Coincidences

The other day, Alan Rozinsky '62, who with his wife Bobbie is soon to retire to Florida, ending decades of residence on campus and two teaching careers so illustrious they have recently been honored with the Alumni Order of Old Farms, handed me an envelope.  Among the things in it was a tribute to legendary English teacher Sid Clark written by one of his former students, Thomas Steinbeck.  Steinbeck tells the story of over-hearing Mr. Clark say to a stranger who had seemed to question the wisdom of Sid's career choice: "I'm always deeply impressed with those people who can see what is before them; happily I've always been blessed with the ability to see all the rest."

Young Thom was so taken by that statement that he wrote it in bold on the inside cover of his binder during French class.  Years later, when Thom had written a draft of a play, he presented to his father for his review, bound in that same AOF binder.  The father's first question was not about the play but about the quotation inscribed in the binder.  When Thom related the origin of the inscription, his father said "I know Sidney Clark.  He was your English teacher," and headed for his own voluminous library.  Soon, Thom's father produced a dusty tome and told him he would find the quotation on a certain page.  Thom soon discovered that Sid had been quoting Euclid, and the full quotation reads; "I am ever profoundly awed by those wise beings that can see plainly what stands before them.  Happily, the gods have blessed me with the ability to see all the rest."

When Thom expressed his amazement that his father could make that connection and remember the book, his father told him to check the flyleaf, where he found "a yellowing Avon Old Farms library bookplate with Sidney Clark's name written at the bottom."  It seems that Sid had loaned the book to Thom's father, who had yet to return it.  For my money, this would be an interesting story if it ended here, but by now you'll have guessed that Thom's father's name was John and that he was himself adept at turning a phrase.
So why relate this story?  Have I sacrificed the eloquence of Thom's tribute to Sid Clark in favor of an anecdote about an interesting coincidence made more interesting by the fact that one of the parties is a famous author?  To me, the story speaks to the existence of a small community of Men of Letters, of which Sid Clark was definitely a member.  It reminds me of a similar story involving a different Avon alumnus.  One of my own English teachers once told of accompanying a friend to dinner at the home of a particularly highly-regarded and long-tenured professor of English at Yale.  When after dinner the professor made a comment about the fascinating lives that words seemed to lead, my teacher knew he had once heard another of his teachers say very much the same thing.  This was the 1970s, but my teacher asked if the professor might remember a particular student who would have been at Yale just after World War II.  Despite the intervening years, the professor did remember his old student - my teacher's teacher.  He was Eddie Custer, AOF '43.