Mr. Beistle

I went to a Celebration of Life the other day for one of my teachers from high school: Mike Beistle, from here on out referred to as "Mr. Beistle" because that is how I knew him. Even though I hadn't seen Mr. Beistle in over a decade I went because think that funerals are important, in part because it is a kindness to the family but also because I think genuine remembrance is the most sincere and poignant gift a person can give.

Even before I went tonight I knew that more than remembering on my own, I'd be hearing about other people's memories.  Mr. Beistle was my teacher for one year and my memories are literally nothing in comparison to those of his friends.  I was glad that I went because while I will always remember Mr. Beistle with a smile, he wasn't necessarily the teacher that touched my life and changed it forever.  Sitting in the Hippedrome on Sunday I got to hear from the students whose lives both in high school and after were significantly warmer and safer because of him, students who chose to be involved in theater, art and performance rather than pursue more traditional paths because he told them that they could and that it really was okay.  We went to a private college prep school and while it was filled with amazing teachers and people of all kinds, Mr. Beistle was unique in that he encouraged student to following their passions and dreams even when doing so would take them down different, perhaps less affluent paths.

One of the best things that was said of Mr. Beistle at the celebration was said by his best friend: "He could always make me laugh.  In part because he was pretty quick but also because, well, Mike was just a really strange human being."  I hope that someone loves me enough to say that of me at my own funeral.