Si Monumentum Requiris, Circumspice

The inscription on the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren (1632-1723) the architect of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and much of London after the Great Fire of 1666.

Last week I attended the funeral of a beloved grad school professor, Bill Meiers. His departure from the planet was truly a shock. He was a vibrant 56 year-old who had completed over 100 marathons and double digit triathlons. He had more zest and enthusiasm for life than anyone I’ve ever met. He packed in at least two very full lifetimes worth of activities, adventures, and service into his 56 years.

The priest who officiated the memorial service talked about Bill and how for him teaching was an act of faith: you are planting seeds and you’ll never know if they will grow or not. I’ve heard that before. Another version of the same sentiment is that we are planting trees under which we will never sit.

But the priest also quoted something I had never heard. He told about visiting St. Paul’s Cathedral in London and looking for the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren. When he finally got to the small alcove all he found was a plaque: LECTOR SI MONUMENTUM REQUIRIS CIRCUMSPICE. Reader, if you seek his monument, look around. 

The point being, of course, that the lives Bill touched; the vistas he opened; the teachers he inspired to have fun, be their crazy selves, and ceremoniously bestow gold stars to students who are particularly clever in class: we are his monument.

That’s all very well and good, and I believe now that Bill is on the other side he is basking in the glow of all the love, admiration and appreciation emanating from the hearts and minds of those who knew him.

However, we need to tell people while they are here, too. Our teachers, our hairdressers, our farmers market guys–and of course our friends and family. If the way someone does their job or lives their live inspires you to be more, or do more, or even just brings you a smile and a good feeling–tell them. I was talking about this with my friend, former student, and hairdresser, Natalie, and she agreed.

“We think in our heads these compliments to people, but we never say them. The words make a difference.” Yes, they do.

Another grad school professor, and dear friend, says: “Thank those who help you and do so generously.”

Thank you Bill Meiers.

This very high quality cup of hot chocolate–and each one to come–is for you.

#billmeiersrip #simonumentumrequiris #teachinglife #grief #teachingthroughgrief #teachinghamlet #saythankyou