Tribute to Neil Ender
(4/23/02)
On Monday, March 11, I worked all day to finish my book on the classical Indian philosopher, Shankara. I had been working on the book for many months, and I was very glad to have completed it. That night, I was going over the manuscript, cleaning up odds and ends, when the phone on my desk rang. It was Neil. I said something like, “Hey, what’s happening?,” and Neil said, “It’s bad.” He then told me that Steve Ryan had collapsed with a massive brain hemorrhage, was in the hospital, and was “not expected to live.” I was numbed with shock and later overcome by grief. Steve died on March 12, and we all know what happened over the following days during Steve’s wake and funeral.
Over the next two-and-a-half weeks I saw Neil and spoke with him by phone frequently. I saw him last on the afternoon of Sunday, March 24, and my last phone conversation with him was the next day, Monday, March 25. I had called him to ask him about the Steve Ryan version of a rum and coke. I was planning on saying something about that in my eulogy for Steve, which the Senate heard on Tuesday, March 26.
About mid-day on Friday, March 29 – “Good Friday” for Western Christians – I received a message on my voice mail from Peter Helff asking me to call him as soon as possible. I phoned Peter immediately, but his line was busy. I tried several more times, and the line continued to be busy. While waiting to call Peter again, my phone rang. The caller said, “George, this is Bob Ender.” And so I learned, from Neil’s oldest son, Bob, with whom I was speaking for the first time, that Neil had died of a heart attack at about 10:30 that morning (only two weeks and three days after Steve Ryan’s death).
Many of us – probably most of us here in the Senate – know of Neil’s many accomplishments. I will mention only some of them today.
After serving in the United States Navy in the 1950s, Neil earned his Bachelor of Science degree in Mathematics at Manhattan College (where, rumor has it, he acquired a strong liking for Manhattans on the rocks). Later, he earned a Master of Arts degree in Mathematics Education from New York University and a Master of Science degree in Computer Science from the Stevens Institute of Technology. He was an adjunct instructor in mathematics at Hunter College from 1962 through 1967 and an assistant professor of mathematics at Manhattan College from 1958 through 1968. Thereafter, he came to Bergen Community College where, in due course, he rose to the rank of professor of mathematics and computer science and came, in the course of time, to exercise a profound – indeed, omnipresent – influence on the life of the college.
Neil was a founding member of the BCC mathematics program. A specialist in statistics, he taught and taught well all levels of mathematics, from arithmetic through calculus. He also contributed substantially to the development of the BCC computer science program during the 1980s and 1990s.
For more than a generation, Neil Ender was the (not “a”) leader of the BCC faculty. He provided academic leadership to this college through his excellent classroom teaching, through his service on countless college committees, and through his 27-year chairmanship of the BCC Faculty Senate (1973-2000). He also provided political and professional leadership through his representation of the faculty as President of the BCC Faculty Association, a position to which he was elected again and again for a period of thirty years (1970-2000).
Upon his retirement from the college in January 2001, the Senate presented him with a Certificate of Appreciation in recognition of his strong leadership of and dedication to this body. Subsequently, in the spring of 2001, Neil was named Professor Emeritus by the BCC Board of Trustees. He was nominated for that honor by two of the college’s academic divisions, the Division of Arts and Humanities and the Division of Business, Mathematics, and Social Sciences. I believe that he is thus far the only faculty member so nominated by more than one division.
Dedicating himself to the general welfare of faculty and students, Neil Ender expended almost all of his non-teaching time on the affairs and problems of the BCC Faculty Senate and the BCC Faculty Association, thereby making possible a college environment within which both faculty and students were enabled to thrive in their intellectual and professional pursuits. No member of the BCC faculty has contributed more to the strength, the quality, and the overall well-being of this college community.
During the week or so following Neil’s death, I found that I was in the grip of a paralyzing grief. I was unable to speak – or at least to speak meaningfully – of what had happened. I was continually on the verge of tears, and I frequently slipped over that verge. Following Neil’s funeral on Wednesday, April 3, there was a gathering hosted by his family at Biagio’s Restaurant. There came a time during that gathering when people were invited to share their thoughts and feelings about Neil. A few of his children did so, as did several of his friends from outside of the college. Our colleagues, Fred Prisco, Randy Forsstrom, Peter Helff, and Marj Webster stood up and spoke of their affection and admiration for our departed friend. All of the presentations were uplifting, seasoned with humor, touching. Neil’s family expressed great confidence that Neil had passed from this life into the life of heavenly glory. I, too, want to believe – I do believe – that Neil is still alive and well on a higher plane of being. But that day, when it seemed that “my turn” to speak had come, I could not rise. I was so overwhelmed by a sense of loss – my loss – that I did not think that I could say anything that would be at all uplifting. I thought that I would burst out crying or that I would say something too much on the dark side of sorrow and bereavement. So I kept quiet and waited for today.
Neil, of course, was a friend to me. But, as many know, he was a fatherly man. He and his wife, Joan, had nine children, and they have fourteen grandchildren. I related to Neil, not just as a colleague, not even as an older brother, but, in a real sense, as a father. He accepted me on that basis and frequently played the role that he sensed I needed him to play. His maturity, his warmth, his kindness, his worldly wisdom, his good humor were all aspects of this “father” I came to love.
Needless to say, I have had difficulty regaining my sense of humor as a result of the trauma of these recent weeks. However, I would like to mention something that someone said at Neil’s wake. As mourners filed by the coffin, there came a moment when the former president of BCC, Dr. José Lopez-Isa, approached to pay his respects. Over the years, Neil and José had had many disputes. At the wake, as Dr. Lopez-Isa moved past the coffin, someone commented that when Neil did not jump up with an argument for José, it was finally certain that our dear friend was truly gone.
Both Neil and I shared a love of country music. One of Neil’s favorites was George Jones. Here’s a George Jones song that expresses my feeling – and perhaps the feeling of many of us - about Neil’s departure.