the Lithuanian women to provide a pot luck luncheon, and we had additional eulogies for Vaiva. I will post the thoughts that I shared momentarily.
My father, mother, brother Bob and sister Jolene had flown in from Minneapolis for the sad occasion. My other sister Karen had tried to be with us but a variety of factors interfered. The kids and I spent the rest of the afternoon with them at their hotel at Bradley airport.
As noted earlier, we flew to Lithuanian the next day, Sunday, after a neighbor helped pull our van out up our icy driveway. Vaiva was shipped to Lithuania on Monday.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Post funeral luncheon
After the funeral, we retired to the basement of Holy Trinity Church, where Sigita had overseen provision of a pot luck luncheon, in the standard fashion of the Lithuanian-American Community. We had a message from the Lithuanian Embassy, then
a speech from Vytas Maciūnas, Vaiva's successor as head of Bendroumenė (the Lithuanian-American Community). Also
Gita Kupčinskas, Vaiva's lifelong friend from childhood in New Haven, spoke about the creation and success of the American Professional Partnership for Lithuanian Education.
If the speakers send me their speeches, I will post them. I spoke, and I will post my remarks tomorrow. Elona concluded the proceedings with the poem posted below and a song.
a speech from Vytas Maciūnas, Vaiva's successor as head of Bendroumenė (the Lithuanian-American Community). Also
Gita Kupčinskas, Vaiva's lifelong friend from childhood in New Haven, spoke about the creation and success of the American Professional Partnership for Lithuanian Education.
If the speakers send me their speeches, I will post them. I spoke, and I will post my remarks tomorrow. Elona concluded the proceedings with the poem posted below and a song.
Hartford photos
I don't have many photos of the Hartford funeral as yet. I've been told that others took pictures, and I will post them as I receive them.
The procession to the front of the church was led by people in national costumes.
In addition, we had pall bearers, whose main duty was moving the casket in and out of the church.
The procession to the front of the church was led by people in national costumes.
In addition, we had pall bearers, whose main duty was moving the casket in and out of the church.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Gone From My Sight
Elona concluded the post-funeral memorial service for Vaiva with this:
Gone From My Sight
by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined
port.
Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"
And that is dying...
Gone From My Sight
by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined
port.
Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"
And that is dying...
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Not an ordinary morning in Durham
We had fully 12 inches of snow this morning. Vaiva's funeral begins in two hours.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Adventures in winter driving
The funeral home in Wethersfield is about half an hour from our home in Durham on a normal day. The drive was fully two hours today, with the snow, ice and traffic. Very dangerous driving, so most people heeded our warning to stay home. Perhaps a couple dozen people were able to reach the funeral home, including, to my surprise, a half dozen of Sirvydas' high school friends. The small numbers gave me the opportunity to review in detail with each guest all the photos we brought for display in the collages and on the laptop.
In death, Vaiva resembles her mother, and her aunt, more than she did in life.
What can I say, it was terribly sad. I haven't nearly come to terms with it. So Vaiva--or the god of weather--seems to have given me a new task to take my mind off of it.
Driving home started out quicker, because I91 was plowed, if not cleared. Traffic was by then light, and we could maintain 35 mph steadily. However, the roads in Durham had had much less attention, and the snowfall had reached 6 to 8 inches. I tried the usual approach to our home twice, losing traction on the hill both times. As I backed down after the second attempt, I inadvertently put one back tire partly into the snowbank, getting the car quite stuck. Fortunately, Lokys was able to push the front end back out into the road, and we proceeded to an alternate, longer approach that is less steep. With some difficulty, we careened up the mile long incline and made it safely home.
I was just able to get down the driveway, but now I have a huge job to do in the morning. The driveway must be plowed before we drive out, which takes an hour, and we have to leave by about 7:45 to be at the funeral home by 8:30. You do the math.
Just like I had to plow it out for the major snowfall when Senelis died.
In death, Vaiva resembles her mother, and her aunt, more than she did in life.
What can I say, it was terribly sad. I haven't nearly come to terms with it. So Vaiva--or the god of weather--seems to have given me a new task to take my mind off of it.
