Dear Friends,
On September 5,1999, Harry Lyman passed away. He did not go willingly. It was not that he was afraid of his own personal death or dissolution. Such matters were not of the slightest concern to him.
He took his passage from us as he took each moment that he lived, with curiosity, warmth, humor and love. Despite a wasting illnesss, that left him incapacitated. "Thank you dear", he would say even in his moments of greatest weakness for each thing, small or large, that was done for him. Or consolingly "I'm alright dear", when we winced at the evidence of his pain and discomfort.
At times, near the end, he would emerge from long periods of unresponsiveness with an eagerness to talk and communicate. He did not hear well, so we shouted into his ear. His talk was indistinct and seemed garbled because of ill fitting dentures, but somehow we learned to understand him.
He would regale us with comments, questions and humor that had us laughing without stop, sometimes uproariously. Typical was the time he remarked on the attractiveness of several women in the room. When, I inquired jokingly, "What about me Harry?", he looked in my direction and smiled, "You have some rough spots", he said.
He virtually never talked about his very hopeless physical condition or himself, although he periodically would insist on one more visit to the medical center, where he might find a solution to what was for him a very puzzling state of affairs. It seemed that he could not conceive that he was dying and if it were true, forever the activist, he wished to know why something couldn't be done about it.
As many of you are aware from reading Harold Dondis' column, he awoke one morning, a day or two before his death, looked directly at me and asked: "Shelby, do you have a good move?" He loved each moment of his life and the people in it too much to consider the possibility of leaving them. Each moment was part of an ongoing and happy adventure. At the end, he was 84 years old but Harry, I think we can all agree, was truly ageless.
The youngest of six children, a radiant and intelligent child, according to his 90 year old sister, he was doted on by his older siblings and by his mother, my grandmother, who herself had a rare love and passion for life. A romantic, she was fond of poetry and song. Like the wonderful Mikhail Tal, my uncle's heart was always filled with sunshine. Despite the poverty and struggle of immigrant families in those days, he seemed to have had, as the youngest, a relatively carefree existence. It is of some interest that Harry was an exceptional athlete. It was not easy to know this because, as we all know, he rarely talked about himself.
He was first of all a superb sprinter; his specialty the 220 yard dash, at Roxbury Memorial High School, in Dorchester, where he was co-captain of the track team. Apparently, he broke several citywide records before suffering a leg injury.
According to a former boyhood acquaintance, he was also an excellent baseball player. As an outfielder, he was considered by his Dorchester chums superior to Eddie Pellagrini, also from the neighborhood, who later played for the Boston Red Sox. Also, he was marbles champion of the City of Boston and a finalist in the city tennis championships for his age group.
Although, Harry played virtually not at all outside of New England, he was an exceptional chess talent, much better than his highest rating may indicate. Indeed, he had a rare feeling for the initiative and the dynamics of the game. He understood, as well as anyone, how certain kinds of positions compensated for a material disadvantage. It was no accident that at age 60, he defeated Arthur Bisguier and drew with Robert Byrne in New England tournaments.
On June 15 1915, Harry Lyman was born. Although he passed away 84 years later on September 5th of this year, my beloved uncle will always be with us. Michele and I are planning to have etched on his gravestone the FIDE motto:
'GENS UNA SUMMUS'
Literally, these words mean "we are all one nation or people" -- a fitting epitaph, I think, for a man whose embrace was large enough for all of us.