Memorial Gathering for Bert Stanger Sunday, December 4
We are planning a memorial gathering and celebration of Bert’s life. Family and friends are all welcome to join us and share their thoughts and experiences with Bert. Please feel free to invite anyone else who might want to come. It will be on Sunday afternoon, December 4, 2011 at 3:00 PM at the Knights of Columbus Hall at 105 Grove Avenue in Maywood. For any additional information, call Sue at 201-825-1570.
Courtesy of Estelle, we'll have bagels, lox, cake and coffee before the memorial.
BERT STANGER TRIBUTES FROM FRAN CHESLEIGH AND SUE DALLON
Hello everyone, Fran here with your Tango Tip of the Week. As many of you know, Bert Stanger, husband of Estelle, father of Elana, Firehouse regular, and our very good friend, died of cancer recently. I want to pass along to you, his fellow Tango dancers at the Firehouse, what Bert taught me about dancing Tango.
In 2002, I began holding my weekly Saturday practica at Dance Manhattan. Initially, we had somewhere between 10 and 15 people in attendance. Since many of them were my students, I spent the bulk of the 2 hours solving dance problems and giving pointers in order to help these students get better.
One Saturday, a “real” dancer came to the practica. “What is this guy doing here?” I thought. His rhythm was superb; he moved effortlessly around the floor; he danced with all the women; he seemed truly at home with Tango. I assumed he was from Argentina.
At some point, I decided to ask his name – I wondered whether I should try speaking to him in Spanish – but opted instead for English for fear of embarrassing myself by saying the wrong thing. To tell you the truth, I was slightly intimidated by the quality of his dance craft – I mean, he made it all look so easy!
Our conversation went something like this:
“Hi, I’m Fran Chesleigh; I host this practica. Are you from Argentina?”
Big smile.
“No, actually I’m from the Bronx.”
Stunned.
“Really! What’s your name, if I may ask.”
“Bert.”
I was nothing short of nonplussed. I asked Bert how he learned to dance Tango so well. He told me he hadn’t learned Tango yet – he was just starting out.
“You’re kidding right?”
“No, seriously.”
I stammered something about how great he was for someone who was a beginning dancer. He insisted that he had no idea what he was doing, and that he was just imitating what he saw other people doing. Then, he asked:
“Could you watch me from time to time, and tell me what I’m doing wrong?”
Stifling the urge to choke, I muttered something about, well, yes, of course, I’ll be happy to give you a few pointers once in a while …. But what I was thinking was that Bert looked like he had been dancing Tango all his life, and anything I might say could possibly ruin a good thing. My inclination was to shut up and enjoy the show.
Over the years that I’ve known Bert, I’ve watched his dancing a lot. Because I’m a teacher, our interactions regarding dance have revolved principally around my dispensing steps, and Bert joining classes, trying to figure out how to make these things his own. He didn’t particularly like this process. He often told me that he felt a bit dyslexic, and did everything backwards.
I always said: “You just keep doing what you do and don’t worry about dance steps.”
Bert was a natural. He had grace; he had rhythm; he had timing; he had a sense of the floor – meaning that he rarely collided with other dancers. Two other qualities that I saw in Bert, qualities that I will forever try to emulate in my own dancing: Bert had boundless humility and joy. These qualities defined Bert’s life in general, of course. At his funeral, and then at his shiva, anyone who spoke about Bert commented again and again about these laudable qualities. And to see them reflected in his dancing was something wondrous.
If Bert were still with us, I know he’d shrug off all this praise with a comment like:
“Oh, well...”
But I won’t let him get away with that. By the way he danced – and by the way Bert lived his all too short life – he taught me, and I guess many other people, a profound lesson in not only how to dance, but how to be on this earth.
I will never forget Bert Stanger. I will miss his presence in my life, and I will try my very best to emulate what he taught me.
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Below, for those of you who weren't able to attend Bert's funeral, are my thoughts about our dear and wonderful friend.
We're dedicating this Thursday's Firehouse milonga to Bert, and instead of the usual fare of pasta and chicken, we'll have his favorite meal - pastrami and rye. I'm ordering lots of food, so make sure to join us.
