Memories of Berl

Delivered by Patricia Baranek

Let Me Go

When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little, but not for long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that once we shared
Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take
And each must go alone.
It's all part of the master plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go the friends we know.
Laugh at all the things we used to do
Miss me, but let me go.
When I am dead my dearest
Sing no sad songs for me
Plant thou no roses at my head
Nor shady cypress tree
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet
And if thou wilt remember
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not fear the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on as if in pain;
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Christina Rossetti

Mark Greenberg

• Berl was my dear and close friend – we shared intimate details of our lives most Sunday afternoons, when he happened to be passing through Toronto,  at his office at L’Espresso, where I would eat and drink coffee and he would stick to the coffee

  • And he was a friend to so many in the room here today and beyond

    • And THE MAJORITY  of us believed we were his best friend because of the way he related to us

• A person of giant intellect, an intellect that, despite his commitment to the gym, in many ways subsumed his physical body by its power and laser focus

  • Prodigious intellectual of high EQ who 

    • read widely    

    • connected widely and engaged intimately with people from all walks of life across ages and cultures

    • Cared widely  - for all in his orbit

  • And this combination of care, compassion, curiosity and prodigious intellect was his blessing and gift to others

    • And some times a curse to Berl

  • There is a majority of us in this room whose travails and misfortunes, ills and challenges were shared with him

    • And who  found THAT empathy, razor sharp analysis, advice and a boat load of instructions about what to do next

  • The one person for whom he was a lousy advisor and confidant and caregiver was B Schiff

    • He measured his BP assiduously and came up with 

      • One set of explanations, solutions and  interventions for when it was high

      • And another for when it was too low

        • Usually scientific and reasoned BUT NOT ALWAYS 

    • He felt bloated and declared himself gluten allergic/sensitive and never touch wheat again

    • He felt fat, and stopped eating – or CLAIMED TO

    • He found a lesion, and waited months to report it and get it seen

    • He made a decision to travel and be, if not isolated, separate from other humans AFTER his tumor recurred once

• AND THEN HE FOUND A STATE OF GRACE FOR HIMSELF

• Throughout Jade’s long and fluctuating journey, from infancy to relatively recently, Berl the neuroscientist by trade and cultural integrator and innovator by preference, ran the show

  • In a domain of uncertainty Berl read, he consulted, he thought and then decided

    •  And THEN he nudged and pushed and demanded and never let go until his opinion had been heard, and more often than not, heeded

  • And this was the pattern until fairly recently –preceding the final chapter  of his final illness, - when there was a seismic shift that was the prelude to a new Berl 

    • A Berl who DID let go

    • A Berl who kept his charm, charisma and curiosity but no longer needed to be in charge

    • A Berl who came to terms with the imperfections of the health care world and still could believe in it

    • A Berl who could reframe a disaster in his state of health as “SO INTERESTING”

    • A Berl who was excited, despite his difficulty in speaking, to write a piece with Patsy about the iniquity of the INSURANCE INDUSTRY

    • A Berl who trusted, and felt safe, and I believe, genuinely unafraid of what might come next

      •  A Berl who said, as he had innumerable times before, to me and I am sure to many of you – “WHAT WILL BE WILL BE HONEY B”

• OTHER IMAGES OF THAT LAST PERIOD THAT SPRING TO MIND

  • Berl telling me on the phone from Mexico that it was NOT a tumor recurrence – and trying to believe that himself

  • Berl talking about the lovely young paramedic whose name he knew and I have forgotten, who attended him on the Airvac plane on the way back to Toronto and who wanted to go to Medical School – and offering to help him get there

  • Berl, as he improved that first time, as the steroids kicked in and the targeted drugs started to work, organizing a thank you to those who helped him get back from Mexico – in the form of a gathering at the Soundstream fund raiser  - and giving specific instructions in exquisite detail as to how the evening should be organized, and who should sit next to who

    • And even believing he might get to the event himself

  • Berl in earnest discussion with Sunita, his wonderful NP, about her life, her family, her interests – even though he struggled to get the words out and be understood

  • Berl, after the initial improvement, experiencing the first overtly life threatening crisis in his course, being told how grim things were,  saying to the attending physician and neurosurgeon “ you discuss it among yourselves and with Dr Greenberg and make a decision” - and being prepared to live or die by that decision

  • Berl, rallying, trying, because it was INTERESTING, to understand the neuroanatomy that would  explain why he was seeing double 

  • Berl, as he sank again, moved to tears by the gathering of his family – and reaching out to Gissa

  • And Berl, in the throes of the complication that would take him, trying gamely with all his might, to overcome. – until CALM PREVAILED, and he slipped, in front of my eyes and those of his children and wife, out of this life – a life generously  lived and well beloved 

Sari Salmon Schiff

My name is Sari Salmon Schiff and I met Berl 50 years ago when I married his older brother David. The ‘bookend’ to this meeting occurred this winter in San miguel de Allende where we spent time at dinners, concerts and theatre all the while discussing life’s curious twists and turns. And then Berl’s own journey took a twist that plunged us into the Mexican health care system (a modern hospital and well-trained doctors) and the challenge of health insurance companies’ reticence to facilitate his medi-evac home to Toronto. Berl was intellectually sharp as ever and had plans to publish an exposee of insurance companies once he was recovered. 

This poem, full of simple truths, was written by Mário de Andrade in 1935. Andrade - one of the founders of Brazilian post-modernism. Like Berl, Andrade was a scholar and an essayist. Listen to his world view. Could this be Berl speaking? 

MY SOUL HAS A HAT 

Beautifully written by Mario de Andrade (San Paolo 1893-1945) Poet, novelist, essayist and musicologist. One of the founders of Brazilian modernism. 
__________________________

MY SOUL HAS A HAT 

I counted my years and realized that I have less time to live by, than I have lived so far. I feel like a child who won a pack of candies: at first he ate them with pleasure but when he realized that there was little left, he began to taste them intensely. I have no time for endless meetings where the statutes, rules, procedures and internal regulations are discussed, knowing that nothing will be done. I no longer have the patience to stand absurd people who, despite their chronological age, have not grown up. My time is too short: I want the essence, my spirit is in a hurry. I do not have much candy in the package anymore. 

I want to live next to humans, very realistic people who know how to laugh at their mistakes and who are not inflated by their own triumphs and who take responsibility for their actions. In this way, human dignity is defended and we live in truth and honesty. It is the essentials that make life useful. I want to surround myself with people who know how to touch the hearts of those whom hard strokes of life have learned to grow with sweet touches of the soul Yes, I'm in a hurry. I'm in a hurry to live with the intensity that only maturity can give. I do not intend to waste any of the remaining desserts. I am sure they will be exquisite, much more than those eaten so far. My goal is to reach the end satisfied and at peace with my loved ones and my conscience. We have two lives and the second begins when you realize you only have one    

Mário de Andrade at age 35, 1928