I was wondering if I can celebrate Barry’s 86th birthday today without his physical presence and I decided that I certainly can because he really is always present in my life. I can celebrate all that was amazing and wonderful about him. All that he truly sparkled with. Yes, sparkled.  I know it might sound odd but he had a forever twinkle that could bring a smile to my face no matter how awful I might be feeling. Yes, happy birthday. I miss you more than I can ever express and love you every minute of my life

Walk of Honor SUNY New Paltz 

Barry was the first person I had ever met who ate tofu.  He cut it up, added chopped onions, herbs and spices to give it some color and flavor and cooked it in a frying pan with a little olive oil.  It was delicious. And I'm not just saying that because I love Barry.

When Barry was growing up in Dixon he was able to come home every day for lunch.  The group of boys he walked to school with in the morning all walked home together for lunch.  He told me his mom made great Chef Boyardee.  That's probably why he couldn't twirl spaghetti on a fork.  Or maybe it was just being left handed that made twirling difficult.  But I digress.  Back to the kitchen...despite his early experience with canned pasta, Barry became a good cook.

One of Barry's favorite appliances was his bread machine.  There was an entire winter he made bread nearly every day.  That's a lot of bread!  And though it was great to have fresh bread I was happy when spring came and this "phase" ended.  The bread machine was taken off the counter and put in a cupboard underneath.  Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.  And Bread Alone was so much easier!  And of course  raisin pumpernickel from Cohen's.  He never returned to bread making, but always wanted the bread machine to be there in the kitchen just in case.

His next "phase" was juicing.  He bought a super juicer and juiced every fruit and vegetable possible.  Some of these mixtures were great though I didn't care much for how they looked.  Especially when he added wheat germ and put them in the blender and they would separate into very unappetizing layers in the refrigerator.  The mess left from juicing was awful.  Carrot juice was the messiest but not as difficult to clean up as the beets.

The beets were part of the very best of Barry's cooking.  He started making wonderful soups in his crock pot.  I had added a food processor to the kitchen.  He used it to chop, grate and slice the ingredients to the most delicious soups.  The three best were carrot soup with raisins and cashews, lentil soup, and borscht (my absolute favorite).  He had tried to find a good recipe for his favorite Chinese soup, Hot and Sour, but had to be content with having it at a Chinese restaurant in Walden.  At first, he grated the beets for his borscht but after awhile he started chopping chunks of beets and potatoes leaving the skins on.  He saved glass coffee jars and filled them with borscht and refrigerated them for a whole week of dinners.  I added sour cream to mine.  He usually used yogurt but sometimes the sour cream was too tempting even for him.

Even though he often kept raw chicken out all day and sometimes ate things that were well past their expiration dates, he often shopped at health food stores and farms.  Our road trips took us to many farm stores and farmers' markets throughout the Hudson Valley.  One of the best was the Hawthorne Valley Farm.  If we went east of the Hudson we usually came back through Ghent and would stop there for soup and a little shopping.  They had a convenient restroom and a gift shop.  Barry would kid me mercilessly about gift shops wherever we went. 

Barry knew all about complete proteins, root vegetables and the foods we should eat and enjoyed sharing that knowledge.  When I was pregnant he made me promise not to drink Pepsi or Coke.  I stopped drinking soda and haven't had any in almost 25 years.  I wish I remembered more.  I'm not ready to revisit many of the places we went but I'm hoping that in time I will visit them.  And I'm hoping that eventually I will be able to use his cookbooks and revisit his cooking.

Barry loved maps.  They were packed tightly into every available compartment in his cars and very often on the back seats, floor, dashboard and trunk.  I tried to sort them out into plastic bins and store them in the den closet but we would wind up taking a road trip to AAA in Hudson or Danbury to pick up new ones rather than go through the bins.  Sometimes he would buy huge compilations of state or county maps.  He even had topographical maps of the Hudson Valley covering an entire wall in the kitchen.  When I first met him they were glued to the wall but when the kitchen was painted they were stripped off and I bought him an entire new set which I had laminated.  They were then attached to the wall with Velcro.  He loved to check out the wall before going out to explore.  Of course he also had trail maps but I can only recall a few times when he actually took one with us when we went hiking.  He was too spontaneous for that.  We rarely took water or any of the things the guide books tell you to take on a day hike.  

