Mario Reda and Billy (click here for more pictures)

Unconditional Love, by Connie Reda

Unconditional Love
by Connie Reda

My Dad, Mario Raymond Reda, has always been there for me through the thick and the thin. He has always put my needs above his own and has made many great sacrifices for me. He was married once before and is a whopping 65 years old now. He’s already had a set of kids and had gone through the whole parenting thing before, yet he treats my brother and I with the greatest luxury he can get. He has made so many sacrifices for me and I have never given him credit hr deserves. And I don’t know how I can pay him back but till then id like you all to know how great he is.

I remember my father and the things we used to do when I was little. Although now he is retired, he used to be a soccer coach at the College of Dupage. Soccer has always been a passion of his and it was passed from his father to him and down to me. He used to bring me to work and I would help him out during practice. I did all sorts of jobs such as cheerleader, water girl, and eventually the ball girl. I’d go to many of the games and he would let all college students coddle me and of course I loved all the attention. After practice sometimes he would bring me to class where he taught sociology and I would sit there and look cute and help daddy with all the little things that really made me more of a nuisance than a help. And all though I was such a distraction my dad still let me come along, because running over and picking up his dropped pen made me feel really special.

I remember all the car rides I had with my dad. My parents would often meet places after work. My dad would come from work in his Alfa Romeo (his prized Italian sports car) and my Mom would come in her car. On the way home me and my brother would always split up, one in Dad’s car, one in Mom’s car. My brother was little when we used to do this and stuck by mom so I was normally in dad’s car. We would always have the best conversations. He would talk about how he ran for congress before I was born and how if he won we might not be in the war we are in now or how he and his friends would talk all the old Christmas trees after Christmas, and have a huge bonfire. Another one of his great discussion topics was architecture, I don’t know how but you would be driving around and he would point out houses and tell you who built them and when. When my family got bored of hearing the same stories over and over (because he would forget which one he told) I grew very fond of them and I hold them dear to me now. I specifically remember one car ride and I wasn’t talking very much to which he responded with the old phrase“ a penny for your thoughts?” and me being the stickler I am said “ a penny is worth nothing now-a-days... a quarter is about the equivalent to a penny in the olden days” so we compromised and he gave me a nickel and I told him what was on my mind.

My father has always spoiled me in such manners. If I ever needed something he was that parent to go to. When I was with him we did all sorts of things that broke the rules, especially in our morning routine. With him cookies and cake for breakfast was a must. I recall sitting with my dad and dipping my cookies in his cappuccino until my mom got mad saying it would stunt my growth and that I was short enough. Therefore, he would make me a “cappuccino” (steamed milk) of my own and always make sure to sprinkle chocolate on top to make it a “rich treat”.

In the middle of 8th grade this happy healthy man started to deteriorate when he was diagnosed with cancer. I always knew because of his age he would die early, but it was such an abrupt change I was in total shock, along with the rest of my family. My dad has gone from a happy youthful active man to a dying couch potato. He talks his way out of going anywhere now a days. He’s gone from a plump little man to all skin and bones. He was always hard of hearing but now you literally need to yell things to him sometimes. It is always so frustrating to talk to him because he makes you repeat everything and instead of just asking you to repeat he’ll blame you for speaking to softly or turning your head, making it hard to get a word in. Since now all he hears is people yelling at him and he never wants to get up and do anything. His sits on the couch in his pajamas and watches TV the ENTIRE day.

Even though he’s sick and suffering now because of the chemotherapy, he continues to take it because he feels that my brother and I have not gotten our share by dyeing so soon and he’s trying to prolong his death even thought we know his cancer is incurable since we caught it in such a late stage.

I know that even though my dad and I don’t do the things we used to do anymore, he still loves me and shows it through all the sacrifices he makes. Though I would give anything to bring back those times where we went out together, I have learned a valuable lesson I shall not forget. I have learned that I must cherish what I have and not mourn what I have lost. And though my dad and I don’t do much anymore, and regret not seizing that chance while I could I realize that I still have a dad who loves me so much he will sacrifice his comfort, and I know he will love me and watch over me, even when he’s gone.

Mario Reda Interview, By Connie Reda

Mario Reda Interview
By Connie Reda

Q: What kind of things do u do in advanced to prepare for your lecture

I deal with a body of knowledge, therefore the content of my course is always changing. I need to constantly update my material, read the newspaper . I want them to come out of my class being more knowledgeable and be better members of the community. MY goal is for them is to learn more about the society in which they hold membership and to see it clearly while they are members.

