I was a bit surprised not to see more remembrances of Sandy appearing here. Though there is a series of comments on Roger Burk’s profile page amongst several of our classmates in which they speak of Sandy in very nice ways.
I would like to take this occasion to speak of him. I got to know Sandy during 10th grade in the team teaching unit although I had met him once, briefly, in 9th grade—we went to different schools until Millikan. The 120 kids in that team teaching unit would sometimes meet all together in the large lecture/conference room at the end of the hall, but we were divided into permanent English and Social Studies classes, four classes in all, which we attended in the regular classrooms along the hallway. He and I were never in those specific classes together which I thought then and now was a pity.
I recognized quickly and with admiration that Sandy was the most intellectually sophisticated among us. There was a very attractive solidity and dynamism in how he thought and spoke and in his generalized bearing. He had flair; he was dashing. He was charismatic in the good sense of the word. The aura of great promise surrounded him, yes, wonderful and great promise. He impressed in that manner where the impression resonates warmly within us. I liked him immediately and very much. We became friends.
And in 11th grade we became even better friends and for a time and regularly we would hang out together during an evening. He would drive over to my house and then we would go out somewhere and talk of the proverbial “many things”. But at a certain point during that year he seemed to become somewhat subdued. There were moments when he was pensive. I could see he was anguished. I felt bad, felt bad for him. I sought in the best ways I could to distract him from his troubles, from the thoughts and feelings that, doubtless, pained him. Sometimes our get togethers would have that sparkle and flash, our discussions the vivid colors and textures that we had experienced when first we began spending extended times together. But this was no longer the general rule. His father was ill; it was an irrevocable and terminal affliction. My mother and his mother were friends. I learned from my mother about his father’s illness and the effects it was having on Sandy’s mother and on the family and Sandy. The weight which Sandy now carried in soul and sinew too I am sure was evident and it grieved me and, of course, it grieved and pained him much, much more.
In 12th grade, in addition to the team teaching unit, we were also in Mrs. Danielson’s creative writing class. It was fourth period and lunch succeeded the class. We would often walk together to lunch and sometimes take lunch together. But that quietness which had overtaken him remained. I tried to draw him out when it seemed possible that it would not be an imposition or simply an added weight. Sometimes he would suddenly emerge and our conversation would have all the dynamism of earlier days.
But then he didn’t appear in class for several days, and for several days beyond that. It turned out that he had left school. I tried to get in touch with him but it wasn’t possible at that time and I myself was caught up in the whirlwinds of youth, of the tumultuous and swirling times....
And so years went by. I did hear that his father had passed. And I could imagine what Sandy felt then and what he would undoubtedly be feeling. I hoped that wherever he was that he would be doing well, that despite everything he might find happiness, fulfillment, good fortune. I never forgot him and I thought of him often.
I was not able to attend the 10th or 20th reunions, but I did attend the 30th reunion although, unfortunately, I was late arriving. Rushing out of the elevator I made my way to the entrance of what appeared to be the main event room when, just before passing through the entrance, I heard my name called. I turned to my right and at the end of the hallway and in the middle of a side hallway I saw someone gesture to me. I approached him, but did not instantly recognize him; he said, “Steve, it’s Sandy!”
O, what an absolutely lovely surprise, what a beautiful gift! It was unexpected. We embraced. I felt a glow inside. I smiled and my smile carried all the great affection, love, and admiration I felt for him. He was pleased too and he smiled so very warmly in return.
We talked nonstop other than for a moment or two when this or that classmate came over to say hello. And then we would resume. When we finally looked up the main event room was virtually empty. Almost everyone had left. We resolved to stay in touch and get together when possible. I was going to be leaving shortly thereafter for Paris for two semesters but that did not preclude us speaking on the phone prior to my departure or when I was in Paris.
But I had heard from a mutual friend that he was now ill with the same affliction that had beset his father. I felt a measureless anguish. An inconsolable sadness. The fates can be so unkind....
