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/
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