I use 3 sets of materials to do this.
On a daily basis we read a national newspaper such as the New York Times
I use classic research materials that have been gathered over time then I integrate the two into a class discussion. What comes out of all this is subsinitive material and current discussion that is lively and applicable to everyday living

Are you ever nervous? If so what do you do to get rid of this nervousness?

No.

Do you have nothing to tell children what to do to overcome nervousness
You overcome-nervousness by having good material and rehearsing it.

Do you ever rehearse your lectures?
I have been teaching for a while now and rehearse all my lectures in the car drive to school.

How do u keep your train of thought?

Certain materials call for an immediate set of ideas. I simply bring my materials and the though process moves on. My train of though changes with student’s ideas. Sometimes students bring up certain ideas and the lecture moves in that direction and I let it

How, and how often do u incorporate visuals into your lecture?

All the time. After you teach for a while you have a set of pictures transparencies and short parts of films that teach ideas. I’m not making one lecture, I’m making … 3 months of ideas. Sometime I go to the textbook sometimes I use the newspaper everyday sometimes I bring in movies. And everyday I bring in my book to keep the course on target



What if you forget something, or mess up in some way, how do you get over it?
If I mess up I just admit to it and go on to a new point in the class. I acknowledge it and just go on to a new point.

What are some really embarrassing moments u have had while teaching?
There are plenty of embarrassing moments, u laugh at it and move on. I cannot think of anything specific but there are plenty you just need to move on.

Euolgy ALAN LANNING

Our colleague Mario Raymond Reda died of cancer Tuesday night. As a personal friend, family friend and as a professional colleague I was, I think, in a unique position to appreciate his many roles.

I used the word appreciate but in all candor I must add that, while I certainly didn’t have a love-hate relationship with Mario, it was maybe an appreciate-frustrate relationship. His many roles included:
· The professor
· The politician
· The soccer coach
· The newspaper columnist and radio disk jockey (he wrote a column for the Oak Park/River Forest newspaper and hosted a jazz program for a short time)
· The computer geek (or at least wannabe, those damn computers just wouldn’t respond to his cajoling like people did)
· And foremost, the Catholic and the father.

He was a character right out of a Suds Turkel book. Stud’s famous book Division Street would be the one. I first meet Mario in 1970, just after that book was published. I read the book a few years later when both Mario and I were living a few blocks from each other in Oak Park just a block off of Division Street. Division St. parallels Mario’s life running east-west though Chicago, Oak Park and River Forest, but Mario’s adventures continued further west into DuPage county and area he never really loved like he did Chicago.

Mario the professor earned a B.A. in sociology and a Masters of Community Development both from Southern Illinois University. Hired in 1969, he was one of the first faculty members at the College. My relationship with Mario began in 1970 when I took my first plane ride from San Diego to be interviewed at the College. At that time Mario was Dean of Behavioral Sciences. Yes Mario was an administrator and he interviewed me and, along with Con Patsavas, he hired me.

Mario’s tenure as administrator didn’t last too long. His training in community development was in the confrontational tradition of the famed Chicagoan Saul Alinisky. A methodology that was effective in Chicago when Mario grew up but didn’t fit well with the WASPY 1970’s environment of DuPage County. Around that time he received some much needed “sensitivity training” from the then wildly popular National Training Labs in Bethel, Maine. This culminated with his involvement in the College’s Urban Outpost project. Marvin Segal was the driving force behind the program that introduced DuPage students to city life and challenges by living and learning for a few weeks in a brownstone near the University of Chicago campus.

Mario grew up above a bar on Grand Ave in the middle of one of Chicago’s ethnic melting pots. His father and mother immigrated from Italy. Reda’s Tavern had a small restaurant downstairs. It was the community watering hole and meeting spot something like Starbucks today only blue collar with cops and politicians hanging out there nightly. In the 1970s Mario and his two brothers bought Augustino’s Restaurant on Rush St., a classic Chicago restaurant and after hours meeting spot for entertainers of the day. In later years we shared some great times at his brother Frank’s restaurant Topio Gigios in Old Town. His brother Bob was the Chicago distributor for Jack Daniels – many students’ were amazed at all the Jack Daniels memorabilia in his office.

Mario’s political connections served him well during the Vietnam War when he joined the Army and served as an MP at O’Hara airport, going home each night.

Mario had politics in his blood. He loved the action of politics, the campaign as well as its potential to change society. He won the 1984 primary election and was the Democratic candidate for the U.S. 6th Congressional District running against Republican Henry Hyde. That was truly a grass-roots campaign, the last of its kind. I, who had trouble balancing my checkbook, served as Treasure. It is hard to believe with today’s multi-million dollar Congressional campaigns but our total budget was just over $100,000. Despite the meager funds Mario received one-third of the votes. None of Hyde’s opponents since then, even with million dollar budgets, has received a greater percentage of the vote.