For the many folks who asked about sending cards and notes, here are Estelle's postal and e mail addresses: 92 Van Cortland Pk So 11A Bronx NY 10463 bertelle@prodigy.net.
My Dear and Great Friend, Bert Stanger - by Susanne Dallon 08-30-2011
· Our first conversation, seven years ago, started with Bert asking for directions to Firehouse and ended with both of us laughing hysterically. By the time he walked through the door, we had already forged an instant and powerful bond.
· We discovered that we had been born within two months and a few miles of each other. We both loved dancing, eating, talking, and socializing. We shared liberal political views and a love of the culture, philosophy and roots of Judaism. We were destined to become friends.
· Bert was, without a doubt, the sweetest human being I have ever met - only Estelle comes close. He loved everything - his wife Estelle and daughter Elana; his friends; his antique store; his self described weekly parties at Firehouse Tango; and his life. A hearty laugh was never far off.
· A word about those weekly parties: Bert and Estelle were major players at the dinner and conversation table - sharing food and fun with old and new friends alike.
He took time to dance with every lady and to find something special about each of us. He loved the birthday dances and never failed to join them. We laughed when he would cut in for the birthday dance of a guy friend or when Steve, Dave or Walter would finish Bert's own celebratory tango.
He made a point of introducing himself to everyone who entered.
He and Estelle were mainstays of the cleanup team -He was the master of round tablecloth folding and took time to pass that skill on to others. He and Estelle always stayed till the last minute. They were our biggest fans, and we theirs.
· And a word about Bert and Estelle. Their e mail address - Bertelle - says it all. They were one.
Glance at the anniversary and birthday pictures on the Firehouse Tango web site and you will clearly see their love and delight in each other. One anniversary Estelle wasn't feeling up to par. She danced the first tango with Bert and then insisted that he continue with the rest of the Firehouse tangueras while she sat down.
Sharing their wedding album from nearly 50 years ago, we found a gorgeous Estelle and a handsome Bert, who looked like Fred Astaire in top hat and tails.
In Buenos Aires a few years ago they we like Abbott and Costello - she was his perfect foil. Estelle's Spanish was slow and hesitant but completely understandable
(E S T A - B I EN.) oweH Bert, on the other hand, made up much of his impressive vocabulary but delivered it with such fluidity and confidence that you'd think he'd been born in downtown San Juan.
They were - and are - the perfect pair - each contributing the proverbial 100% and each caring more about the other than themselves. They shared passions for antiques (and junk,) dancing, and socializing with their countless friends. They sheltered each other and their daughter Elana. They were without a doubt the most wonderful couple I have ever met.
· The diagnosis and progression of cancer was lightning fast. He faced it with humor; fought it with ferocity; discussed it openly; and later accepted it with dignity.
He delivered the news to me, flippantly commenting that everyone has to die of something.
Our frequent and lengthy telephone conversations during the last months were profound, touching and memorable. We talked about everything from his feelings about death and dying to the good times at Firehouse and at the store; his wonderful family; his childhood; and his horrible blind date with a girl who lived on Anthony Avenue in the Bronx, my early home.
· In our last conversation, just two days before he died, he told me that he was thankful to be comfortable and pain free with so many caring people to love.
He wasn't scared or sad. Rather, he saw flashes of friends and family who had passed and was looking forward to seeing them again. His only concern was for Estelle.
He wanted a closed coffin - he didn't like the idea of folks looking at him and laughing - he preferred looking down and laughing at us.
He said he had no regrets and had done everything that he ever wanted to do. He told me how much he loved Estelle and Elana and how much Joe and I and the Firehouse family had meant to him
· Sunday morning about 3 AM as Bert passed, our lights went out. He was saying good bye. When the power returned at 6:30 AM, it was him letting us know that he had arrived safely at a wonderful place.
I can't imagine life without Bert. Yet as he would wish, all of us, especially Estelle and Elana, will never forget him and will continue to live our lives with strength, love, and joy - just the way he taught us.