December 9, 2011
Manager of Visitor and Member Services,
I want to thank you particularly, and one of the guards, for making our visit to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum very special.
As I mentioned, we had spent the past two days in Akron, attending my brother's funeral. Needless to say, it had been a terrible week for me and a rough couple days for Jeff.
I cannot express how thrilled Jeff was with his personalized tour and private Sting costume viewing. Afterwards, he said, "You know, they don't do that for everyone."
You really made our visit memorable and special.
Obituary and guest book, Dec 6, 2011
"">Remembering Arnie," Jan 25, 2012
Before I share some thoughts about Arnie, I would like to give a special thanks to the relatives and friends who have come from near and far to Akron, even though it has been many years since the Stux Family has called it home.
But our roots are here, and I am grateful that you are all with us today as we remember Arnie.
I want to make special mention of Arnie's beloved Aunt Greta. As Allison has so accurately described it, Greta has a special and protective love for Arnie. She was not up to making the trip from California.
I knew one Arnie, and was always surprised by the others I discovered. He could be private, guarded, and even mysterious. We often joked that he worked for the CIA, and that all his supposed business trips just cover for his secret missions. If we had learned that it was in fact the truth, there would be no surprise.
My brother Arnie was always gentle and kind, without a bad word for anyone. He loved our kids, and Julian and Chloe loved their "Uncle Ernie." He could make them laugh, dance and sing, and always knew the perfect memento or gift to give them. During his visits, Uncle Arnie was at eye level with them, on hands and knees.
I can't ever remember him being angry, Or raising his voice, and I never remember arguing with him. As we got older we would see each other a couple of times a year, and talk on the phone and email, but Arnie never gave much detail about what he was doing, either professionally or personally. But I always had a sense of satisfaction and pride knowing that even though he was a man of mystery and didn't always share his exploits, Arnie had become a good man, living a life full of education, travel, sports, faith and friends.
Arnie went to Northwestern, then to the University of Pennsylvania, and finally to Johns Hopkins where he got his PhD. I always seemed to forget that he was Dr. Stux, my little brother, Dr. Stux.
Arnie travelled extensively around the country and internationally, giving talks to various engineering and professional groups, speaking on things that I can barely pronounce, let alone understand. He was a member of Toastmasters, something I just learned in the last few days, constantly honing his craft.
When he worked at Naval Research Labs, he was selected to attend a prestigious conference in Switzerland that Was a conclave of Nobel Prize winners in the Sciences.
Arnie was obviously very smart, but after his countless explanations of what he did for a living, I still could not figure out his work. Anytime I saw friends I grew up with, they would ask about my mom, Lydia, and Greta. When it came to Arnie, I would shrug, smile and say, "He is doing great. I don't know what he is doing, but he is doing great."
Arnie was involved with a martial arts group, and would sometimes go on what I called Ninja outings, which involved being outside at night, engaging in some sort of combat, from what I gathered. He played in a soccer league for many years, and was an avid hiker and runner. And let's not forget Ping Pong. Arnie played competitively until fairly recently, with success in each tournament entered.
Arnie's interests were endless. Piano and violin started at an early age. He was religious, active in the local Hillel, and could even read trope. He constantly took road trips, visiting friends all over the world. Turkey was a favorite place. He was rarely at home, and never just sat in front of the TV.
This renaissance man was just truly beginning to bloom, and has left us all too soon. His life cut too short, Arnie will be remembered by all who met him, worked or played with him, laughed or hypothesized with him. He loved his rich and full life every day, and your being here and all the messages of support we have received tell us how truly he will be missed.
What can I tell you about my little brother? We knew him and yet, he was unknowable. He possessed prodigious intellect, but told me several times about his joy in playing sports. I remember Arnie, ever the scientist, explaining to my boys how Lego blocks are made, but being equally comfortable shooting baskets with them.
I cannot enumerate Arnie's many hobbies and interests. I don't think I even know many of them. But that describes the Arnie I know and love. The things he liked, he pursued. Without showiness or fanfare. His passions weren't necessarily trendy or mainstream. If Arnie was interested in doing something, he did it.
Our mom says she is glad the music lessons paid off in a life-long love of music. In these past few days, I have looked for solace, comfort and quiet in my own music collection. The poetry of this song spoke to me so eloquently and profoundly.