Soccer was also in Mario’s blood. He served as the College Men’s and Women’s Soccer coach receiving many awards including Women's Soccer Coach of the Year four times.
Mario was fierce protector of academic freedom and the idea of academia. He was very proud of his role as professor. He edited three collections of readings for Allyn & Bacon and Simon and Schuster. Early in the College’s history he organized the local chapter of both the American Association of University Professors and the American Federation of Teachers. He couldn’t resist speaking at faculty meetings. He would start with slow measured tones and end up yelling. Although I sunk into my seat and secretly cringed whenever he stood up I knew we were in for a show and often there was a nugget of wisdom buried in the rhetoric.

Mario was always late. He once suggested that we car pool from Oak Park to the College. It must have been a moment of weakness but I said OK. That lasted three days. Mario could be very enduring but he could also be a pain-in-the-ass.

Mario the father is his greatest legacy. He had two broods, five children total ranging in age from 41 to 12. I have known and loved all of his kids. They are all smart, beautiful, successful, happy people.

Mario will be missed.
Allen Lanning

PETER BAGNUOLO Bible Reading

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou anointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

Eulogy Willy

Folks,

Coach Kelly and I had spoken that we wanted to start a Scholarship Fund in Doc’s name. If anyone would like to play a part in that please contact me. I will be speaking to the College Foundation about this early next week.
I had the chance to speak with Mario a few times the last few months and he was always asking about the program. He was so proud of all of us and his association with our successes. I know he enjoyed each season and loved sharing stories of past seasons and ex-players.
Mario will be missed.

Euolgy Ricardo Medina

From: ricarmedi@hotmail.com
Subject: Mario "Doc' Reda
Date: July 2, 2007 10:14:25 AM CDT
To:redaart@mac.com

You could always tell when he was winding up for the “Big one”. He’d casually walk over to the shelf of bats and thoughtfully select the one that suited his mood. One, two, three test swings
yeah
this is the one. He walked up to the plate and looked out across the field to assess his opponents, took a deep breath, gazed up and off to the side as if accessing a file from his memory and swung at the pitched ball.

Sometimes he would strike out. Other times it was a hit, an RBI
a home run. He loved to play this game. The game I am referring to is the game of discussion, debate, people
life.

Not too long ago and perhaps longer than I care to admit, a young man found himself at the College of Dupage. He had decided to return to school and continue his education and found himself by chance or design in Sociology 100. Prof. Reda turned out to be an interesting man. The class did not fit the traditional model, to the young man’s delight. Intro classes are usually lecture based and boring. This was different, new, and fascinating. Students in this class were actually expected to think for themselves!! It didn’t take long for the students to polarize themselves. Some disliked this format, disliked having to think instead of being told what to think. They did not like the 40 min stories of life or what they considered self-indulgent ravings. Others, including the young man, saw the connections to the “Sociological Perspective” for is not sociology about relationships and groups of people? Prof. Reda was presenting a big picture. The students that chose not to see or were unable to because of the blinders they wore could never appreciate what this man was trying to teach them. For them
it was just a class they had to endure. For the young man
it was much more.

It wasn’t long before he went to chat with Prof. Reda in his office and soon the talk gravitated toward soccer. He asked the Prof. if he knew anything about the soccer program at COD and if he knew when tryouts were to be held. “Well
” said Mario, “I think I can point you in the right direction. And call me ‘Doc’.” This is one of the many things I have to thank him for. I too, have a love of soccer. But my passion for it is in the playing. I never considered myself a good player but that never stopped me from going out there and giving it my best and enjoying myself. And boy did I enjoy myself!
Except for all that running during practice. I never minded the 2-mile run but the ‘killers’ and ‘Kelley Specials’ were banes to my existence.

Because of ‘Doc’ I met some great people, Coach Jimmy Kelley, Coach Willie Fajkus, the late Julie Svec, my fellow teammates who suffered along with me during practice. I met some of his esteemed colleagues, Al Manaster, Alan Lanning. I met his wife Lisa and two youngest children Connie and Becket. I regret only that I did not get to meet more, for great men surround themselves with great people.
I met his pride and joys of technology
the satellite dish in his back yard and his Mac. He introduced me to the motorized wonder that was his Alfa Romeo. When he introduced me to his brother Frank, I thought he might be pulling my leg.
Here was a man who made his point relatively quickly in comparison to ‘Doc’ who liked to take his time making his point. Could they both be from the same stock? I was introduced to the wonderful Cuisine of Topo Gigio.
He and I would dine there on occasion, whenever I managed to tear him away from his many pursuits. “ I’m up to my ass in alligators.” He would say. There always seamed to be a steady supply of alligators.

