9/9/15

Dear Eli and Brenna,

Since Calvin died when you were young, I hope that my memories of your father can help you get to know what he was like to all of us who knew and loved him.

Calvin Hunt was a bright and colorful presence in this world.  He had a contagious sense of humor accompanied by a memorable and hearty laugh.  Whenever he gave me a welcoming bear hug, I felt loved and was glad he was my friend.

Calvin clearly loved you both and your mother very much. The difference you children made in his life was profound. I saw a distinct change in him after you came into this world.  It was as if he discovered his true purpose in life. Being your dad brought him such joy, and he loved to talk about all your new discoveries and favorite things.

You mom at one time worked with your dad at Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, and I met Calvin that way since Margaret had been my roommate. I remember going roller blading near the Verrazano Bridge one day with your mom and dad before they became a couple. Since your dad was older and established in his career, I kept thinking, “Why does Calvin want to hang out with nobody peons like us?” Well…I guess the answer is obvious in hindsight. Your parents were a great fit, and shared a mutual respect for each other. Both were strong in their opinions, but they balanced each other out. I rather enjoyed the exasperation each one experienced when the other one did not do things the “right” way.

Your dad loved watching and participating in sports, but was equally versed in arts and culture. I loved to listen to him, because he could talk about the dance community and dance history from a first-hand perspective. People I learned about in college as a dance major like Alvin Ailey were people he knew and worked with professionally. Calvin respected the talented and creative work of artists in all mediums. He would speak with enthusiasm when describing choreography or a dance performance that inspired him. When I lived in New York City and was dancing and choreographing, he was always very supportive of my dreams.

Calvin valued and appreciated his professional history, and took on the role of mentor to share his wisdom and understanding with others. Although he was sometimes frustrated with the drama of the dancers or coworkers at Ailey, he never lacked commitment to excellence and was a born leader. At the memorial I was impressed listening to his coworkers talk about the role he played in their lives.

Calvin had so much life experience from touring all over the world and meeting so many people. I loved to listen to him tell stories, and he knew how to animate them to keep you engaged. For example, if he were describing how some punk kid was walking down the street, he wouldn’t just say it in words. Calvin would get up and mimic an exaggerated swagger and talk about the guys pants hanging down so you really got the whole visual picture. Not only was he descriptive, but he was also interesting and funny.

Calvin’s sense of humor is a memorable character trait.  I can hear his booming laugh in my head and it makes me smile just thinking about it. One of my favorite photos of your folks was taken at Auntie Beth’s first wedding where your mom and dad have spoons on their noses. Margaret and Calvin had fun together and I have a lot of great memories from our family gatherings with the UCI gals: Margaret, ElizaBeth, Patti and I. Your mom has a book I made for her with all the photos.

On one of the UCI gatherings we stayed at your house and went on a group hike. Brenna was not born yet and Eli, you were still small enough to be carried in a backpack. Jeff was carrying you at the time and Paul and your dad started putting rocks in the backpack to make it heavier and heavier. Jeff thought maybe when you fell asleep you started to weigh more until he realized the mischief ensuing at his expense. It just makes me laugh when I think about it.

Calvin was such a fun dancer at events and boy did he have the moves out on the dance floor! I loved getting down with him on the dance floor at all the weddings we celebrated together. Your mom will have to tell you more about our alarm clock tradition at our weddings. Your dad was good at hiding them since he and Paul could both reach into those high places. The air conditioning unit was another good hiding spot, but I can’t remember who came up with that one. We had a lot of fun together and I miss those special times.

You can’t really talk about your dad without mentioning his consummate barbequing skills. If it could be smoked or barbequed, Calvin had tried it! I remember one time when Jeff and I went to a performance of the company at UC Berkeley.  Calvin showed us around backstage and then proudly showed us all the BBQ accoutrements. That year they were going to barbeque an entire pig. When it came to barbequing Calvin meant business and he was good at it.

Calvin got to know people and was great at making conversation. Work events kept him in the city some evenings, so he developed a sense of community and relationships with people in the neighborhood of the Ailey studios and City Center.  I remember going to the “lipstick restaurant” (EB, Patti, your mom and I put on lipstick and kissed the ceiling and signed our names) where Calvin knew the owner and was treated like a VIP. Everybody loved him and welcomed him wherever we went. It was fitting that after the memorial at City Center we shared a meal together at Trattoria Dell’Arte where your dad used to go all the time.