I live in the hills
You live in the valleys
And all that you know are those blackbirds
You rise every morning
Wondering what in the world will the world bring today
Will it bring you joy or will it take it away
And every step you take is guided by
The love of the light on the land and the blackbird's cry
You will walk in good company
The valley is dark
The burgeoning holding
The stillness obscured by their judging
You walk through the shadows
Uncertain and surely hurting
Deserted by the blackbirds and the staccato of the staff
And though you trust the light towards which you wend your way
Sometimes you feel all that you wanted has been taken away
You will walk in good company
I love the best in you
You love the best in me
Though it is not always easy
We will walk in good company
Photos of Arnie
October 10, 2011
“Hurry up, Leila. We have to leave for SHAARE TIKVAH BNAI ZION. Services start at 8:30 am. It’s already 9:10, and I have to be there when the past presidents are on the bima! It takes at least 20 minutes to get there!” exclaimed Neil.
“OK. I have to leave Inky’s food and water and clean her litter box before we leave. She’s upstairs in the brown room and didn’t come down with me yet. Having done the tasks, we left hurriedly, calling to Inky, “Inky Baby, your food is ready for you. We have to go to synagogue and will be back very late. Take care of the house. We love you!”
Checking all the doors first and then rushing out the front door, we were off to the long, long Yom Kippur day at STBZ.
Services were over at 7:30 pm. We had been invited to join Bill at a friend’s home for breaking of the fast way up north. Bill came out to get me, while Neil searched for a parking space. Upstairs to a very busy, crowded scene--to the buffet table groaning with all sorts of luscious dairy home-made dishes. Neil arrived. Our hostess invited everyone to come to the back porch where she blew the shofar for a Gadollah performance.
“Leila, Bill is going with me to our car, then we’ll take him to his car. It’s too far for you to walk. We will come back for you, so please wait outside. “Goodnight, my Father. Goodnight, my Mother,” and a kiss from Bill.
“Thank you, My Bill. I love you,” a goodnight kiss thrrough the open door, and back to 3501 and Inky.
It was 10:00 pm. “Inky Baby, we’re home!” we kept telling her as we climbed the front steps. Neil opened the front door, expecting to see Inky waiting in the hallway. No Inky.
“Inky Baby, Where are you?” NO INKY. Searched EVERYWHERE, constantly calling her.
Her usual places were empty--her Queen’s chair, the blue tunnel, climbing tower, chairs, couches, dining room table, Brown room upstairs, Bill’s room, our room, closets, basement, office…NO INKY!
“Neil, I don’t understand it. Where could she be?” “She’ll be someplace new that we don’t know about,” he responded. “It’s late, I’m tired. Let’s go to bed. First I have to take care of something. Leila! Look here in the mud room. We left the door open! I thought I had locked everything when we left!” He went out onto the porch, saw nothing, came back in and locked the door.
“Leila! Someone broke into the house! Come see what happened! One of the windows to the dining room has been smashed open, but it looks like nothing has been taken!
There’s signs of someone monkeying with the watches here on my desk. The bag with the camera is still here on the stool, there’s nothing out of place in the dining room or the kitchen. The computers are still here. Let’s look everywhere…maybe the burglars took Inky with them!”
“INKY BABY…WHERE ARE YOU?” Again a complete search of every possible place in the house,but now also in the back yard, the porch, the tubby-room, the alley …NOTHING!!!
“Let’s call the police immediately!” We were instructed, “Don’t touch anything, leave it the way you found it.” Two policemen arrived, with all sorts of questions, cameras, etc. to see if there was any evidence. NOTHING! “We’ll have another officer come to check for fingerprints, footprints, anything that might help,” they promised.
The outside storm window had been taken off, carefully leaned against the round table, the glass completely smashed out leaving a pile of the shards laying on the green “grass” carpet on the porch. The window had been unscrewed and opened up, the glass smashed out, the shards falling on top of the ones on the porch as well as the dining room floor. They had apparently been wearing gloves (no blood anywhere) and proceeded to crawl into the dining room through the smashed window frame. They took nothing, destroyed nothing, went through the watches box on Neil’s desk and then left through the mud room, unlocking the door to get out, pushing open the screen door, and disappearing.
“Here’s Inky’s picture. Can you help us and report her missing? She’s more important than anything that happened to the house.”
“No, we don’t do that. I will take a picture of your picture, but sorry. You have to do the searching yourself. We have all we can do to search for missing people! We an report whatever we can report and get the other policeman here for further research.”