He later encouraged me to take his Sociology 290 class, which he co-taught with Al Manaster. I did and it changed the way I looked at communication and how I communicated with others. It changed me in subtle yet fundamental ways. The skills I learned were the catalyst for the personal growth I experienced over the subsequent years. Growth that I seamed to be experiencing in leaps and bounds. Growth that I am experiencing to this very day.

I remember something I heard long ago
. People may not remember what you look like. They may not remember what you said. But they will remember how you made them feel.
Doc is a man that tended to engender strong emotions. Apathy was never one of them.

Thank you Mario

Thank you for being my teacher, my soccer pal,
The catalyst for my continued growth as a man,
For being a part of who I am today.
Thanks ‘Doc’

For being my friend.

Ricardo Medina 6/25/07

Euolgy read by Maria Brissette

Monday, June 25, 2007 Eulogy for Mario Raymond Reda
written by Mario's children and his eldest neice: Sheri Reda


Good Morning.

My name is Maria Brissette, or “Mia,” as my close friends and family know me. (My dad named me after the Virgin Mary and Mia Farrow, Tory thinks its Mia from west side story.)

I’m the oldest of Mario’s five children—who include me, Trinity, Salvatore, Concetta, and Franco Becket.

Unlike my father, I have not the gift nor practice for public speaking. But I’ve spent the last 1 ½ years as a stay-at-home mom and I have learned to project my voice using such phrases as:
“Billy, get down from there!”
“Please put that down!”
And,
“Rocks aren’t food!”
Maybe the courage and “iron-will” it takes to discipline a toddler will help me get through this eulogy.

Here it goes:

[Mia, now take another breath and another count to three.]

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

He was an educated guy, my dad, and he must have heard that quote from Mahatma Gandhi. Or maybe he read it. Or maybe he just believed it along with Gandhi. Because that’s what he did: he set out to be what he wished to see in the world. And he pretty much pulled it off.

Our dad, Mario Raymond Reda, believed that family and family traditions were the most important things in the world.

As a kid, our dad and his brothers, Uncle Frank and Uncle Bob, helped Grandma Connie keep a bit of Italy alive. Grandma had somehow got a fig tree all the way from Calabria, Italy to Chicago, where a tree like that could never survive the winter.

It couldn’t, but it did.

Dad, Uncle Frank, and Uncle Bob dug up that fig tree every fall. They wrapped it, and buried it below the frost line to keep it alive through every winter. And each spring, the three brothers unearthed it, making Chicago into a place with fig trees.

Mario Reda wished to see a world in which people learned things and then taught and shared what they knew. So he did that, too.

As a college student on fire with the changing times, he studied sociology. At home, he explained what he had learned about human beings as social creatures, about the workings of organizations and institutions, and about ways to improve them so they would be more just for all. The more he learned, the more he shared, becoming a dedicated and beloved professor—so beloved that one of his ex-students, [smile at Lisa and say, “Hi, Lisa”] up and married him!

He wished to see his congressional district become a more liberal, more compassionate, more intelligently run district, and so he ran against arch-conservative Henry Hyde. He didn’t let the fact that Hyde was firmly entrenched stop him. He was so dedicated to the campaign it was catchy! He even managing to convince Trinity, at age thirteen, to dress up in her too-small Halloween bunny suit pass out flyers. Dad knew he would probably lose, but he also knew he would make a difference. He was convinced that his speeches, his literature, and his visionary campaign would influence the conversations held in the district and make the invisible liberal voter more visible. They did.

Dad was visionary even about duct tape, which the rest of the world discovered only after 9-11. As was the owner of an electric lawn mower, Mario could be heard mowing his lawn on Saturdays in this way: brrrrrrrrr, oh, shit! brrrrrrrrr, oh, shit! brrrrrrrrr, oh, shit! He kept running over the electrical cord. But no worries! Mario fixed the cord, again and again, until its orange and black coating resembled a tiger’s tale.

So he wasn’t a fix-it man by nature, he was an intellectual at heart. But he also loved sports. He wished to see soccer gain the prominence his father has worked for, so he became a coach as well as a fan. Dad spent countless hours watching soccer movies with Salvatore on 16 mm film. The two of them would study the games play by play and copy them for their own Maroon games.

