The Silver Linings

Terry, my mother, my sister, our family, and friends will never be able to understand or accept losing our two favorite people, especially within 19 days of each other.

But, we can tell Norman’s jokes, if we can remember them and (even harder) tell them as well as he did. And, we can eat and enjoy every single morsel of food, especially if it involves peanut butter and/or chocolate.

The man even ate Iguana once. My parents were vacationing in Mexico and at dinner one night my father ordered the #7, not knowing what it was. He told me he had said to the waiter, “This meat is very good! What is it?” The waiter said, “Iguana.” My father said, “It tastes like chicken!” I’m not sure if he kept it down, but he was an adventuresome eater who truly savored food, as well as family, friends, and life.

And, we can honor Paul by dancing like no one’s looking, telling jokes, laughing, knowing not to take ourselves too seriously, being present and in the moment, learning and trying new things such as whittling, playing the banjo, and cutting down a dead tree with a chainsaw from inside a rowboat in the middle of a pond (well, perhaps that’s not such a great example! Mom, it never happened!)

Paul wasn’t afraid to live life. He and Terry hiked mountains, went caving, traveled the world, and enjoyed every single thing they did together; even splitting firewood with an ax for the wood-burning stove that warmed their home.

When Paul decided he wanted to learn how to ski, he went to the top of a mountain in Utah. He didn’t waste time on “bunny hills.”  There are many more things I could say, but I will keep my promise that I’d never tell my mother about them.

We can also strive to quietly achieve at least one or two of Paul’s qualities of which there are too many to list, but very few people innately possess. He was kind, gentle, humble, non-judgmental, generous, funny, knew what the meaning of the word “fair” was, and diplomatically tried to make the world a more fair and better place. He was that rare person we were all lucky enough to know and will never forget.

Paul’s friends and colleagues in Indiana would like to hear from his friends, family, and classmates. Only you have the insight into what it was like growing up with Paul.

I was much younger than Paul, and much, much younger than Beth, so I don’t remember much, except that I thought he was really cool. And he had the best hair. And, he was the only person I’ve ever known who could ride a unicycle around the block while juggling.

Please read the message below and respond directly to Jesse Kharbanda

Share Your Reflections, and Learn More

If you would like us to add a tribute that you’ve written about Paul’s life or have any thoughts or questions about the Paul M. Chase Memorial Prize, please reach Jesse Kharbanda, Executive Director of the Hoosier Environmental Council, at  jkharbanda@hecweb.org

Contributions to the Paul M. Chase Memorial Prize can be made at:

hecweb.org/paulchase

Thank you,

Terry Briner, and the rest of Paul’s family
Home » Paul Chase Prize

Paul Chase Prize

Paul Chase was a great advocate, lawyer, son, partner, brother, uncle, cousin, and friend.   In his more than thirty year career as a lawyer and advocate, Paul stood up for the chronically ill, the disabled, the elderly, and the financially struggling.   He advanced the causes of affordable energy, climate change action, civil rights, consumer rights, health care access & affordability, and renewable power.   Paul’s remarkable abilities, character, humor, and warmth were widely appreciated by the entire breath of the Indiana public interest community (as seen by the tributes below), including our organization. Paul, our treasured personal friend and professional colleague, was tragically taken from us, due to a car accident, on June 25, 2014.

In celebration of the life of a true champion of social justice, the Hoosier Environmental Council has established the Paul M. Chase Memorial Prize.

HEC aspires for the Memorial Prize to be not only an annual honor to a worthy young Hoosier who follows in Paul’s footsteps, but a fund for a modest annual scholarship.    We are very thankful that this Memorial Prize has the blessing of Paul’s beloved partner, Terry, and that our announcement of this honor at Paul’s memorial service on July 2nd provided comfort to Paul’s family overall.

If you would like to donate to the scholarship fund, please go to our Donation page and write “Chase Memorial Prize” in the comments box of the Donation page.   If you would like to give a general gift to HEC in memory of Paul, please write “in memory of Paul Chase” in the comments box. In either case, we will notify the Chase Family of your thoughtfulness and your generosity.

