One year ago today, I ran into your dad in Wegmans parking lot. He was going into the store as I was coming out. Your dad commented, “You’re particularly smiley today!” so I shared with him that it was my birthday. As he wished me a happy birthday, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and tried to hand me a $20 dollar bill. I refused it. He responded—with great patience—that I could either accept it graciously and go back into Wegmans and buy a nice bottle of wine to celebrate my birthday OR I could stand there in the parking lot and argue with him which, he explained, was “NOT the right choice” and "You will lose." I laughed, accepted the $20 graciously, and bought that bottle of wine. Today, one year later, I bought a good bottle of wine to celebrate my birthday AND to celebrate your dad. His kindness, his humor, his love, and his delight in celebrating with a good bottle of wine. When my dad passed, the world as I knew it shifted. The weighted center, the gravitational pull of the earth was different. I didn’t know what the world would be like without my dad in it. What I found was that what he left behind was more solid than I thought. I don’t know much, but I do know that the love that your dad left behind is solid. And you will lean on it, and carry it, and stand on it, and pass it on. You--all of you--were blessed and so was he. I love you all.

Most people would say they are indebted to their parents for giving them life; for that old seed and egg that made them. Me? I’ve always said I’m grateful to Geno Melander. I wasn’t yet born when Geno came into my life, so I can’t really tell you exactly how it happened. My father emigrated from Egypt in 1953 and became a “lousy half-time instructor” at the University of Minnesota. Geno, too, was a lousy half-time instructor at the University of Minnesota. One day, while passing in the hall or sharing an office or escaping a faculty meeting, they must have struck up a conversation that impressed them both because it lasted consistently until 2015 when my father passed away. 62 years. That’s a lot of talking. That’s what they did. And they loved it. My father referred to Geno as his “very best friend” and several people have told me that Geno consider my father his “very best friend”, a phrase I usually attribute to 12 year-old girls. A couple of years into this life-long conversation, Geno introduced my father to the woman who became my mother. My father’s very odd pick-up line was, “Oh, I see you have big eyes, too”. I can’t imagine that old seed and egg would have found one another if it hadn’t been for Geno Melander. And so, I credit him with my very existence. Geno was my father’s Best Man and Jackie was my mother’s Matron of Honor at their four-person courthouse wedding on October 4th 1957. Later on, Geno and his family moved to Pennsylvania. He and my father did the best they could to conduct a long distance love affair in an era when making phone calls across state lines came with a per-minute price tag that prohibited these two men who were raising young families on professors’ salaries from talking as much as they would have liked to. They wrote letters, a few of which I found in my father’s files after he died. I can’t decide if they were serious men who preferred being funny or funny men who preferred being serious. If they had been funny men who preferred being funny they could have given Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner a run for their money back in the days of early television. But if they had, then tens of thousands of college students in Minnesota and Pennsylvania would not have had their lives influenced so positively or profoundly by these two towering, confident, and curious academics. I have only a few vague impressions of the Melanders during my life. A trip to Sandwich, Cape Cod. A night at their home in State College during an Eastern road trip. Geno and Jackie made the long drive from their home to Philadelphia in 2005 to see a film festival screening of my film, Sweet Land. They traveled to Minnesota in 2015, just a few months before my dad died for one last big talk. My point is I probably spent a grand total of 20 hours with Geno in my entire life, yet he is with me always. Especially his wet index finger on my bare belly. It happened during a gathering at my parents house on Minnehaha Parkway. I know I was older than ten, because that’s when we moved into that house. And I was probably younger than 12 because I remember spending that evening in the basement with the younger kids playing board games, eating pizza rolls, and drinking Kool-Aid. I temporarily escaped upstairs, maybe in search of better food or a caramel-colored soda. Geno called me over. He was in a suit and tie, a yellow tie. He was sitting by the fireplace on my parents’ couch that was upholstered in bold red and blue, based on an early American floral pattern. He started to tell me a story and then, in front of the large gathering of professors and wives, he told me to lift up my shirt. I did, because it was Geno. He wet his index finger. Not licked it, but soaked it in his mouth. Then he used it to draw moist, saliva hieroglyphics and figurines on my skin to accompany his story. The face of a man - he had big eyes. A boat. Waves on the ocean. A lawn in need of trimming. A woman cooking. All in saliva. I have no exact recollection of what the story was about. Maybe there was a punchline at the end, making me think it actually might have been a joke Geno was telling me; a joke he’d told to countless others, to any kid would lift up their shirt. But in my memory it remains a kind of magical, illustrated biography; Geno’s interpretation of the events surrounding my parents and the family they made together. And I remember the feeling of those drawings on my belly as though Antoine de Saint-Exupéry was drawing the original images of The Little Prince by pressing his DNA into mine. I’m sure Jackie or one of her daughters can replace my memory with actual facts. But I hope they don’t. I like my memories of Geno. And while I know his family and friends will miss him terribly now that he’s gone, I can’t say that for myself. Not in those terms, at least. Geno is not missed; he is today what he has always been for me: essential and mystical and present.