Dad brought all his skills and talent to what he did, and coaching was not exception. Since he was great at studying, he studied actual games. And because he was professionally trained to analyze group behavior, he brought a keen analysis to his coaching. “See?” he’d say, “British play long ball but the Italians love to dribble.”

“Watch,” he’d point out, “The Brazilians are great passers. The Americans—the Americans like to run. They’re runners.” And he’d be right.

Being right wasn’t all-important, though. Because Dad valued wisdom more than information, questions more than answers, and faith rather than doubt. He put these values into practice by insisting on Catholic education—and whenever possible, on Jesuit education—for us kids. He courageously gave all three of us girls up to St. Ignatius College Prep, though it was all the way downtown, and for two long years, he got up at 5:45 with Salvatore in order to drive him to Harlem and Foster in time to catch the shuttle bus to Loyloa Academy. And—believe it or not—he was almost never late for that bus!

He was tireless when that’s what it took to do something he believed in. He was tireless about helping out in the family businesses, where he worked at least part of the time from his earliest years in the back of a little store at Huron and Rockwell—or Urine and Rockwell, as they used to say it. He continued to work to the last few years of the tavern’s existence, when it was losing money, but Grandma couldn’t bear to let it go. He did that—even while commuting to his full time teaching job at College of DuPage, where he worked for 38 years.

Because he cared. And he knew his values.

Those values weren’t always easy to live with. When Connie asked him last year, “Dad, can I date?” Dad told her the same thing he told me and Trinity at that age: “Not till you’re sixteen.” And then when we turned sixteen, it was eighteen! As if!

When Connie then asked him, “Dad, can I have a drink?” he replied, sensibly, depends on what kind, and what time of day.” Then he went on to explain which liquor is appropriate for which occasion—red wine with pasta, and to strengthen your immune system. Black and Tan for cocktails. Bud, or Miller—ehhhh—only if all you want is a buzz.

Of course, we will miss every little thing he used to say, everything he did, and everything we did with him:

His lectures, which he sent out by podcast, for posterity.
His coaching, his soccer tips. His commentary on soccer games in progress.
Stella D’Oros in the morning, some of them dunked in his coffee. (take a breath if you need to)
Being reminded to kiss him hello.
His arguments—with friends, family, neighbors, colleagues, the village of River Forest-- Because at the end of the day, you always knew he cared.

Dad knew what was right—and he’d say so. Sometimes, his Calabrese passion unnerved new colleagues, who wondered what he was yelling about—but eventually they figured out that Mario’s yelling was nothing to be afraid of. It was the product of pure exuberance.

What drove that exuberance? His love for his family. His wish for everything good for his family. His commitment to keeping the family together.

My dad’s lottery dream was a Reda compound for all the family to share
* sons and daughters
* wife and brothers and sisters-in-law
* nieces and nephews
* the Ewarts, the Cimos, and the Duffys
* and everyone else we love. (At his request, Lisa’s buying a lotto ticket today!)

Even without a compound, Dad was a man with open arms. He loved having a place that people could come home to.

He was a traditionalist who was passionate about change, a groundbreaking professor who couldn’t install a light fixture, a conventional father who put his kids first, a believer in a Catholic education, a who defender the secular sphere.

He was a “wanna-be” computer-geek who loved gadgets; he owned one of the first cell phones to ever come out—it was as big a small suitcase, and he had to carry it around on his shoulder. Of course, since no one else had a cell, there were few people to call—except his brothers.

Mario knew how to appreciate people as they were and serve people where they were. He gave his nieces and nephews classic books for Christmas—but he also coached them in soccer.

Mario was a living library, too. One of our greatest losses in losing him is that we may never find the facts he had at hand, and we’ll never manage the perspectives he was so willing to share.

In an era when Dads were distant figures, Mario was involved in his children’s lives.

That’s what Mario Reda was about. I think that’s what he’s still about, now: he’s making a place for us to come home to. He’s getting everything ready for family.
(you can breathe here too) And some day, when we see him again, we will kiss him hello.

Euolgy Peggy F.J. Bradford, J.D. Ed.D

December 8, 2006

Dr. Mario Reda
819 Monroe
River Forest, IL 60305

Dear Mario:

This letter is written to extend my appreciation for the thirty-seven years of service you have provided to the College of DuPage. Dr. Reda you have contributed to the college community as a faculty member in various and creative ways. Also as I read your file, your journey began at the College of DuPage in 1969 as a full time faculty member. During your tenure with COD you undertook numerous projects such as the New York Times project whereby students were encouraged to read the newspaper daily, taught large lecture classes, and researched the use of Pod Casting in the classroom. Your love for your students, thirst for knowledge, and penchant for pushing the envelope to engage in meaningful dialogue are your trademarks.

