Kathy McEuen Harmon
2008 Recipient of the Lackner Award
Acceptance Speech
Once upon a time, in a Manhattan morning rain, I hailed a cab. “Cardinal Hayes High School, Grand Concourse, the Bronx, please.” The cabdriver responded, “I don’t go there, you’ll have to get somebody else”… This was throwing a tightly scheduled day into turmoil, and it was hardly a softly falling rain. I told him, “I am not getting out of your cab until you hear why we need to get there.” He then heard about the University of Dayton, one of the finest universities in the nation, a Catholic institution, founded by the Society of Mary. Through the generosity of so many, there are scholarships to assist so many. One is for students from high schools in Harlem, the Bronx, the South Bronx. I was meeting seniors, juniors and guidance counselors at these schools, and this scholarship would make it possible for young people, who most likely could not afford it, to attend UD by paying the tuition, meals, housing, and to send them home to New York City twice a year. “Now tell me you won’t take me there.” With time to spare, and charging no fare, we got there. The point is, our story is compelling. We cannot do our work alone, we can look at obstacles as opportunities, and the talents of many must be welcomed.
At Thanksgiving, dear friends recommended a book, the End of Faith, by Sam Harris. The gist of the book is that religion is the source of such great sorrow in the world, that people of faith, both moderate and extreme, threaten our very survival in this age of terror. We must aspire to reason, to an end of faith. As I was reading the book, I kept thinking back to the aftermath of hurricane Katrina. Our government, which is based on reason, failed us. Except for the US Coast Guard and the US Army Reserve, local, state and federal government failed us. Our media, which is full of rational people, have yet to apologize for the racist and biased coverage which I am convinced caused the loss of so many. Who responded to those in tearful need, the poor, those without shelter, in the words of the psalmist, in our American South? People of faith. There have been so many wonderful times in my past fifteen years at UD, but it was one of the finest to see our students work with such commitment and reverence in service to our Gulf Coast communities. They lifted debris, made even heavier by the weight of memory, and by the weight of water, water from the Gulf and water from tears. They lifted spirits, in the midst of a devastation I pray they may never witness again.
At the end of April, I received a call from Carin Andrews. Our dear Fr. Matt Kohmescher was at the very end. Hospice was with him and it was but a matter of time. I flew to Mercy Siena. Arriving at 9:30 in the evening, Fr. Matt was so still - eyes closed, no movement. The presence of the Hospice nurse was the only indication that he was still with us. The nurse and I chatted for a while, and as is the case with all those affiliated with Hospice, she was the personification of an angel. Finally, she asked if I were going to chat with Matt. What do you say to a man with whom you have spoken, about anything and everything, each work day since January 2002? What do you say to a man who has been such a powerful influence upon generations of UD students? What do you say to a man who introduced you to the wilds of Scotland and Hamish MacBeth through the stories of M.C. Beaton, and the glories of our national parks through the stories of Nevada Barr? What do you say to a man who is your friend, and who is at this place in his life?
If you are from Kentucky and it is the last Wednesday in April, just prior to the first Saturday in May, you say, “Fr. Matt, it’s me, Kathy. The day after tomorrow is the Derby party after work. Shane White is going to sing and has the barbeque ready, I didn’t have to buy any bourbon for the mint juleps because so many people gave me bottles last Christmas, and don’t worry about the $5 to pick a horse - we’ve got you covered. We will raise a parting glass to you, because we know how much you have loved this party. We will miss you and we love you.” Fr. Matt’s eyes flew open and he uttered a sound and he startled the nurse and me. “What kind of party IS that?” she asked. Ever mindful of the University’s reputation, I responded that it’s just a get-together to celebrate spring, like we do in Kentucky. She then gave a beautiful gift, by asking if I heard what he said. Fr. Matt’s final word was ‘Good.’
