For My Dad On The Third Anniversary Of His Death

For My Dad On The Third Anniversary Of His Death

This is probably the hardest and most intimate article I have ever written on Gather. This is for you Joe. I love you, I miss you and I always will. I know you are with me at times and your wise words and kindness guides me everyday of my life. First you may ask why I call my dad Joe. I do that because Joe is not my biological dad, but in the real sense of the word he is my true and real dad. My biological father never really seemed to be interested in his children, In fact I have not spoken to him in many years. I just gave up trying. I was brought up by my mom, and then by my mom and Joe. Those who read what I write, my articles and comments, know I have a strong connection to the beliefs I was brought up with I owe those beliefs to my mom (so thank you Pat, I haven't been allowed to call her mom since I turned eighteen, its a family thing) and to my dad. My mom met Joe at a Mensa party when I was eight years old. They soon started dating. My sister and I saw right away that he was definitely a keeper and would pester him saying things like Isn't my mom beautiful? and Isn't my mom a great cook? I think for me it was love at first sight. My mom told me later that she did not like him at first, she thought he was full of himself, she was happy to find out she was wrong.

Many of you who are into Classical music may actually know his work because he became quite famous in his field. You can use any web search and look him up and find articles about him in newspapers from across the USA. I do this periodically just to see if I find something new. Yesterday I did find something I had never seen before.

A Concert for Joseph McLellan
A memorial concert will be presented tonight at the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater in honor of the late Joseph McLellan , who wrote for The Washington Post from 1972 to 2005 and served as the paper's chief classical music critic from 1981 to 1995. The free concert, which will begin at 7, will feature the baritone Gordon Hawkins (who recently starred in "Porgy and Bess" with Washington National Opera), the Audubon String Quartet , pianist-composer Jessica Krash, guitarist Berta Rojas and members of the Washington National Opera and Domingo-Cafritz Young Artists Program.

The Kennedy Center has donated the use of the theater and all costs in memory of McLellan, who died Dec. 26. Today would have been his 77th birthday.
The Washington Post Monday, 27 March 2006

Joe was born in Quincy in March 1929 and grew up in Somerville, Massachusetts. It's a terrible thing but I could never remember which day was his birthday. I think it was the twenty-ninth. Also strange my biological father's birthday is 15 March 1929 (the Ides of March) so they were born about fifteen days apart. His father was a milkman who drove a horse drawn wagon. I think he was very proud of his father. Joe was a self taught writer. I am going to quote from one of his obits here. A sister, Cecilia Chapdelaine, recalled that, as a youngster, he taught himself to write by buying a set of encyclopedias with his paper route money and reading a ''how to write" book that came as a bonus with the encyclopedias. He bought a used typewriter and practiced relentlessly. When I met him he worked for the NCS (National Catholic Service, its a news service like Reuters or UPI) as a reviewer. I remember he and my mother frequently going to see the Boston Pops when Arthur Fiedler was the conductor. It made me so happy that my mom had found a nice man that she had the chance to spend her life with, someone that was good and kind, someone who had a generosity of spirit. My biological father in my opinion was not a very nice man. He could be cruel. So it gave me even as a child real joy that my mom had met Joe.

NCS transferred him to New Jersey so my mom, my sister and I moved there also (by this time my brothers were not living with us anymore). We didn't live there a long time, maybe eight months when he got another offer. Notre Dame University wanted to reformat and update their magazine Ave Maria and asked Joe to oversee it. So we all moved into one house together for the first time as a family in South Bend, Indiana. There he and some others who became part of his and our lives started A.D. 70. In my humble opinion it was a great magazine, but sadly after only about another eight months the university did not agree and decided to fold the magazine. That is how we ended up in Washington, D.C. Joe went back to work for NCS (I could have ended up in Arizona, I think I was lucky there, Washington was a great place to grow up when I was in junior high and high school). The Washington Post heard about Joe's work and offered him a job which he accepted. At first they were not sure what to do with him and had him covering parties at embassies etc. Then it was over to the Bookworld (under the very sweet Bridget Weeks, sorry if I misspelled her name) reviewing books, then they added chess reviews and then finally to his forte music.

Strongly negative reviews were rare. To highlight negativity was a bit mean, he said, because you can find weakness in any human effort.

He once told Washingtonian magazine: To be the primary critic of a monopoly newspaper is an overwhelming role. You have to tread softly and be fully aware that your taste is not the only valid taste. All these years, I pasted in the front of my mind that there are many ways to be good.