Mario in your textbook, you noted that “Teaching is central to public sociology: students are our first public for they carry sociology into all walks of life. Academic sociology also needs the world … To recognize, learn from, and engage with public sociologies in different countries we should build bridges that span the world – level bridges with two-way traffic.” It is this type of thinking and teaching that made you stand apart from the faculty.

In the curriculum arena, you developed a course called Social Communication engaging many professional students and taking the time to interview each student to ensure the optimal group dynamics were present. Students have commented on your unique ability to share your lectures through “story telling”.

Your dedication and service goes beyond the classroom to include a commitment to serving COD through active participation on a number of committees including: the computer committee, marketing committee, divisional curriculum committee and athletics. In addition, I read you chartered the American Federation of Teachers chapter and chaired the Sociology department at COD.

Mario, I know you have frequently advised students outside the classroom to ensure they receive accurate and timely information. Your concerns are student-centered. In the past you have referred students to the writing and reading center, counseling center for personal issues and student activities. These acts are greatly appreciated by the college community.
Dr. Mario Reda
December 8, 2006
Page 2



As a person who has given service to others for four decades, inspired others to debate the issues of the day, and to embrace technology in the learning process the Social Science division takes this opportunity to recognize your dedication, creativity, and commitment to education and the students of District 509. Even though, we have only worked together for a year and a half, I know your absence from the college is felt by your students and colleagues.

As one Saluki to another, please accept this letter as a symbol of my appreciation to you. I look forward to your recovery and return to COD. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family during this holiday season.

Sincerely,




Peggy F.J. Bradford, J.D. Ed.D
Associate Dean, Social Sciences

Euolgy PETER BAGNUOLO

Professor, Doctor Mario Reda.

This was supposed to be the end of my essay-eulogy; I made it the beginning of a flashback instead.

We did not know it at the time, but we attended Wright College at the same time, I played baseball and turned down a pledging to join certain Fraternities because they would not accept my pal, who they thought was Jewish (He was not). I refused to join a bigoted Fraternity. Mario was a member of another fraternity, he later said, which would have taken us both. Too bad we did not know each other back then, It was only when I joined the faculty senate that we realized we were neighbors.

Many years ago, a close friend, Ted Cunningham, a neighbor in Oak Park and later, after we got to know each other, a member of my baseball team, my flag football team and I crossed a similar path. When I was a student at Wright College, he was a student right around the corner at St. Pat’s High so was Mario, at both. None of us knew, at the time, nor did I know when I began to attend the American Academy of Art that Ted was there and when he and I met at lunch one day we found out we were neighbors, he lived a few blocks away. He then joined my Flag football team and my baseball team. We became nearly inseparable. We played football and baseball, and double-dated and went to school together. Ted stood up in my wedding party, stayed overnight at my mom’s house the night before my wedding and we talked away the evening. Later, Ted became an art director and sent me illustration business. Then, at age 33-tragedy stuck-Leukemia. He and I also talked daily and more throughout his eight months of suffering before his death. His wife Connie, the same name as Mario’s daughter years, later, that the only time Ted forgot his suffering was when we talked. We talked about art, movies, sport’s cars, God and writing. Now, forty years later, was I caught in a Déjà vu?

Three guys, unaware our paths were crossing, over and over again-same neighborhood, same schools, same interests, same ideas, same politics, same names, and I spent the a similar period of time in phone conversations with each, throughout their last months on earth. We had, all three been together before.

Jung asked Einstein once about such Synchronistic events, were they coincidence or something else? Einstein who did not believe that God would shoot dice with the universe answered twice, with, “Jung, it is just God’s way of letting us know we are not alone,” and, later, “Jung, it is just God’s way of remaining anonymous.”

Through out the last 16 months God was there in Mario and my conversations, our lunches, our frequent emails and our visits to parties at each other’s houses. God was there in our hearts all this last few weeks and in our prayers. Tuesday evening Linda and I were out for a drive, we test-drove a new Lexus Sport car, an SC-430. I loved sports cars, always owned one, so did Mario, but not for the last, several years-thought I was getting too old for them. As we drove along Linda thought I was lost somewhere deep in thought, she asked how I liked the car, it was about 9:00 PM. I said, “Right now, as I am driving one of our mutual loves, sports cars, my dear pal Mario is trying to cross over into the realm of our God.” We crossed ourselves and we said a prayer. That was the last visit I had from my dear friend, colleague and supporter of more than thirty years- Déjà vu? No, just God’s way of letting us know we are not alone.

