On August 7, 1933, my father was born in Jacksonville, Florida. He always made a big deal of his humble beginnings, and how special it was for him to get a chance to go to Harvard, but by the time I knew him, it didn’t seem like an accident. He was a successful architect, and a champion of historic preservation, which in the 1970s was a novel concept. He had a remarkable career as an architect, including leading the restoration of the main hall at Ellis Island, and being a finalist in the competition for the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. This work brought him to the top of his field. In 1984 he became president of the American Institute of Architects. Those of you in the association community certainly recognize what an accomplishment–and commitment and sacrifice–that was.
Sadly, my father was afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease. He was only in his late sixties when it was officially diagnosed. On one level it is sad to know of that fate relatively early in life, but on the other hand, it allowed us to make the most of the years he had left. I will always be grateful for that and the time we had together.
Those years came to an end this morning, as my father died at the age of 74. I am glad he is now at peace, as the final stages are never easy. It warms my heart that he seemingly held on for a few extra days just to allow time for my brother to fly in from his home in Japan, so the three of us could spend time together before and on Christmas day.
We are holding a memorial service on Sunday, December 30th, at the Cedar Lane Unitarian Church in Bethesda, Maryland (2 pm). I am so proud of who my father was as a professional, a father, and a man. As sad as this time is, I look forward to spending time with friends and family celebrating his life and what he meant to me and so many others.
I hesitated a little to write such a sad note in what is ordinarily a more provocative, thoughtful, and funny blog (and on the heels of my Blogger of the Year award no less!). But above all, this blog is an authentic expression of who I am and what’s important to me. With the loss of my father, George Notter, Jr., I am compelled to write this post, hoping it will help us to more fully cherish what we have, let go of what is not ours to possess, and love without conditions.
Jamie, may peace find you and your family now. Your father sounds like quite a guy and he’s left a great legacy.
Thank you for sharing what your father meant to you, even with all the emotions you must be dealing with. And if there’s anything you need, you have a whole community of your fans and supporters here who will do whatever we can to help you.
Be well.
Jamie,
You did well to write this post, to apprise us of the wonderful father you enjoyed, the meaningful success he made of his life, and the strong sons, who stand on their own feet, he raised.
Thank you for it.
Jamie, your tribute to your father is incredibly moving, and it makes very clear that the best of who he was lives on in you and Dave.
Sadly, many of us reading your words know the pain of losing a parent all too well. We understand at least some of what you’re feeling today, and we are with you in spirit. Do not hesitate to call on us for whatever you need.
Jamie, I am so sorry to hear this sad news. You are in my thoughts.
What a beautiful post. We’re here for you!
Hi Jamie,
I am sorry for your loss. Our thoughts and prayers will be with you and your family.
Thank you for your writing today. It is a rare person that dares to be human. Sharing this story gives all of us a sense of purpose, a connection to our own human-ness, and is a wonderful testament to the great life your father lived.
– Joe
Your beautiful tribute will indeed “help us to more fully cherish what we have, let go of what is not ours to possess, and love without conditions.” Thank you for reaching out to all of us during your time of sorrow.
My thoughts and prayers will be with you.
Jamie, thank you for posting on this, and my thoughts are with you and your family.
Jamie,
I’m sorry to hear about your dad. How wonderful your dad had a few last days together with both of his boys present.
We will keep you and your family in our thoughts and prayers.
Cynthia
“to more fully cherish what we have, let go of what is not ours to possess, and love without conditions.”
No doubt these are abilities you possess, Jamie, and teaching them to others appears to me to be your life’s work. Take solace that in this you daily honor your father’s life.
He sounds like such a terrific man. I’m not surprised to learn this.
Peace and strength to you and your family.
Craig
Jamie, I’m both an architect and the son of an architect. I’ve been active in the AIA and knew your father by reputation. You are quite justified in your pride of his accomplishments and contributions.
Having lost my own dad only a month ago, I appreciate more than I can say, your encouragement “to more fully cherish what we have, let go of what is not ours to possess, and love without conditions.”
You and I are blessed to have fathers who were our personal heroes.
I knew your father when I was President of the AIAFoundation (now American Architectural Foundation) in the 1970’s and early 80’s when he was active with AIA. He was a wonderful man and I was previleged to know and work with him. My condolences to you all,
Jeanne Butler
What a beautiful and fitting testimonial to someone so influential in your life. Thankfully, your family was there for him in his final hours. Know that you are in my family’s thoughts.
Jamie –
Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. Thank you for sharing with everyone your thoughts and memories of what sounds like a truly incredible man.
Thank you for sharing your personal feelings and thoughts. I offer you my deepest sympathy. We would all be so lucky to have such a man in our lives. You are testimony of what a fine man your dad was. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
Sincerely,
Cindy
Jamie, my thoughts have been with you. Thanks for sharing this beautiful remembrance and I wish you and your family peace in the new year.
I hope that you heal in time. Thanks for this lovely post, you are so lucky to have had such a great man in your life. My thoughts will be with you and yours as we enter this new year.
Jamie —
I’m glad that you posted your thoughts and feelings about your father. Sometimes in our hectic e-world we become immune to our deepest human traits: emotions of loss. Your insights on the death of your father and your willingness to share those with your blog community are gifts perhaps more powerful than you can imagine.
Even as a new year begins and the world continues, I understand that yours has changed. May the memories of your father become treasures of your heart —
Your father was an inspiring man, I met him and his firm in the late 70’s and continue to embrace historic preservation because of his dynamic architecture. Just thought I would let you know the depth of his influence.
Margy Parisella, AIA, AZ State Parks
Dear Jamie,
I was shocked yesterday afternoon as I opened the AIArchitect This Week to read that George Notter had died. I had last talked with George at the AIA national convention when it met in New Orleans. That was 1997, if I remember correctly, the year I was serving as President, AIA Cleveland.
It also must have been shortly before his diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. It’s a hideous condition which I think actually may be a lot worse for close family members than for the recipient him or herself.
I had first met George when I joined the class at the Harvard Graduate School of Design in 1956. George’s desk was diagonally in front of mine and I remember many occasions of him standing and making some wry comment or observation about the state our circumstances or conditions.
Since that time George, obviously, went on to make significant contributions to his community and profession. Of life’s great rewards I believe that the satisfaction that comes from the recognition of valuable, worthwhile and important service is among the greatest. Therefore, I am so glad to read that you understand the value and importance of George’s contributions.
Sincerely
I was a childhood friend of George Notter we lived on the same street in Neptune Beach Fla that was during World War II. He was a smart kid and we played sand lot softball togeather with the other neighbor hood kids. I also remember his mother Ione and father George Senior.