Another thing I remember about your dad was his Buddhist chanting in the mornings by his alter. It was an important time for him to ground his energy and center himself. He had such a deep voice that the guttural sounds he made almost sounded vibrational like an instrument. At one point he had talked about doing voiceover work. Although he did not have the chance to explore this particular career path, he would have been really good at it.

These descriptions of your dad are a poor substitute for having him here to experience your lives as you grow up. I’m so glad you can see videos and photos of Calvin to bring his presence to life.  I can so clearly picture him in my mind when I think about him. I wish I could give you the gift of those pictures and experiences in my head, so you could know him in the same way that I did. Hopefully the descriptions of his family and friends can paint a more complete picture of not only who he was, but what he meant to those who knew him. He is missed.

Love you Eli and Brenna!  Auntie Rose

"You turned the desk around to see who was coming in the door. That's smart. You might last here for a while."

With that pronouncement, he continued past me, starting his business conversation with Dacquiri. Those were the first real words Calvin Hunt spoke to me beyond pleasantries.

Who knew that in 3 years, 6 months and 3 days one person named Calvin V. Hunt could make such an impact on my life? When I first met the huge presence that was Calvin Hunt, he was THE man. His voice boomed like the thunder of an impending summer storm. His presence was large, and filled whatever space he was in. I knew that he was not someone that was easily won; he had to know that you were worth the time and investment.

Even though his first pronouncement made it seem like I was on the right path, I soon realized that I was not in just yet. I felt his gaze keenly watching me whenever we shared a space. One thing that gaze never missed was my hair, which was in a longer curly Afro when I first started. He always had a comment, a not so gentle nudge toward a barber's chair. When I finally cut my hair one Friday during a lunch break, the first office I went to when I returned to the Ailey building was Mr. Hunt's. The look on his face, the smart retort to my explanation that his was the first face I wanted to see my haircut, was all I needed to see to know that I was on my way.

What sealed the deal was my first trip to Berkeley with the Company. At the time, my parents lived in the Bay Area, and came to the theatre to see the performance, and see what it was like backstage. My parents were introduced to Mr. Hunt, and my dad shook his hand. They exchanged words, but I never really knew what was said. After Mr. Hunt passed, my dad told me that Mr. Hunt told him how proud he was of the work I was doing, and that he was going to take care of me like I was his own son, and that I was in good hands with him.

And that he did. He made sure that I emotionally ok, and when I wasn't, he did what he could to make me feel better. He pushed to be excellent, and made it clear to me that I was an important part of something larger than just booking buses and making sure dancers got from point A to point B. I was a part of a legacy of people who were committed to bringing Mr. Ailey and his work to the world. He made sure that we as management had a connection to the past; that we brought the pride of being in this Company into our work.

I miss him. Every day.

As I sit here on a plane to Nebraska, I'm hoping that he knows what he meant to me. I hope that he remembers the conversation that we had about love and legacy the night of April 5th. I remember the hug that he gave me as I left the bar that night. If I knew that it was going to be the last one, I would have squeezed a little harder, held on a little longer, maybe stayed at the bar a little longer. I would have asked more questions, asked him to retell some of my favorite Calvin Hunt stories.

But I didn't. And I can't.

Maya Angelou used to tell a story about how she was never alone, because she brought all those she loved with her everywhere she went. When she had to give a speech, she told them all, "Come, go with me." When she had to recite a poem for the inauguration of Pres. Clinton, she told them, "Get up, come with me." That story struck me, and is one I call upon whenever I feel lonely or alone.

Now I can add Mr. Hunt to the crowd of people that I bring with me.

Thank you Mr. Hunt. Rest well. I love you. 

I always enjoyed seeing Calvin, whether it was at an Ailey performance (which he presided over with quiet grace, hosting the most marvelous dance performance you could wish for) or at a gathering of our Troika Ranch board friends. In the theater, at a restaurant, in the home of friends, Calvin was always present in the moment, taking the time to connect with each individual. I always felt very "seen" by Calvin, known for the person who I am. His warmth, humor and interest came shining through, even in brief interactions.

I appreciated these qualities of presence and connection. I recall our last dinner together, on Ailey's annual visit to DC in early February 2014. Calvin needed to leave dinner early to get to the theater but he was present every minute at the restaurant, sharing stories and photos from a recent family vacation to the Caribbean, asking about my life and work, sharing the latest tales of the dance company during their stay in town.

Calvin was what my mother would call a "fine person." He walked well in the world. And he is missed.