So Long for now Mario Reda, and God Bless, I have to stop because the tears are getting in my way. I will write the rest later.

Linda, my wife, and I are frequent party hosts and Mario, Lisa and often his children came to most of our parties. We would also talk by telephone and have lunch on occasion, before he became ill, therefore no sooner was he back from his doctor appointment in February 2006, he called and we spent an hour on the phone discussing his illness. He was told then he had “about” 3 months to live. He asked me to pray and see what I thought. I called him back the next day and told him he would not die in three months, or six, or nine or even twelve months, beyond that I could not see.

I was at the time and still am, writing several editorials and OpEd pieces per week, more for a Progressive online News Service, doing architectural projects for churches as well as some book cover illustration and fine art. In the year that followed Mario became my chief art and writing critic. We then began to talk virtually every day and often more than once a day and we did so for the better part of the last sixteen months. In addition we occasionally got together to have prayer sessions, after which I would assure him that he had at least one more year, beyond that, I repeated, God had dropped a curtain and I could not see past it. About that I lied, I knew summer of 2007 would be the departure date for Mario, but I could not bring myself to tell him, though he frequently asked me.

Mario exceeded that year by several months, from the time back when he was first diagnosed, in mid-February 2006 to this week in 2007. I had hopes he would pull out of the clutches of the disease, but my premonitions said spring or Summer 2007-I never told him that because someone else recklessly told him he would be healed and I did not want to crush his hopes. Whenever we spoke, which was often, I let him lead the conversation so we could talk about whatever he desired. Sometimes it was about his health, his future, his children and wife, sometimes it was about sports, but mostly, at least since I started writing online, we talked about my columns. Although I have Carte’ Blanche’ to write whatever I want, I write occasional humor but I wrote about mostly serious or satirical political matters. Mario, whatever I wrote, always had either an insight or sometimes a critique. He especially didn’t like what I was wearing in my by-line photo, western riding gear and let me know…often. We argued sometimes and sometimes we simply talked about the things and people we loved. He loved his family greatly and worried if they would be all right after he’d gone, “look in on them, for me,” He would say to me.

More than thirty years ago, when I walked onto campus for the first time on tenure track, I was coming directly from my position as Creative Director and CEO of an ad-agency, which had offices in Chicago and Oak Brook as well as a field office in California and a new contract in Las Vegas. I also had a small art gallery and still did occasional architectural projects. The faculty saw me as a corporate type and by the then administration as a future administrator-they were both wrong. That was something over which Mario and I argued often, “Why would you not want to be an administrator,” he would rant, as if only a fool would turn down such a chance, and I would always answer, ”I came here to teach, I have been administrating all of my life, I just want to teach.”
Then Dean Bill Gooch, tried to fuse all technology courses under my leadership and Mario joined in the march to pressure me to accept the job-I turned it down, as I turned down similar offers from Dr. Berg and later, through intermediaries our second president. I came to teach, and Mario wanted me to lead-I saw no one to lead, I did not like the direction in which the College was going and Mario and I clashed over that issue. Later he came ‘round more to my point of view, and so we argued about other things; the Majesterium of the Catholic Church and it’s Dogma, he defending Dogma, I always against structure in worshipping the God I knew as a God of Freedom, Mario thought that there needed to be structure, we disagreed. Eventually Mario saw my point of view but still would not turn his back on Dogma. When he became ill, we talked only about the will of God and seldom about Church Majesterium. I was assailing the new pope who supported the fascism of the Neo-cons, and Mario, though he enjoyed my columns battling the freedom crushing fascism that grips America, never spoke of my attacks on the pope.

Mario and I sat on the senate together for my first term, fought, and won many political battles together. In those days, the faculty senate was strong, Liberal and fearless-the administration was far less so. Mario and I shared a love of Government Service, art, music, writing, sports cars and Progressive Causes. I, was unbeaten Campaign Chair for the Democratic Party of Mayor J. Lanzillotti, and Mario wanted to run for congress. He called the Mayor, which I had just been elected, who though an underdog soundly defeated the Republican candidates in the year in which Reagan swept the nation. As a result, Mario wanted me to run his campaign-I was reluctant; my time was filled with my obligations to 22 employees and a dozen clients and offices in several locations some out of state. I helped for a while but had to resign, I was up to my ears.