And the police left.
We waited …and waited …and waited…No policeman came!
Neil went to his computer and printed up instructions on what to do when you have a missing cat.
It was after midnight when a police officer finally came.
“Sorry, I can’t find any evidence anywhere. I advise you to contact your neighbors to help you in the search for Inky. Contact the animal shelters; but we cannot help you find her. “
And SHE left.
Out on the back porch again. “Inky Baby, come to Momma” over and over and over.
“Neil dear, please put the floodlights on in the backyard so if she is there we can see her and she can see us.” Nothing.
Neil had to go to sleep. I couldn’t. Computer time to pass the hours. Out on the porch every 15 minutes calling “Inky Baby…Where are you? Come to Momma.“ No response. Composed an email to the family and very close friends informing them that INKY IS MISSING and that any plans we had might have to be postponed.
The information Neil had printed about what to do when your cat is missing had some excellent ideas so I put a pair of my shoes and the dress I had been wearing outside the back door. Filled her food dish and water and put it outside the back door also. Brought her cutie basket with her favorite toy mice (sprayed with catnip) to the porch in hopes that these items would entice her.
Back to the computer. Now it’s 3:45 am. Time to check the back porch again.
Opened the back door, and the screen door--nothing touched in the Enticement Department Items.
Looked at the Tubby House bathed in the yard lights, and gracefully coming around the corner was my lovely ball of calico fur heading for the stairs leading up to the porch and the back door.
“Inky Baby…Come to Momma!” Thank goodness there was no sign of any damage physically to her. She climbed the stairs, checked out the Enticement Items, ignored them, and walked into the mud room as though nothing had happened.
“Just taking a little walk, Momma” she seemed to say as she headed into the kitchen, the dining room, the bathroom to use her litter box and over to the broken window to possibly go outside again????
It was imperative to block that open window as best as possible until Neil could replace the broken glass. What is available at 4 :00 AM? Ah yes …put the 20” box fan in front of the window, pull the shade as far down as possible, move the drapes in front, and push the small cabinet against it all.
And who do you think is inspecting the entire operation right under my working hands? INKY HANDELMAN… pushing close to probably jump right outside again.
“No Inky. Don’t you dare!” I pushed her away. Thank goodness she knows what “No” means.
She was hungry. The wet food dish was filled quickly and she dug in very delicately. Then off to the living room to check out her belongings. Quickly she climbed up to the top of her cat tree and began an extended cleaning of her paws and tummy
It was time to bring in the Enticement Items from the back porch, and put them where they belong, but I was too tired to put my shoes and dress anywhere except on the stool at the door.
“Oh my … I’d better notify the friends and family that Inky is back!” So another email was sent to them …HOORAY … INKY IS HOME! Now we can all relax!
It was 5:00 am, and I finally climbed upstairs to go to bed. Had to read a few more chapters when I felt Inky Handelman, climbing on top of me for her nightly petting, then she disturbed Neil by trying to climb on his head and he quickly moved her off. “Everything is back to normal, Momma. I don’t know what you made such a fuss about!”
And so…today Neil and Bill have replaced the broken glass from all the windows and this epistle has been created Isn’t it lucky that we had no plans that required changing?
And that Inky is home safe and sound …until her next adventure.
Addendum from Lydia
What a relief and horrible adventure! I hadn’t seen your earlier email about the broken window and escape, but then I read through this one. I know Inky is happy to be home. She is a princess and I know she does not enjoy socializing with the lower-class outdoor rabble.
September 8, 2011
August 17, 2011
How did I miss this? All summer long, local owners of classic cars gather in a Skokie parking lot for a weekly, free, informal car show, sponsored by the local classic car club.
When Jeff and I happened to drive by last week, Jeff nearly leapt from the moving car. So we had to stop.
How perfect is this arrangement? Turn Jeff loose for an hour to revel in his element and hang out with a bunch of other guys who love to talk about their cars!
Nice note from the organizers of the show:
You so made my day! We work really hard to make a fun show for everyone and getting your note and pictures really makes it all worthwhile.
See you next Monday!
So Jeff set up his own mini car show in the basement.
It has something to do with the extreme difficulty of having two closely-bonded, yet incredibly socially-inept children.
Recently before our daily phone call to Hart, I cautioned Jeff, "Hart has been having a rough time. We must really try to help him feel better."
