Last week I lost a friend and former colleague, Leo Krzanowicz. At age 89, Leo’s death was not a tragedy. He lived a long and fruitful life, but he is still to be mourned. Leo taught at #22 School on Zimbrich St., Rochester for forty years and was probably the most loved teacher by everyone during his time there. I worked with him for 11 years, but I also saw him socially at retirement group activities. Leo always had a smile on his face, and even as teacher dress became more casual, he continued to wear a suit and tie in the classroom, treating teaching as a professional endeavor.

 As a writer, what I admired most about Leo was his storytelling ability. I don’t know if he ever committed any of his stories to paper, but he had dozens of them. Some were about his boyhood, some were about his military experience, some about the classroom, and some about his family. There was no short conversation with Leo. Part of the joy of listening to Leo was in seeing the joy that the stories brought to him in the telling. That’s what I try to achieve in my work. I hope the reader will feel the joy that I’ve had in the writing of a book or a poem or an essay. Thanks, Leo. Your story has inspired mine.