Learn More About Paul’s Life and His Great Impact

Our treasured friend

Fran Quigley, a law professor and long-time advocate for social justice, wrote a tribute in the Indianapolis Star, and Shelia Suess Kennedy, a prominent political commentator and law professor, wrote a piece about Paul here. John Cardwell and Nancy Griffin, champions for health care access and affordability, write of Paul in the Indianapolis Star.   Mike Leppert, long engaged in the Indiana political scene, shares his thoughts about Paul.   Many mini-tributes for Paul can be found at the Shalom Memorial Funeral Home page as well as in this Indianapolis Stararticle.

 

Share Your Reflections, and Learn More

If you would like us to add a tribute that you’ve written about Paul’s life, write to us at comments@hecweb.org, Subject: Paul Chase.
If have any thoughts or questions about the Paul M. Chase Memorial Prize, please reach Jesse Kharbanda, Executive Director of the Hoosier Environmental Council, at jkharbanda@hecweb.org.

Cruel Summer

 

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At 7:30 P.M. last night, Wednesday, June 25th, 2014, everything I’ve ever believed in, hoped for, or placed my faith into was shattered.

I received a  phone call from Richard who had left for Florida at 3:00 A.M. with his brother, David, to help their parents move into a new condo.

When Richard called I had just returned home from the hardware store after having coffee with my friend, Alyson.

 

He told me to sit down, so I sat on the garage steps. He said that he had the most  horrible news to tell me. I asked him if my mother was okay. Was it my sister?

“No, it’s Paul,” he said.

“My brother? He’ll be okay, right?”

“No, he was killed in a car accident.”

I yelled at him that he was making it up. I told him he was lying. I told him it wasn’t true and  then I hung up. I ran into the house from the garage, up the stairs and back down again. I heard a sound that I had never heard before. It was coming from me.

My son Lucas and his friend, Robert, came running to find me to see what was wrong.

Without thinking, I repeated what Richard had just told me. I remember hearing Lucas smash something. I don’t know what it was, as if it even mattered. I didn’t care. He had every right to do whatever he needed to do at the moment.

Robert left just as Veronica walked in with her boyfriend, Aaron. Richard had called her, too, even though I didn’t want him to because she’d have to drive home after hearing about her Uncle Paul.

Feeling guilty for not being able to comfort my own children, I ran outside. I heard that sound again. It was otherworldly; a combination of a wail, a scream, a cry, and a moan. I fell to my knees and asked God how he could take away my father and now my brother in less than three weeks.

Not that it made it any easier for us, but my 82-year-old father had become handicapped over the years.The lung cancer he had only recently been diagnosed with was shrinking, and we went out to celebrate his clean CT scans. Then, on Friday, June 6th, 2014, his heart suddenly gave out as he walked into the house with my Mother, looking forward to eating the Burger King and Duncan Donuts they had just bought.

But my brother? He was 58. He had a great life. He was in love with Terry, his life-partner of  38 years. Paul was the favorite child. Terry is #2.

Paul deserved to be the favorite child. He was perfect. He was gorgeous. He could grow an afro that defied gravity, and a garden that came alive in perfect harmony. He was smart, helpful, humble, caring, generous, creative and talented in so many ways, and had a soothing voice that instantly made me feel safe from the moment I was born.

My mother referred to Paul as a “Professional Do-Gooder” because he gave up being a partner in my father’s law practice in Chicago to lobby on behalf of non-profit organizations, such as groups that supported people living with HIV/AIDS,  AARP,  and, most recently, Covering Kids & Families of Indiana, to improve healthcare access for everyone.

Just last Sunday (four days ago) he had driven here from Nashville, Indiana. We knew he could only stay one night because he had a conference in Indianapolis early Tuesday morning, but he came to go over a few legal matters with my mother.