Kim Klein, a friend and former Post colleague who often accompanied him to musical performances, recalled him saying, Isn't it wonderful that someone in the world this very moment is hearing Beethoven's Fifth Symphony for the very first time?

Even since I can remember there was always music in life with Joe. He and my mom listened to the underground rock station when we lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He loved all music whether it was folk (American, Irish etc.), rock, jazz, classical or experimental. Though toward the end of his life he decided classical was the only thing to listen to, except for The Beatles, he never lost his love of The Beatles. My bedroom was above his home office in WDC and I remember a night I was awoken at about 2 AM with music blaring through my floor. He was listening to John Glass. In the beginning he reviewed all kinds of music, my best memory was when he took me to see Emerson, Lake and Palmer at the Capitol Centre. Actually it caused a minor scandal because he reversed two of their first names in his review. He took one of my brothers to see Johnny Winter. Boy was I jealous!

Its sad that you all could not have met him. He was a great person. He had a wonderful and childlike sense of humour. For instance there was the time he went to lunch with Maurice Sendak at the Madison Hotel. They required ties in the dining room and Joe was into his turtleneck phase. So they gave him a tie and he tied it like a bow around his neck, and then he dipped it into his soup. I think he thought the policy was silly and stuffy. He was also kind and generous with everyone, no matter who they were. You could be the checkout person at the grocery store or Beverly Sills (who he did know) and you would be treated with equal kindness and courtesy. He was intelligent and read everything. Once he actually read a book on the history of Penicillin. Not something most people would read. He had a great joi de vive. My friends (even in the crowd I ran in that had ambassador's kids etc.) were always a little intimidated by him. I never knew why. Because even though he knew alot of famous people, went to the White House alot, went to fancy parties at embassies and for events to me he was always just Joe. Just my dad.

When Hubby and I got together Joe and my mom were going to Vienna, Austria for the annual Mozart Festival. He was invited every year to speak about anything he cared to speak about. We were all making preparations, what they needed to take etc. and each time we talked about it Hubby (or should I say boyfriend at that time) got a confused look on his face. He finally asked me what the big deal was about going to Vienna, Virginia. Hubby says the first time I brought him to meet my parents he thought I made a mistake and took him to a library instead. It all seemed so normal to me I never saw how it most have looked like from the outside.

The best times were the times at home. Playing our guitars around the dinner table (my mom of course reading a book). My favorite was Scarborough Fair. He was a wonderful guitarist, I could only play chords, he could make his guitar sing. He finally had to put his guitar down. He couldn't play anymore. Discussing the books I read for school. Talking to him about his life and mine. Getting his advice on things I needed help with in my life. Sharing my happiness and sadness with him. He always edited my papers for college. I don't like my writing much. He told me he agreed with my professors and I was one of the best academic writers he had ever read, he did not give compliments lightly, so I believe he meant it.

I was not there when he died. A very sad schism had come between my mom and I based on something she just could not or would not accept. Something done to me as a child that I never wanted either of them to know about because of the pain it might cause them. But, they did find out and she did not believe I was telling the truth. It was to painful for her I guess. So I called and called and she kept saying he was out which technically was the truth, he was in the hospital. Hubby finally called and she said don't bother to call again, Joe is dead. I talked to a family friend after I found out about Joe's death, She said she had seen him that day and he was very hopeful for the future. He had suffered for years with diabetes and kidney disease. Many times when I had seen how hard on him it was to get dialysis I prayed to G-D to take his place. Hubby and I even offered him a kidney for transplant, but the doctors said he wasn't a good candidate. Our friend said he was looking forward to going home and learning to use a wheelchair to get around. He said he was tired and she left. He died in his sleep on 26 December 2005.

I know we all, or most of us think our parents are the most special people in the world. I am not trying to say that is not true. But Joe touched so many lives. So many mourned his passing on. He was brought up a strict Catholic and I asked him about it once, what he thought happened after death. He had become an Atheist and said after death there is nothing. But I cannot imagine a man such as Joe (or anyone really) becoming just nothing. His heart, spirit and soul, his life warmed and comforted so many people while he was here. I know he is in Pardis with his favorite composers listening to wonderful music and with his favorite authors discussing great writing. That he is once again able to play his guitar which he had to give up and making a joyful noise. So again I say Joe I miss you and love you, and I always will.

It occurs to me that tonight/tomorrow is Shabbas (The Sabbath). Shabbat Shalom (peaceful Sabbath) to all of you. Please excuse me, after I am done publishing this I am going to go offline for a bit.