It drove me crazy when the maps were all over the dashboard reflecting in the windshield.  When we took turns driving  the first thing I did ( well, after adjusting everything so I could reach the pedals and see out) was remove everything from the dashboard. It  was nearly impossible to keep the maps neat and folded.  Inevitably they would be coffee stained and in a wrinkled pile.  I tried reading the maps for him when  he had made me nervous by draping the map over the steering wheel and looking at it while he drove but reading maps while he drove tended to make me car sick.  Sometimes it was just better if I drove and he told me where, but most often exploring meant he drove.  On rare occasions he would use one of his GPS devices and even less often he would use the car's navigation system.  I would set the voice to have an English accent ...that didn't last long!  On one of our last trips out we went off somewhere and weren't exactly sure how to get back.  We tried using the GPS on the phone and the battery died.  He loved it.

Nicholas and I have decided that we are going to try to map out all the places the three of us went in NY and take one very long road trip.  We'll put the 40s on XM  and Barry will be there with us .

One of my favorite photos of Barry with Nicholas.  I wish I knew what Barry was telling him!

In his words from 1975 to his class: As you know we will be going to the Shawangunk Mountains. Most people - thankfully - have never heard about this mountain range and for that reason it is pretty much unspoiled. The Shawangunks are a long, narrow range just west of New Paltz, much more varied and interesting (in my opinion) than the better known Catskills. In the Catskills, as in most mountains, the trails lead up one mountainside, down the other and then up the next. This can be quite challenging but also pretty tiring. The Shawangunks move gradually up to a plateau and reveal an astounding variety of rock formations, waterfalls and glacial lakes. There are deep hidden valleys, abandoned farms, old ruined stone houses, forgotten Apple orchards, acres of wild blueberry bushes, ice caves, virgin Hemlock forests, rushing streams and legendary lost silver mines.

Dad loved nothing more than to find some description in an old source of a path or abandoned place and set off to find it. Even better if he had you to go along with him. There are very few places in the Gunks he did not go in his 50+ years of his rambling pursuit of a romantic meditative state in nature few of us will ever experience in this life.

Barry's good friend Jerry Greenfield had died. Bill Oster was wintering in Florida. Dad probably had some version of Seasonal Affective Disorder his whole life. The solution? Go to Structure House in sunny and warm Durham, NC for the winter months. He formed wonderful friendships here. It was very good for his soul. I visited him on two occasions. He showed me off like I was a returning astronaut. On the most recent visit my wife and I pulled into the parking lot by the spa only to be warned by a denizen that we would be parking at our own peril should we be next to the silver Hyundai as the driver was known to cause it to collide with things. I explained to the nice lady that the driver of that car is my dad. She was mortified! Dad told us he had hit a tree and thoroughly apologized to the tree. (This is the same guy who could talk to trees.)

In 1969 my dad watched his Chicago Cubs baseball team lose 17 of their last 25 games to go from first place to take a back seat to the Miracle Mets. As an 11 year old New York kid I was rooting for the Mets.

Fast-forward to 2016. I resolved to make the Cubs one of my touchstones with my dad. Every day of Spring training and the regular season we reviewed the events of the day and rejoiced together in the success of this Theo Epstein and Joe Maddon masterpiece. The Cubs had the best record in baseball on August 28, 2016 and favored to win the World Series. Like his father before him, Barry went to his reward without seeing the Cubs win it all. Or, as I like to think, he has the best seat in the house now to see them win it all this year. Cue: "A dying Cubs fan's last request" by Steve Goodman.