Geno was a neighbor and very dear beloved friend of my mother Silvi Lawrence. I had wonderful opportunities to spend time with him and Jackie on multiple occasions. The first time was at my mothers home and besides the bottles of champagne and chocolates they also came with the delectable "cheese crackers" he had made fresh that day. Grated parmesan piled into disc shapes and baked in the oven. So simple and absolutely fabulous. A man who can take something as beautiful as Parmesean and elevate it to something even more beautiful - well I was smitten ever since. Much love to the family and know there is one more person out there who smiles when they think of Geno, husband, father, teacher & world traveling Cellist.

When I was 18 my father passed away, and Gene quietly and without fanfare did his best to step into the void that was left in my life - or at least, I always felt like that's what he tried to do. Not like he suddenly started checking up on me or anything, but when he saw me I felt like he always made sure to give me genuine attention and invited me (in a very gentle way) to share my fears and burdens with him. When my first marriage was ending, his ability to listen and advise without judgment was a true godsend. He was the father figure of my early adulthood that I know my actual father would have wanted me to have, and I am deeply grateful.

Gene and I took a philosophy class together some 35 years ago. I was a student, but Gene was in the midst of his career. Yet, there he was, in class, still pushing the envelope, trying to learn and understand despite his already busy schedule. Less than a week before he passed, Gene gave me a book on Plato that he had just read and wanted to know what I thought of it. Gene never stopped trying to discover, and his life and career were about promoting and facilitating this goal among others. We’ll miss him so much not only because he was such a pleasure to be with but because he was always gently nudging us to become the best people we could be. We honor his memory most when we continue his quest to discover life’s vistas until we too pass into stardust.

I always think of Gene with a sly smile on his face. He entered every meeting anticipating learning something new or bringing a new twist to an existing idea. I could count on Gene to be the voice of reason and the arbiter of the possible. He had the soul of a Greek philosopher and the sense of humor of a satirical pundit. It was a pleasure and a joy to encounter Gene and Jackie around State College because the conversation was lively, scholarly and profound. Penn State and State College are much better places for having Gene and Jackie Melander in our midst. I am a better person for having the privilege and pleasure of knowing and working with both of them. It is my sincerest hope that Gene has found a round table, a cup of coffee, and a group of intellectuals with which to commune. They will be enlightened, as was I, with each and every one of his observations.