When he arrived, he went with Beth, Sam, my Mother, and me to the cemetery to visit my father. I wasn’t sure I was ready to go to the cemetery so soon after burying my father, but knowing Paul would be there gave me the confidence to get through it. It wasn’t easy, but it ended up being comforting.

I don’t know why I didn’t get to say goodbye to Paul on Monday, like I usually do. He said he had sent me a text so I could come over to Mom’s to say good-bye, but I never received it. It was okay because we both knew we’d see each other again soon. He said he’d be coming into town more often now that Dad was gone, plus my mother and I were planning the first of many road-trips to visit Paul and Terry.

Two days later I was on my knees, that sound involuntarily bellowing out of me, as I screamed, “No! This can’t true.” I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and turned to see my friend Rosa. Richard had asked her to come to the house to stay with me for a while.

When I saw her, no matter how many times I said it couldn’t be true, she told me it was. Her husband, Art, and their son, Noah came and embraced me, too.

Eventually, I knew it was true. I had just recently begun to get the images of my father’s body in the hospital and in his casket out of my brain when images of my brother started to flood my imagination. A car accident? The images were too horrific for me to let them take over. I didn’t even know what had actually happened.

We came back into the house from the yard. My sister and brother-in-law, Sam, arrived. Our friend Steve, who Richard had called, walked in, grabbed me and held me.

Terry had called Beth to tell her, and then Richard, poor Richard, to tell him. Everyone in our family knows that Richard is the best messenger.

But, Mom didn’t know, and Richard wasn’t here to tell her. After nearly three weeks of trying to get used to living alone, she had finally decided to go out to dinner with friends.

There’s a Jewish saying that bad things happen in threes. My sister and I were sure my mother would collapse and die the moment she found out about Paul, so Beth called Mom’s doctor to ask for advice. I suggested Mom be placed into a medically-induced coma; a good reason I should never become a doctor and stick to my day job as a writer.

Art, who is a doctor, and Sam, who is a gentle soul and whom my mother adores, were elected as the most competent to go to the house to tell my mother. The rest of us waited to see what Mom wanted us to do. I thought she might want to come to our house, to get away from her house for the night, but she asked that Beth and I go to her house. Lucas insisted on coming with us.

Between the three of us, the sound of the loss of my brother was perverse and scary. Lucas waited patiently for Beth and me to release our Mother, and then wrapped her safely in his arms.

The howls of grief escaping from my sister and mother began to make me shake. I felt dizzy. I needed to go home. Rosa, who had stayed with Veronica, Aaron and Noah came to my Mom’s house to pick up Art, Lucas and me.

Veronica went to sleep in her room. Lucas and I slept in the living room with the dogs. Richard flew in this morning. He had offered to fly to Indianapolis, and then drive to get Terry in Nashville and bring him here, but Terry didn’t want him to do that. He wanted to drive here. We thought Terry was going to drive alone, so we were relieved when he said his friend, Rhea, was coming with him. So here we are. At my mother’s house, waiting for them.

I’ve always believed in a being greater than me. I always thought things happened for a reason; that is until 7:30 last night.There cannot be a reason, or even an explanation, for my brother to have been killed.

My mother said last night that we’ll never recover from this. I think she’s right. It’s just us girls, now, and our wonderful husbands and kids, but our family of five has been ripped apart within the span of less than three weeks. There just can’t be a purpose for that.

Please understand if my writing is sporadic for a while.

Thank you,

Leslie

Please read these beautifully written tributes about my brother, Paul:

“At a Loss for Words About a Loss”

http://sheilakennedy.net/2014/07/at-a-loss-for-words-about-a-loss/comment-page-1/#comment-149100 by Sheila Kennedy

 

“Kindness Wins”

http://indy.st/1lGc010 Opinion piece by Dr. Quigley, Clinical Professor at the Indiana University Robert H. McKinney School of Law in Indianapolis

“Paul Chase Accomplished Much for Indiana”

http://indy.st/1lrr8PB