I began to sell off my business interests and play the market. Mario thought I was crazy and we talked about market plays, but he never was interested in it, he just tried to listen as attentively as possible when I told him about my latest market adventures. Mario loved to talk and to analyze. We analyzed art, writing and films during the last 15 months and we did it almost very day of every week. When my columns were drawing readership from abroad the number of readers leaped from 140,000- a week to over 300,000 a week and at the same time, my art began to show up at London galleries and at the Society of Illustrators in Los Angeles, Mario was thrilled and filled with questions; Why did you make the background of Mother Nature so green? Why did you make Mother Nature so sexy, I have always seen her as an older woman? Why did you choose your wife to pose for her? What brand of paint do you use? Who was the model for your Cowboy art? Who posed for the American Native Braves? Why did you paint that Brave in that particular buckskin outfit? My answers would always spark new conversations. I never liked to intellectualize about my painting, I thought doing so weakened the spontaneity, but I went along with his curiosity and interest.

I had been taught, always to look for the good in people and never to gossip, to me and my family, gossip, especially about the defenseless and the dead was despicable, a sin of the worst type, and Mario and I agreed on that, so we never gossiped about anyone when we talked, the discussions were always about concepts, and mostly about God, not the church so much as God. I saw God and Organized Religions as opposing one another and my God was much like the God of Einstein, the Great Giver of the Laws of Physics, but with a personal love of his prophets. Mario thought they both served the same purpose-God and Majesterium.

When I immersed myself in Einstein, Gödel, Bohr, Equations and the quantum, light packets, tachyons, trying to tie them to God as the Great Engineer, Mario was fascinated, “You may find a scientific proof of the existence of God, one day soon,” he was fond of saying. “I may,” I answered, “only if He wishes me to.” Mario liked that comment. I do not think that in my lifetime I have ever met a person more curious than Mario Reda or one so dedicated to family. Everywhere he and Lisa went, to most of our parties, Beckett and Connie came along. They, along with my grandchildren are among the sweetest and best mannered children I have ever seen and both dearly devoted to their parents. Mario and Lisa were intensely devoted in return. They took great pride in the intellectual growth of Connie and Beckett. One of my favorite films of Peter O’Toole was Becket, the story of St. Thomas A’Beckett and oddly enough, Mario named his son after him.

In the year of his illness, Mario grew to become more of an observer than a doer, by necessity. Less than a month ago, he told me they were concerned that they were going to end his treatment-he confided, and for the first time since he was diagnosed, that he was scared. He had never mentioned it before, always during his illness his concerns and fears were over the future of his wife and children. He had a piece of jewelry designed for her, to show his gratitude for her caring of him in this time of illness. Shortly after his illness, we met in the parking lot of Queen of Heaven Mausoleum. There was a crucifix there and there were reported miracles occurring. He wanted to see if God would heal him spontaneously. We prayed for an hour. Then he wanted to see some of the stained glass and sculptures I had designed for the interior of the mausoleum. We went into the chapel and prayed some more, then we looked at some of the art but he did not want to stay, though he liked the windows and statues, it was a depressing place, he thought and he was right.

During our long year and one half, he was in the prayers of my wife and I daily, but I never saw a sign that he would be healed, and I never said anything about that to him or Lisa. It simply was not in the cards. God had other plans for them all, but I could not say anything and that was a heavy burden. I had made some small sacrifices for his healing, but alas, they were not enough, nor were our prayers. God wanted him for another job.

Good by my dear pal, you are in excellent hands, as you were in your marriage.
Your devoted pal, Pete Bagnuolo (Bagnolo).

plbagnolo@sbcglobal.net
http://bagnolosprophetics.blogspot.com/

Poem You'll Never Walk Alone

You'll Never Walk Alone
When you walk through a storm
hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.


-------------------------------------
You say the hill's too steep to climb
Climb it.
You say you'd like to see me try
Climbing.

You pick the place and I'll choose the time
And I'll climb
That hill in my own way.
Just wait a while for the right day.
And as I rise above the tree lines and the clouds
I look down, in the sound of the things you said today.

Fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd
Smiling.
Merciless the magistrate turns 'round
Frowning.

And who's the fool who wears the crown?
And go down,
in your own way
And every day is the right day
And as you rise above the fear-lines in the crowd
You look down, in the sound of the faces in the crowd

VIDEO YOUTUBE : Dr Mario Reda Funeral Part 1

VIDEO YOUTUBE : Dr Mario Reda Funeral Part 2

VIDEO YOUTUBE : Dr Mario Reda Funeral Part 3

VIDEO YOUTUBE : Dr Mario Reda Funeral Part 4