In 2008 I took dad to Wrigley Field for the first time since going with his friend Chester Kaiserman in 1947 to see Hank Greenberg play. I have a photo of him there 2 seats back from the field over the visiting team dugout and he looks like he died and went to heaven. Also on this same trip to Illinois he took me as his guest to his Dixon HS 57th reunion. How many parents bring a child to a reunion? He was proud to show me off and I was proud to be there.

Oh, did I mention that before the 2016 season began I placed my first and last sports bet: $500 on the Cubs to win!

Barry had a way of looking at the world (he was a keen observer) and seeing the humor in situations. He simply LOVED and recognized comedic genius, whether it was Chaplin, the Marx Brothers, Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd, Frank Capra, Sid Ceasar, Mel Brooks, Billy Crystal, Seinfeld. Or Gene Wilder. Is it any coincidence that he chose not to live in a world without Gene? Several hours before he crossed over, we put on music by his bedside and we heard "Putting on the Ritz"! Within hours, both he and Gene were making their respective crossings to a place of great hilarity and unbridled joy.

My take on things is that Barry could be beset by the kind of melancholy that haunts a romantic. Comedy was the antidote that he embraced whole-heartedly.

I only remember one time I specifically asked Barry to assist me with my homework. It was eighth grade English class with Mr Beard (a truly beloved teacher of mine). Dad was really not of any help to me and my memory is that he kind of blew me off.

Fast forward to when I am applying to law schools: in those dark days of 1979 you needed an essay. I asked dad to assist me. Next thing I knew, he had come up with the theme and written the first paragraph!!! He wrote about the Palmaghatt. A ravine with the last stand of old growth forest in the  Gunks and possibly his favorite place in nature.

The photo is of this essay.

Barry was the farthest thing from a "helicopter" or overly-involved parent! When I came home to visit from college one semester and stopped over to the luxurious Oster Garden Apartments to visit him I casually mentioned that I wanted to get my doctorate in History as my career path. From out of nowhere he really discouraged me from this. I listened to him. Hence, the wonderful involvement in assisting me to get into Georgetown Law with the essay. I think he really valued this career choice of mine although he was not one to say such things aloud.

Barry enjoyed making paper cut-out dolls. Here is a photo of a birthday card he made for my mother in the 1960s. It is Dorothy and the Scarecrow.

Barry loved to visit spiritual retreat properties and to participate in spiritual retreats. I had the pleasure of taking him to MSIA retreats in Ojai, CA (where we visited the Krishnamurti Library and Meditation Mount), Los Angeles (for MSIA annual Conference, Jerusalem (including baptism in the River Jordan), and several other adventures. 

I had been attending an MSIA retreat at the Menla Mountain Retreat property in Phoenicia, They had a sand mandala I wanted to show him so he came up. As we were strolling the property in the aimless way only Bort men can do, we came upon a woman sitting in an Adirondack chair with two other empty chairs by her. We were perhaps the only people on the Menla property at that time. It turned out we (mostly dad) had a wonderful schmooze with Nena Von Schlebrugge (former spouse of Timothy Leary), current spouse of Buddhist scholar Robert Thurman and mother of Uma Thurman (and three other children). It was old home week for the two of them!

Dad never saw a dog he didn't like. At one point we had three Bassett hounds he had rescued (plus three kids). The Bassett hound digestive process produces lots of gases as a byproduct. Nonetheless, Bassett hounds have a keen sense of smell. Dad would tell the story of how he took Smokey and Bilbo out for a hike. Dad was not one to use a leash. The two  dogs took off in pursuit of a three week old scent and ran right past a deer! The Bassett hounds would get lost and he would find them hours or days later. Once one of them got on the wrong end of a porcupine and Barry painstakingly ministered to the poor animal to remove the quills. Another time it was a skunk. And on and on...

