One main emphasis of his teaching was in physical education, and the effects of it were felt neighborhood wide. He organized leagues of all the neighborhood kids for many different sports, from football to 500, in which he drew up rosters, taught the finer points of the rules (even giving quizzes on the subject with candy-bar prizes), and refereed games. Each sport even had a championship, and the season would end with a party (food paid for out of his allowance) and the bestowing of individual certificates of achievement (no Microsoft Word templates here–he wrote each one by hand with his calligraphy pen, including all the curlicue borders, and affixed a metal foil seal).

He had other passions besides sports in which he attempted to inculcate us. He would make up new games that were meant for mental stimulation as much as diversion. Some were simple and required almost nothing (one I recalled just the other day: it involved one player naming a book (here I suppose a stocked bookcase was helpful), the other describing what it was about, and the first player then having to guess if the second had actually read the book. We didn’t play this game very much, because the first time we did, he named “The Chocolate War”; I claimed to have read it, but he disputed this based on my characterization of it. I just checked this book out of the library for my teenage son, and he confirmed the part of the book that I recalled. So, I did read this book, Thomas, just not very well).

Other games were far more elaborate, and involved boards and game pieces all carefully drawn on, and cut out of, poster board. One was a bird migration game, where each player sought to get his flock safely south for the winter, past the predators, hunters, and geographical hazards. The game with the greatest success (in terms of how often we played it) was an African safari game, with all the rules of movements of the animals (from lions, cheetahs and hyenas on the predator side, to antelope and wildebeest on the prey side) developed after careful research and study.

As any teacher will tell you, there is a gap (sometimes yawning Grand Canyon wide) between what the teacher teaches, and what the student learns. And even the best student will at times observe rather than emulate the teacher. So, what did I learn from my brother, in the observational sense? I learned the importance of focus, a quality becoming ever scarcer in our blackberry-iPhone-facebook world. Thomas brought that focus to everything he did, and it still manifests itself in his personal dealings. I’m sure everyone reading this can attest to being the object and beneficiary of that focus when spending time with him, and to the difficulty in getting him to answer the phone (when that focus is on someone or something else).

I also learned about the importance of passion. Thomas commits himself fully to the projects he undertakes, without reserve. His passion was felt by the kids learning how to play football as much as by siblings arguing whether disabled golfers should be allowed to use carts on the PGA tour. I’m certain his students in Cameroon noticed it, and responded to it, studying harder and learning far more than the kids with more average teachers.

But the most important thing I learned was perseverance, a quality which is essential to any successful endeavor. Some may gently mock its extreme manifestation (Thomas once drove to six record stores looking for a particular Paul Simon disc), but the iron of his persistence is evident in everything–his drawings (once, when drawing together, i quickly sketched a bird; he compared my poor drawing to his excellent one and said the difference between them was time), his birding (a passion which requires one to stand motionless for long stretches), and his work (two words: Pet Town).

Looking back, I was fortunate to be his student for such a long time. His more official students only had him for a few years. Here’s looking forward to another half century.

George Fitz-Hugh

Happy Birthday! You are a very sensitive, thoughtful and intelligent individual. I loved reading your website and all the wonderful comments about you. I have enjoyed all the times you have spent with our family. You’re very calm like the ocean. The letter you wrote to our family after my mother’s funeral was so heartfelt and beautiful. I still have it and think it’s one of the most beautiful things I have read. You have a very nice family. Noah is so sweet and cute and bright. Cheers to a long life and many great years to come. You’re life has just begun. I’m really looking forward to Thanksgiving!

Love,
Michele

Your other birthday tributes have been to your successes and brilliance in multiple domains. And, indeed your life makes such a wonderful coherent linear story, looking back through 50 years. But a varied life rarely looks so linear facing forward. What I have appreciated most is your deep understanding of failures and loss and thriving nonetheless, and a quality my Finnish friends call “sisu”. At critical hard times, you have helped me through–both indirectly and directly–, as I am sure you have also helped family and other friends as well. Thank you! May the next 50 years be downhill after an uphill climb–skiing down the mountain, flying, exhilarated, and turning as you will.