Driving home started out quicker, because I91 was plowed, if not cleared. Traffic was by then light, and we could maintain 35 mph steadily. However, the roads in Durham had had much less attention, and the snowfall had reached 6 to 8 inches. I tried the usual approach to our home twice, losing traction on the hill both times. As I backed down after the second attempt, I inadvertently put one back tire partly into the snowbank, getting the car quite stuck. Fortunately, Lokys was able to push the front end back out into the road, and we proceeded to an alternate, longer approach that is less steep. With some difficulty, we careened up the mile long incline and made it safely home.
I was just able to get down the driveway, but now I have a huge job to do in the morning. The driveway must be plowed before we drive out, which takes an hour, and we have to leave by about 7:45 to be at the funeral home by 8:30. You do the math.
Just like I had to plow it out for the major snowfall when Senelis died.
We're off to the wake
Although it's way early, we're leaving now for lunch with the Minneapolis tribe, then we go to the funeral home. We're going to be super early, but we also will be somewhat ahead the height of the snow storm. Snow has reached New York City, but not here yet, where we are approaching the end of the 10 am to 1 pm window. I guess that means it'll be tougher to drive home after.
Additional hours for the wake
Given the impending snow storm (which hasn't yet started, by the way, but the Durham schools are closed nonetheless), we will have a short wake tomorrow morning also, for those who can't make it today. Today's wake is still on, from 5 to 8. Tomorrow morning you can come to the funeral home between 8:30 to 9:00 am, the casket will still be open and the family will be there. The procession leaves the funeral home at 9:15 for Holy Trinity Church.
The collage
For Vaiva's wake we have two magnetic boards for displaying photos and other momentos. Liepa and I organized them last night. Some of the photos have already been posted on this blog, others I will scan in to post later. You can click on the photo to enlarge it.
This first one includes Vaiva's girlhood, her mother, father and aunt Lijole. The top right is a shot I took during her freshman year at MIT. Under it is a bedroom shot after our first son, Aras, was born.
In the center are photos of Vaiva's half sister and two half brothers in Lithuania. Along the bottom we have scenes from our family life, including the dance rehearsal for the Toronto Svente.
The collection below includes a signature template for the "Free Lithuania Now" petition, asking Bush I and our Congress to support the Baltic states quest to leave the Soviet Union. I believe that she collected about 120,000 signatures by sending the template to Lithuanians all over the U.S. We had a photo of her presenting the petition to Senator Robert Dole, but I haven't seen it in years I'm afraid.
We also display Volume 1, Number 1 of Report to the Corps, Vaiva's communication to her A.P.P.L.E. friends and supporters.
We have photos of activism, a.p.p.l.e. leadership, and our wedding. In the center is a photo of Vaiva with granddaughter Adrija and President Adamkus.
I just realized that we didn't include anything from Vaiva's final year. I suppose that's because I remember it, and these are from longer ago.
This first one includes Vaiva's girlhood, her mother, father and aunt Lijole. The top right is a shot I took during her freshman year at MIT. Under it is a bedroom shot after our first son, Aras, was born.
In the center are photos of Vaiva's half sister and two half brothers in Lithuania. Along the bottom we have scenes from our family life, including the dance rehearsal for the Toronto Svente.
The collection below includes a signature template for the "Free Lithuania Now" petition, asking Bush I and our Congress to support the Baltic states quest to leave the Soviet Union. I believe that she collected about 120,000 signatures by sending the template to Lithuanians all over the U.S. We had a photo of her presenting the petition to Senator Robert Dole, but I haven't seen it in years I'm afraid.
We also display Volume 1, Number 1 of Report to the Corps, Vaiva's communication to her A.P.P.L.E. friends and supporters.
We have photos of activism, a.p.p.l.e. leadership, and our wedding. In the center is a photo of Vaiva with granddaughter Adrija and President Adamkus.
I just realized that we didn't include anything from Vaiva's final year. I suppose that's because I remember it, and these are from longer ago.
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