So Jeff obediently took the phone, and without preamble said, "I got two new cool things this weekend."
SIGH. At least now, this kind of interaction is played out in two different zip codes. When both boys were here with me, no matter how angry, hysterical, or unhinged one was (or even, both were), they insisted on being in the same room, ideally occupying the same square meter of space.
I have tried to help Jeff make kinder, more empathic and socially-aware choices--if you were sad, would hearing that make you feel better or worse?--Jeff understands, but the concept doesn't stick.
August 15, 2011
Front page article of the Sunday New York Times!
Jeff and I have been to the London Transport Museum and we make a pilgrimage to the Petersen Automotive Museum whenever we are in Los Angeles. It is interesting that museum officials are now catering to this specific target audience.
Jeff is older than the children featured in the article, so I have some perspective. I applaud the parents and museum staff for nurturing these kids' passion in positive pro-social way. However, we parents also have to urge our kids with stereotypical interests to see other things, try other experiences.
It may have been charming ten years ago that Jeff liked to talk about cars, but a decade later, I still have to cue him to change the subject or respond to the topic at hand.
A wise parent once told me that we have to give our autistic kids time in their world, but on the other hand, we have to patiently insist that they spend time in our boring, neuro-typical world, too.
July 10, 2011
June 18, 2011
After a career in special education and residential settings, Hart speaks the specific dialect of therapy, as do I. "The staff is abusive!" Hart shouted into the phone. "Use your strategies," I urged. "Advocate for yourself. Say 'I'm new' or 'I need some alone time.'" But, as ever, my words to Hart are like whispering into a hurricane.
Hart has been "high-anxiety" for months, anticipating his move. It has been no picnic for me either, alternately calming him and visiting potential new residences. When we determined that Hart would move to a nearby suburb, I entertained all sorts of fantasies of frequent visits, dinner dates, outings to movies and theater; essentially resuming the enjoyable field trips we were able to undertake when Hart lived at home with me. As with most of my good intentions, this seems absolutely ludicrous now. I have had to arrange for special permission to take Hart off-campus for an upcoming orthodontist appointment. "Will you need a staff person to accompany you?" Oh, no no no. But after a moment, I agreed that if Hart was an elopement risk or aggressive, I would re-schedule the appointment.
It must be a hellish curse to consistently act against your own self-interests. "What possible benefit is it to you to antagonize your new roommate?" I asked Hart as evenly as I could. "These are the people who will care for you here. You just met them, and you are swearing at them?"
Note to self: reasoning with an unreasonable person will never work. Get additional cell phone minutes for frequent "incident" calls.
May 25, 2011
April 26, 2011
- I am thy teacher who brought thee to the stage. Thou shalt have no other directors, critics, advisors before me.
- Honor thy microphone and keep thy mouth four inches from it.
- Flap not thy lyric sheet, but hold it still by thy side.
- Remember the bright lights, thou womenfolk, and keep thy face to shine with makeup.
- Sing not directly to thy loved ones, nor make eye contact with them.
- Dwell near each other, thou duet partners, lest there be a great expanse between ye on the video.
- Thou shalt not wear hats, boas, maribou, nor any rainment of poultry in the Cabaret.
- Thou shalt not make any introduction, nor make apology prior to singing.
- Thou shalt not look upon thy accompanist, nor shall ye call attention to any error made thereon.
- Thou shalt not wear white nor pastel colors
for these things are an abomination to me.
April 24, 2011
Jeff, grifter. Jeff shows amazing aptitude for the confidence game. He is a genius at elaborate cons, involving his parents, caregivers, teachers and classmates. Although I am chagrined at this, I do have to marvel at the skill involved.
Hart, neighborhood crazy person. I recently told Hart's social worker that even I am creeped out by the strange gait, bizarre outbursts and non-sequiters mid-conversation, and constant muttering. Every community has a strange, harmless resident. I suspect I know who that will be.