I can't think of Gene with thinking of Jackie. It was she who I met first (through the historical society) and always admired how she managed this organization and acknowledged the contributions of others over her own. She also is a wise woman, who one time, when I met her in a parking lot with a scowl on my face related to a slight disagreement I was having with one of our sons, that I should give him some time and advised me that given two or three years, he would realize how much I HAD LEARNED in a short time. It was just what I needed...a deadline. Years later, I had the opportunity to wok with Gene on an international programs-related committee and quickly realized what a dynamic duo the two of them made....forgive the pun, but then, Gene was a specialist in puns. But while working with him, i realized that he was an honest-to-goodness MALE FEMINIST! So, I will continue with a few of my favorite Gene isms and other memories. First, Jackie told me that when their first grand daughter (Gwen) was born, she and Gene cared for her while her mother was ill and she (Jackie) told me several times she would find Gene leaning over the crib, with a smile on his face, totally captured by this new-born who was sound asleep...how tender! During Arts Fest one year, I introduced Jackie and Gene to a friend who was visiting. Gene remarked that she resembled Meryl Streep and she replied that she felt uncomfortable when she was told that. Gene's response was, "Well, I am told that I look like Menachem Begin." Comments about deferring retirement... . "I don't want to retire because I have nightmares about having to arrange chairs for Jackie's meetings." "I look forward to retiring, but probably would spend too much time trying to decide what wine to have with breakfast." I will always remember Gene and Jackie "cuddling" on a bench in HARRISONS, thoroughly enjoying their time with one another....as well as the food, of course. We all were blessed to know this fine man. . Sev

When I came to Penn State in 1979, Raniero Corbelletti, head of the Department of Architecture, told me that it was difficult to make friends in State College. Fortunately Gene and Jackie stepped up to the challenge. Jackie and I, acting as the good cop, bad cop members of the Design Review Board and Gene as my valued mentor, colleague, neighbor and friend who was always up for a spirited conversation. Whether it was having lunch at the Waffle Shop to critique Pattern Language by Christopher Alexander or bumping into Gene in aisle five at Wegmans, you could count on a quick one liner or, more likely, a conversation about Cape Cod, politics, education, music, the theater or his beloved family. It is clear that all of these shared stories about Gene will insure that his first run will live on without missing a note.

Gene Borza and I were newly married (44 years ago) when Gene and Jackie Melander generously welcomed me to their social circle. Along with John and Stephany Romano, Joe and Bonnie Flay, Tracy and George Heitmann and Jane and Vince Norris, they formed a friendship circle that persists all these years later. It was a time when dinner parties were the preferred way to entertain (let those days return!) and Gene Melander was always a treasured guest and appreciator of food and wine. Not just "oh, a lovely Cotes du Rhone" but "isn't this Cotes du Rhone Villages made by the same winemaker who makes Chateauneuf du Pape?) Over the years, Gene evolved from a knowledgeable appreciator to a fine cook and baker himself. I envied his baking skills! I wasn't surprised to learn he had taken up the cello just a few weeks ago. Gene Melander was a colleague to both of us. To Gene Borza, a fellow academic and teacher, and to me an administrator in the years I was a WPSX/WPSU staffer and adjunct faculty member. The bureaucracy of Penn State is legendary, so I always respected Gene's gentle patience in working within it, to improve its operations and policies for students, staff and faculty alike. There is so much to admire in Gene Melander--as a teacher, friend, husband and as an extraordinary father. Karen and Michael Borza grew up with the Melander daughters Jody, Leigh and Lynn, and shared in the excursions and neighborhood like that Jackie and Gene created for their daughters and the tribe of kids who formed around them. He lived a life of purpose and love.

A lighthearted invitation to enjoy a Happy Hour at Spillian in October 2018 turned into one of the most lighthearted, delightful evenings we've had in many years. Geno and JJ had come up to spend some precious time time with Leigh and Mark, and Dennis and I had the pleasure of enjoying wine, cheese, and various other refreshments in an intimate gathering. I was subjected to Geno's distinctive modes of Socratic questioning, revealing his insatiable curiosity and twinkling wit. Although this guestbook entry mode does not allow me to share the picture that I took of the lovely gift Geno bestowed on me, I treasure the ONE PRECIOUS GRAPE he gave me! Yes, it looks simply like one lonely grape, but it symbolizes the marvelous fullness of our one and only meeting. That grape is a microcosm of the immensity of our human experience, savored over wine, cheese, philosophy, and laughter. And a week later we were honored to be admitted to the ASTWSNGU, JJ's and Geno's recognition that we are suitably weird enough to be appreciated by this remarkable family. Thanks to Leigh and family for this opportunity to share our remembrances of our, however brief, unforgettable experience. We love you all.