Did anyone else form the impression of Barry as romantic? Here he is in the early 1950s choosing to quote from Rabindranath Tagore: I hold her hands and press her to my breast. I try to fill my arms with her loveliness, to plunder her sweet smile with kisses, to drink her dark glances with my eyes. Ah, but where is it? Who can strain the blue from the sky? I try to grasp the beauty; it eludes me, leaving only the body in my hands. Baffled and weary I come back. How can the body touch the flower which only the spirit may touch?

I think Barry was often in touch with the majesty of things spiritual and beautiful. I think he aspired to these experiences in the physical level of this world and often came up short. It is painful to miss the mark. He could really fully experience the joy in the play of a young child or a dog. He reached wonderful places in his exploration of literature, poetry and film. He drank up nature's beauty with great gusto. He loved a good laugh. But he experienced great melancholy at times as he saw the huge gap between what he envisioned for himself and what he created for himself.

As a teacher it was set up that people were always coming to him, listening to him, making him the center of attention. All this changed when he retired in 2007. If you were his friend he would tell you that retiring was the biggest mistake he ever made. And yet, when he retired at age 75, he told me "I am exhausted". That is why he retired; it was enough. He so missed all of the attention. He partially filled this void by spending time at Structure House in North Carolina in the winter (of his discontent). He would tell me about the wonderful and interesting people he would befriend there.

We who loved Barry know how much he loved to entice others to journal. The journal was the written submission in his film courses and he had his summer nature course students journal. My mother would sneak pages from his journal and after she died I found some pages. Here is an entry from May 12, 1961: "I'm a little at odds with myself today. I'm psychologically nervous, not calm. I suppose it comes from trying to do too much reading, leading me in too many directions: Dylan Thomas In America, Auden, French romantic poetry, etc. Also the weather, though lovely, has been hot today. Leaves are really starting to come out. Got a lovely bouquet of Adders Tongue yesterday with Peter. This weather (at least the brightness) makes me love Michigan. We are expecting a new arrival momentarily." [the new arrival was Sandra Elaine Bort born nineteen days later]

Here's one from May 24, 1961; Lovely weather -- cool, but pleasantly warm today. Never have I felt nature in its marvelous & winning objectivity as I have recently. Just shade, after the leafless winter, seems a marvelous and mysterious thing."

May 15, 1961: The leaves are out -- 2 1/2 days of warmth and they seem to spring from nowhere. All but the reticent oaks.The horse chestnut was first -- then the maples. Even the beech. Aspens too.I think I taught well today. It's so much better when I don't do it three times a week.,Then it becomes routine for both the students and me. And I become just another person to be put up with--so much I don't write here....

Here he is on January 8, 1961: Feeling very happy and carefree. Today I started writing in this thing. Back at school after a lovely vacation in Dixon and an uneventful bleak ride back to Mt Pleasant. There's a certain slant of light on winter afternoons that oppresses like the weight of cathedral XXXXX. Went out to cathedral woods with Jack today and we had a nice walk. Large trees. I got some fascinating books in Chicago over vacation and I am looking forward to reading them. I have been happy, good friends, pleasing reading, a sense of purpose, and exams coming up. A sense of well being pervades me these days. Nettie is rounding out nicely and Peter is getting very bossy. "No, I will, Yes, I won't."

January 12, 1961: I have enjoyed life here very much lately. It moves in a rather placid way: reading, teaching, and occasionally talking with people. I haven't had much time for meditation or the kind of thought I'd like......so much material for a novel here but it wouldn't be the kind of novel I'd like to write.

April 23, 1961: Went walking yesterday with Jack and Ron and Peter (Bort) in a little meadow with a twisting stream. The day before I took Peter on a walk in Cathedral woods. We enjoyed it. Today, Jack, Peter & I went to where the bridge is out on the Chippewa and picked Hepatica -- it covered the hillside in little clumps. We found what for me was a new flower -- Bloodroot. Then went riding the afternoon. Nettie not feeling well. Read Brecht: The Man & the Work tonight. Added another luminary to my collection of Germans.