April 20, 2011
Shore was the eldest of four sons, born into a Jewish family on February 26, 1921 in Czechoslovakia. After completing his undergraduate work in chemistry and physics Shore was taken to his first concentration camp in 1942 as a Jewish prisoner. Virtually all of the other Jews brought into this work camp died in the minefields, having been forced to walk in front of the advancing German fronts. Shore would always express his optimism as it was his destiny "to be at the right place at the right time". Shore had sustained a right hip injury that gave him a limp. The sergeant in charge of sending the young men out to walk long distances in front of the Army did not believe Shore could make the walk and kept him back at the camp to work there. Shore, and the rest of his family, was taken by train in the middle of the night to the Auschwitz concentration camp. His parents and one of the brothers and hundreds of relatives and friends perished in the camps. Shore survived the Holocaust, including the Auschwitz-Birkenau and Crakow-Plaszow (made famous in Schindler's List) concentration camps. Shore was then faced with a new threat when the Communists took over Czechoslovakia in 1948. Just before completing his doctorate, his visa to immigrate to the United States came through and took advantage of it making his way to Cleveland, Ohio.
The DuPont Corporation's famous advertising slogan" Better Things for Better Living . . .Through Chemistry" were his watchwords. His initial interest was in medical pharmaceuticals, specifically the development of synthetic steroids. In 1950 he worked on a process of synthesizing various 17 keto steroids at the Case Western Reserve School of Medicine. However, he made a decision to focus his chemical engineering brilliance on synthetic polymers useful in the industrial setting--specifically, plastics. He knew that theoretically polymers could be used for practically any purpose - from the early computer motherboards to automotive parts. He quickly became an expert in the following modification of plastic polymers to achieve very precise specifications required for industrial applications. In 1951, he
was hired as the director of research and development at the Dynakon Corporation in Cleveland Ohio. There, he perfected the art of creating plastic resins, specifically polyester,vinyl ester, and epoxies for use in fiberglass reinforced plastics.
Shore and Dynakon were at the right place at the right time in Cleveland Ohio, one of the major manufacturing centers in the United States in the post - World War II era. Its proximity to the big three Detroit automobile headquarters made it a natural for the subcontracting of automobile parts manufacturing. This became fortuitous for several Cleveland-based companies when General Motors saw the tremendous response to the original Corvette concept car at the New York auto show and decided to put it into production. Originally conceived in steel body, it was then decided at the last minute to produce the body panels in fiberglass reinforced plastics. This was done principally to save startup costs and provide the added benefits of a new technology and reduced weight.
In February, of 1953, Robert Morrison of the Molded Fiberglass Company in Cleveland received a $4 million contract for producing the 1953 and 1954 Corvette body panels. Morrison and company already had considerable experience in the production of fiberglass reinforced plastics but they were under significant pressure to achieve specifications necessary for automotive body panels that they had not previously produced. Morrison subcontracted with William Shore and his team at Dynakon to perfect the plastic resin. Initially there were many problems with the precise percentages of the Isothallic plastic resin, inert ammonium silicate, and fiberglass fibers. Eventually, Shore's engineering team developed the perfect resin blend. The final percentage was 41% plastic, 30% fiberglass and 29% inert silicate. The body panels were tested by GM engineers and found that they met all of their specifications.
On June 29, 1953 the first ofthe initial 300-1953 model Chevrolet Corvettes rolled off the assembly line. It was the first series production automobile made with a "fiberglass" body. Shore would always jokingly object to the designation of "fiberglass" body. He would say "after all it's 41% plastic and only 30% fiberglass". He much preferred another term of endearment for the Corvette body: "the plastic fantastic". To honor his work, Shore was offered one of the first 300 Corvettes at General Motor's invoice cost. His answer was "what am I going to do with the car with no backseat and a small trunk". When he found out that one of the early serial number 1953 Corvettes had sold recently for $1 million Shore said, "Like so many things in life, if only we knew then what we know now"! Shore had virtually no interest in automobiles - his focus was purely on the polymer material technology. Soon thereafter, Shore developed the plastic compounds for melamine dinnerware, structural building materials, plastic protective automobile side moldings, and many new applications used by the United States military.
In 1959, again at the right place at the right time, Shore was working on the development of highdensity polyethylene plastics. He realized that this material was far safer, lighter, and less expensive than glass or metal alternatives as containers for various liquids including milk or bleaches. Clorox .Corporation, the largest manufacturer of bleach in the United States, contracted with Shore to be one of their early producers of blow molded high-density polyethylene white Clorox bottles. Shore also helped to perfect the blow molding process for these applications. Five years later in 1964, these blow molded plastic bottles began to replace the glass milk bottle.
