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In Memory
On Monday, October 22, I was driving my younger son, Jonathan, home from his travel team’s soccer practice. We were discussing the practice and “SIG” (stuff in general). While driving, my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I did know that “214” was a call from Dallas. As a rule, I don’t pick up calls from unrecognized callers; this time, I did. The caller identified herself as a friend of Sidney and Princess (his fiancée) and then the unbelievable happened.
She said, “Since you were coming in from out of town for the wedding (on October 27), I wanted to make sure you knew that Sidney died from a heart attack last Friday.” Was this a joke? Boy, Sidney, that was a good one, I thought. But, as she continued, it became apparent that this was not a sick Sidney joke (which I always thought was his trademark) but a painful truth. My 13 year old was now aware that something awful had happened; he wanted to know the details.
Though initially painful, I found telling him about Sidney to be helpful (almost therapeutic!) in my initial reaction to the news. I told Jon that Sidney had overcome lots of adversity in his life. He realized that life had not been always fair but always viewed life with a healthy sense of optimism. He felt that he could do anything that he wanted and that his limitation was his imagination. He had a swagger that was not driven by ego but by determination. He had a wisdom which had been shaped by his experiences and by his intellect and by his common sense. He had a sense of humor and a robust laugh that made almost all situations seem better. Yet, despite his humor, he took life, not himself, seriously.
I thought that Sidney was the embodiment of the complete Amherst experience. He enjoyed a spiritual independence that was tempered by his “African-Americanism” and by his physical challenges. He brought a thoughtful process to all that he considered. He appreciated the new and constantly re-evaluated the old. He reinvented himself, it seemed, on an annual basis in order to better absorb the resources and personalities of the area. He became (maybe he always was) passionate about the arts—particularly music. He turned his passion into his calling and his profession. And, in the end, he found peace. When he sent me a photo of Princess and him with a save-the-date note, I felt that Sidney had reached a certain level of fulfillment. I sensed a genuine excitement and satisfaction; everything was falling into place.
I am someone who will long remember his eyes looking over his wire-rimmed eyeglasses; they seemed to embrace and understand everything he saw. He was wiser than many of us during our Amherst years; he seemed to “get it”—whatever “it” was. He understood that each day brought a new challenge and a new opportunity. Now that he has gone, I know that I will miss him. I seemed to derive such comfort in knowing that he was in Dallas and available by phone or email.
As we pulled into our driveway, my son, who had patiently ridden and listened (without questions or interruptions—a major achievement for him) simply said, “Dad, just be happy that you knew him.” I am ... I AM!!!
Ken Glover ’74
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