Browse memories and stories in celebration of Gary, and contribute your own below. If you have photos you would like posted, please e-mail it-communications@northwestern.edu along with a short description of the photo.
Celebrate Gary
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I’ve been struggling with what to say on this page, so I’m going to put what I said at the memorial today.
It was a few months after I started at the Collaboratory six years ago that Gary and I had to take a trip to Springfield for a meeting. On the 4 hour trip down, Gary learned that my dad was a chef and about my unnatural obsession with food. Little did I know that I had found a partner in crime. He asked if I had ever had tried the Springfield delicacy known as a “horseshoe.” I replied that I hadn’t and he excitedly told me all about it. A piece of toast, covered with the meat of your choice, covered in fries, covered in cheese sauce. He needed to say no more. After our meeting, we went straight to the pub that served this monstrosity. I had a hamburger horseshoe, and I think Gary did, too. It was so horrible, in a totally awesome way. I took a picture of it, because I love remembering meals, which Gary found highly amusing. This began a tradition, Where Gary and I would find the local specialty, no matter how ridiculous, order it, take a picture of it and of course, eat it. On another trip to Springfield, we stopped in Gardner, Illinois, at some diner where we were served some fantastically greasy meatloaf by a woman we could see smoking in the kitchen, and where Gary tried to convince me to buy one of the various black lacquered Elvis clocks on the wall that were for sale. I have pictures of the grinders and the cheese steak sandwiches we ate in Philadelphia, and the crab we had in San Francisco. Even locally, Gary made sure I had tried the burger at Cross-Rhodes, and the barbecue at Hecky’s. He was even more excited than most to look at all of my pictures of food after I came back from trips. I mean, he wasn’t even there, he didn’t even eat it, and he was excited for me that I did eat it.
With this same unencumbered passion, Gary got me as excited about the future of technology in education as he did about rib tips. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I can only hope to one day have half the energy and vision that Gary did to make education for children as engaging and transformative as we hoped it could be. He was officially my boss, but in reality, he was one of the greatest mentors I ever had.
Once, after Gary dropped me off at my house after a meeting downtown, he decided to eat a couple of blocks from my house at a place that has the classy name of “The Chicken Hut.” It has this huge grill where they cook like 30 whole chickens at a time and serve all kinds of bad-for-you sides. The next day at work, Gary excitedly asked me if I had ever eaten at “The Hut” and I admitted to him that I hadn’t. He reacted with shock and insisted I had to try it. In fact, he insisted for about for pretty much months afterward. The thing is, I never had the heart to tell him that I started eating vegetarian. Anyhow, it’s Collaboratory tradition to take the birthday person out to lunch to the establishment of their choice. This past April, on the weekend after Gary’s birthday, I walked into the Chicken Hut and ordered a 1/4 chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. You’re right, Gary …. it was pretty darn good. I’ll miss you.
I will always remember Gary as a brilliant and caring person. His enthusiasm and focus on his projects always encouraged those with whom he worked to be as excited about their success as he was. He expressed that same enthusiasm about his family and was genuinely interested in mine. When he stopped by my office our conversation always started with him telling me about what exciting things Julia, Jared or Michelle were involved in or sharing stories of their interests. He never failed to ask about my family. Since our daughters were at the same year in college there were always interesting stories to share. Gary was a very special person who sometimes surprised all of us with the “unexpected”. For all his brilliance; he also had a warmth that touched us all. I will always remember him running down a muddy hill with a big smile on his face in order to get to our Strategic Planning dinner “faster” while all his colleagues were shouting “No, don’t do it MUD”. Being with us was what really mattered to him.
This is the second time I have posted now. It is very helpful to have a place to share thoughts and feelings about Gary’s passing.
I find myself still having the urge to talk to Gary, to ask him his opinions, to
hear what exciting developments are going on. Last evening, for some reason,
this hit me particularly hard and I wondered if over time, this urge would
disappear. How do you talk to someone who can’t hear you?? Then, I realized
with relief, that I didn’t want the urge to talk to Gary to go away. I realized that
all I had to do was talk to him as if he was there - and listen, because he
really is with us in spirit. And through his spirit, his guidance and energy lives
on in each one of us.
Lucy Fortson
I still look for Gary in the locker room at SPAC every time I go there. After getting to know one another while working on several projects and on the UCIT, it was in the locker room that we held our more recent collaborations. It was there that I learned of developments in IT and sought his counsel on issues I was involved with — counsel that was always thoughtful and valuable. I miss him.
I too was deeply saddened by the loss of Gary. His friends in the Northwestern community have paid great tribute to his life and spirit.
I too wanted to find a way and venue in which I could adequately express what Dr. Greenberg meant in my life and career. It just so happens that I am Senior Editor for District Administration Magazine, a monthly publication read by more than 70,000 US school district leaders. I used my March 2008 column to honor Gary Greenberg.
The entire article, “Please Say Thank You,” is now available online at http://tinyurl.com/2qdozk
Everyone,
My children and I greatly appreciate your beautiful comments and memories, and we take a lot of comfort in reading them every day.
Gary’s wife Michelle