After a trip to Israel in 1981, William Shore's life was transformed. In this small country with no significant natural resources and little water supply, Shore saw the need to save water. A master photographer, Shore's prize-winning photographs were almost universally taken in nature. He published a book "Expressions of Nature Through Photography and Words", a compilation of his life's photographic work. His love of nature and the environment spurred his interest in the recyclability of plastic products as well as their potential for saving what he saw as the most precious product necessary for mankind: water, using plastics. He patented a production system for the use of plastic film of precise rigidity, flexibility, and porosity for the growing and storing of agricultural products. Fundamentally, his "plant packaging system" was a scalable combination of a greenhouse and terrarium that would preserve the water content and recycle it. In addition, it was a natural barrier to insects that would eliminate the need for pesticides and all of their environmental consequences.
Shore was a polymath and Renaissance man with a nearly perfect photographic memory. An incessant reader he became so expert in astrophysics and cosmology that he was elected president of the Cleveland Astronomical Society during the 1980s. Again, being at the right place at the right time was important for William Shore. In 1987, he worked tirelessly along with Case Western Reserve University personnel to create one of the most famous meetings of world prominent physicists: the 1987 Centennial Anniversary of the Michelson Morley Experiment. In 1887, the Michelson Morley experiment on the splitting of light was critical information for all the new physics, including Einstein's theories of relativity. This experiment performed by the Case Western Reserve University scientists has been called the "beginning of the second scientific revolution". Many Nobel prize winners attended the meeting including Murray Gell-Mann, Ph.D. Shore and Gell Mann discussed their mutual belief in string theory at these meetings and subsequently.
William Shore spent his final years studying writing and lecturing on his wide variety of interests. Of particular interest near the end of his life was proving that the biblical Genesis story and the Big Bang cosmological theory were expressions of the same reality and completely consistent. He famously said "if God wrote the Bible, he couldn't express it in terms of 20th century physics to people living thousands of years ago."
William Shore is survived by his first wife Carol Wilson Hudson and his second wife Erica Stux- Shore, two sons; Philip S. Shore, M.D. (wife Diana), and Robert M. Shore (wife Julie), and two grandchildren Adam Shore and Allison Shore.
April 5, 2011
For the past two years, during Jeff's spring break, he and I have gone to Europe. These trips, while not elaborate or luxe, are masterpieces of research, planning and organizing. I know that Jeff would not want to "wing it" and he doesn't care for unstructured meandering. I found out in London that Jeff won't tolerate impromptu consultation with a map or guidebook either. So around January this year, I pored over the Internet to work out a trip to Belgium and the Netherlands.
But it was not to be. Jeff went off the rails for most of February and a European trip just seemed too daunting. I assumed we would spend spring break here, with Jeff playing with his cars and complaining of boredom, and me, pouting.
In February, I had an inspiration: a cruise! So my friend Meiya, Jeff and I headed to the Port of Miami for a week's cruise to Roatan, Honduras and Cozumel, Mexico on Celebrity Cruises' CENTURY. Meiya and I had a great time lounging, playing trivia games (best score ever on the Broadway musicals trivia contest), singing karaoke and eating. Jeff had a wonderful time, doing whatever it is he did aboard ship. We saw him for meals and occasionally he passed by us.
March 2, 2011
February 8, 2011
February 2, 2011
January 11, 2011
At this year's event on January 8, Jeff took first place in the H division, the tier of the fastest skaters. Special Needs skaters are grouped by ability rather than age. He won first place in all three distances; 333m, 500m, 700m.
Jeff is a long-time member of the Evanston Speed Skating Club, and ESSC's only special needs member. "Regular competitions all season with his age-mates have really motivated Jeff to work hard and improve his times," says ESSC coach George Babicz. "I'm proud of his win, but not surprised."
Jeff is currently a high school junior at The Cove School in Northbrook. Cove School serves students with moderate to severe learning disabilities. Jeff joined ESSC as a third grader: this is his ninth season skating.
"I initially thought of speed skating for Jeff because the demands of a team sport would have been very difficult, due to Jeff's disability," says his mother, Lydia. "I didn't know anything about speed skating. But the individual endeavor of the sport appealed to me."
Jeff also plays guitar and is on Cove's basketball team, but speed skating is his favorite activity. He has met Olympic medalist Shani Davis a number of times, often enough to have a running game of tag with Shani over the past six years. "The friends and experiences Jeff has had skating are wonderful, but annoying Shani is fun for him, too."