April 26, 1961: I have been finishing my month of "German" readings. Last month was Enlightenment. Next month is French. And then vacation and work on my book (formerly my thesis). I have felt that somehow my class work has not been very rewarding; the spark is not here that I had at Wheaton. I feel consoled that no matter what happens outwardly, inwardly I am improving -- intellectually. I hope I can improve spiritually, physically and morally, too.

April 5,1961: Had a lovely Spring vacation -- walks in Cathedral Woods. True meditation, more Peace than I have ever felt. Though nothing more. Peter has been adorable -- tonight he got up at nine (didn't sleep) and played until now (10:35) -- full of the sweetest sayings. A happy peaceful time.

April 30, 1961: A few days ago - Thursday I guess - I saw my first Adders Tongue out by the new bridge over Mendian Road. With Peter. He is wonderful to take on walks. A week ago I took him with Ron and Jack and I along the little stream that joins into the Chippewa along Median. He loved throwing sticks and stones in the stream and had a gay time. He kept up with us walking in such a manly way -- no whining, very matter of fact. I will always remember him that way. Yesterday meditated a bit.

In the 1970s Barry taught several summer courses. The one he taught in 1975 was "Nature and Nature Writers". Here is the course description from "News from New Paltz": Students in this course will hike through the Shawangunks and view the rock formations, waterfalls, and lakes of the region, and visit the famous ice caves in Ellenville. The course will include reading of various nature writers, writing, and studying the edible wild foods of the area. During the trip you will read various works by Thoreau, Muir, and Burroughs which give different perspectives and views of nature: Thoreau deals with farms and forests, Muir writes about Yosemite and the Sierra, and Burroughs discusses the Hudson Valley, Catskill and Shawangunk areas. Students will write a journal based on readings and personal experiences. In addition to the five wilderness experiences, we are offering a special-interest trip for a small group of students who will travel up the Hudson on a 30-foot cabin cruiser! 

Attached is the letter his students got. My favorite line is "it's also a good idea to bring a change of underwear". We all know how attentive to personal hygiene was Barry! He tells them "most days we will swim", but notice he does not recommend bringing a bathing suit!

In the 1970s Barry had moved out of Rocky Hill Road into the Oster Garden Apartments (the peak of luxury at the time). He was paying alimony and child support to my mother. His salary remained fixed while inflation galloped away. He was motivated to seek ways to save money. It occurred to him that he could take a course at BOCES in auto repair and do his own repairs. At this time his stable of vehicles included a beetle and a camper (from 1970 on he always had at least two vehicles - don't ask me why) He learned how to change the oil, adjust headlamps, do a tune up (timing light!), rotate tires, add fluids, etc. I was fortunate enough to be his apprentice for some of this. He had a 1970 light blue beetle he had purchased second (or tenth) hand. In these days it seemed the price for used beetles was always $500. The wiper motor went bad. He purchased a used part and replaced it. Some months later this same beetle was my go away to college car. I picked up a girl in Woodstock and we were on our way in the dark of night to SUNY Binghamton with her cat and a painting she had done in the back seat. As we traversed a section of the road bisecting an old cemetery the AM radio was playing (I used to remember what song was playing as it was very ironic). In a moment all we heard was the sound of the wipers coming out of the speaker. Soon smoke came from the speaker. I pulled over and as we realized the car was catching fire we ran away. In a fit of chivalric innocence I ran back to rescue the painting (the cat was the first living thing to extract itself from the beetle). Mission accomplished. Dad and Jerry Greenfield came to get the burned out shell of a car the next day. Of course Jerry ingeniously tied a rope to the bumper and simply "towed" the car on the mountain roads (very safe!) Good thing Barry was able to save all that money on the wiper motor repair by doing it himself!

I'VE KNOWN BARRY FOR ABOUT 45 YEARS SO THERE ARE SO MANY STORIES BUT SOME PEOPLE (WHO WILL BE SCANNING THIS WEBSITE) HAVE TO DIE FIRST.