When I said yes to the opportunity to become a Marianist Educational Associate, I wasn’t certain what it entailed and certainly did not know that the year of formation began in Honolulu and ended in Europe. That was just fine with me. In looking over the Honolulu schedule, prepared by Bro. Ray, Bro. Tom, Fr. Paul, Fr. Heft and Judy Keyes. I noticed it was terribly full, from morning to night. “Bro. Ray, your schedule is ok, but when am I supposed to see Waikiki?” “The classrooms at Chaminade all have windows” was his dry reply…..Despite Bro. Ray, somehow we managed to squeeze in some fun, community building time - bringing our furniture out onto the balcony to enjoy a few beverages and conversation, until the softest hours of those gentle Honolulu nights. It was in Hawaii that I began to truly understand the global mission in which the Marianists are so deeply engaged. It was in Europe that I began to truly understand the legacy of Chaminade. We visited Rome - bellisima. We visited France - almost as beautiful as Kentucky. We visited Spain - the land of mystics, music and mariners. It was on this journey, along the cobbled and narrow streets of Bordeaux, that I came to more fully understand Chaminade’s timeless relevance and gift to us in our time. For it was in his own age of terror, when his society had descended to degradation and violence, that his vision and mission became clear. It required tremendous courage and commitment. He knew he could not do it alone, the most terrifying obstacles became opportunities and to achieve his mission, the talents and strengths of many were necessary. In this, our current age of terror, we need more people of faith. In the words of one of the finest bass guitarists ever, Bootsy Collins, from Cincinnati, “having faith is not an option, you know we must.” We need more people of faith who deeply value and tirelessly work to bring about justice, build community, speak and act in a manner always inclusive. Our very survival depends upon it.
Then there is Mary. Growing up in the Protestant tradition, Mary appeared in the Nativity tableau and disappeared for 364 days. It has been quite a journey of revelation to learn how she can serve as a model in our life. One thing I do know, as do all mothers, including Mary: as difficult as it is to bring a child into the world, it is that much more difficult to let our child go into the world. And so, thousands of mothers and fathers have let their children come to us. Here they have the opportunity to learn, within an environment of the highest academic expectation, within a community of caring and collaboration and fun. In meeting with so many students, I know that some do not feel a part of this community. Often, the reasons have to do with issues surrounding culture, race, sexuality and money. We have much yet to do. However, we have this beautiful obligation to pass on to our students the legacy of Chaminade, so that when they leave us, they are prepared to enter the world community, possessing knowledge, courage, commitment, always working toward justice, always acting and speaking with words of inclusion, knowing that Mary is available, with wisdom and love.
Always delightful to me are the surprising connections that have at their source, the University of Dayton. When I told my father of this honor, it jogged his memory back seventy years, to when he was a boy of eleven. He was playing on a mountain top near his home in West Virginia, when a plane flew so low over the boys’ heads that they knew something was wrong. They ran home to tell their mothers, and soon the local newspaper was out with an extra edition about a plane that crashed in a cornfield just outside of town. The pilot was Mary Edith Lackner. She was a member of the Ninety Niners, a group of 99 women, licensed pilots, organized in 1929, by Amelia Earhart. Seventy years later, the boy’s daughter was being honored by an award bearing the Lackner name, through the University of Dayton, in the city which is the birthplace of aviation. So enchanting are the connections and surprises in life.
With gratitude to the Lackner family, for the award attached to this honor, I wish to designate $2500 to the Leadership UD Scholarship. Gwen Klemmer had the most beautiful idea, that those of us who participated in Leadership UD could establish and endow a scholarship, to recognize and assist a student who reflects that which is the best of UD - both academically and in service of leadership to our community. I wish to designate $2500 to the Teresa Enneking Kohmescher Scholarship. This scholarship Fr. Matt established, in memory of his mother, who raised her children alone, during the Depression.
This now becomes a litany, a prayer of thanksgiving. For my daughter, Vanessa. For my brother, Tom, his wife, Susan and my nephew, Sean. For my parents, George and Yvonne McEuen, who could not be here tonight, but are here, always inspiring, and with never ending support. For my son, Daniel, who could not be here, in deference to his training at Ft. Bragg, for our nation’s Special Forces. For my precious friends. For my colleagues in Enrollment Management and throughout the University. For the wonderful people who serve our families within our Office of Financial Aid, often under difficult circumstances. For our students and alumni. For the Marianist family - the brothers, priests, sisters, lay members and Marianist Educational Associates. For our work. For this Flyer Basketball season (especially the first part). For this presidential election year. Finally, in my lifetime, the presidential contest looks a little bit like the rest of us.
This University has given me opportunities of which I never dreamed, responsibilities for which I strive to carry well, friends who are treasures. If there is such a thing as having too much fun, the University has given me that as well. I end by borrowing and twisting the words of Toni Morrison, whose majestic gift of language I cannot even dream to approximate:
I am happily haunted by those who have come before me. I am daunted by the brilliance and gifts of all in this room. With joyous anticipation I look forward to what is yet to come.
With the deepest gratitude and appreciation to you all, my family, my friends, my colleagues, I thank you for sharing this honor and this evening, which for me is truly, a moment of grace.