The last time we spoke it was only a brief conversation because I had an obligation I needed to fulfill at that moment. I thought I could call him back later that day but I wasn’t able to, nor the next day. And then I could not reach him and it turned out, as I found out later, that he had passed. Trop tard et jamais plus! Words we never want to hear, feelings we never want to have. Too late and never more! I felt remorse because our last conversation had been too brief, but there was nothing for it, alas and alas....
Yet, the wondrous greeting, meeting, and affections we shared and exchanged at the 30th reunion will ever be with me, warm and in marvelous vivacity, as I know we both were that evening, ever smiling, ever so happy to be in each other’s presence after so many years.
What can I say as a salutation, as a thank you, and over and against the sorrow I will always feel in relation to the tribulations he suffered and in view of his early passing? Just this, ever this: I admired him greatly, I felt great love and affection for him. He was a very good fellow, very good indeed!
Steve, I appreciate the kind and heartfelt thoughts about Sandy that you shared. Although there were quite a few talented and intelligent teens in our circles, he stood out as being unique. A relatively quiet, humble, well dressed, and kind person with a wonderful smile and laughter. How often did we judge people by their external trappings without a hint of the personal turmoil or trauma that was hidden inside? I always felt that he had so much to offer and looked forward to learning whatever that might be. May his memory always be a blessing.
Thank you for sharing those memories. I am so glad you had those moments with him. I'm sure it meant a lot to him and that you could see that in him as well. I'm so saddened by his illness and the legacy he inherited and had to live with.
Thank you Steve for a deeper view into Sandy's time at Millikan. I always enjoyed him but we were never really friends outside of school. Like so many of us at that age, you simply look past someone and don't see the textures of their life. So much superficiality! One lesson I have learned that I hang onto is that if you don't agree with or at least understand someone, you just don't know enough about their life. So many of our fellow students were struggling with monumental problems or have since. We all can use more compassion, both to receive and to share. You have written with great compassion and I'm sure Sandy treasured his friendship with you. He had such a great time dancing at the 30th reunion - he and that energy will be missed.
Thank you for your beautiful remembrance, Steve. I do remember being in Mrs. Danielsen's creative writing class with both of you. Sandy was an intriguing person, no doubt of it. I'm so sorry to hear that he's gone.
he used to love to push buttons. Just say vagina vagina vagina until people would go nuts. and his hair was great. Such a sweet person. A gentle soul with a twist. Great guy. I would've like to say goodbye to him. what a bummer. This is making me feel old.
SPIEGEL, Bruce "Sandy" 1951-2006 Sandy passed away on May 30, 2006 from multiple sclerosis. Musician, mystic, poet and thinker, he is dearly loved and will be missed by us all. Born and raised in Long Beach by parents, Keith and Marian, he is survived by his mother and older brother. Open services held at Mount Sinai Memorial Park, Los Angeles on Sunday, June 4 at 1 PM.
Steve Light
I was a bit surprised not to see more remembrances of Sandy appearing here. Though there is a series of comments on Roger Burk’s profile page amongst several of our classmates in which they speak of Sandy in very nice ways.
I would like to take this occasion to speak of him. I got to know Sandy during 10th grade in the team teaching unit although I had met him once, briefly, in 9th grade—we went to different schools until Millikan. The 120 kids in that team teaching unit would sometimes meet all together in the large lecture/conference room at the end of the hall, but we were divided into permanent English and Social Studies classes, four classes in all, which we attended in the regular classrooms along the hallway. He and I were never in those specific classes together which I thought then and now was a pity.
I recognized quickly and with admiration that Sandy was the most intellectually sophisticated among us. There was a very attractive solidity and dynamism in how he thought and spoke and in his generalized bearing. He had flair; he was dashing. He was charismatic in the good sense of the word. The aura of great promise surrounded him, yes, wonderful and great promise. He impressed in that manner where the impression resonates warmly within us. I liked him immediately and very much. We became friends.
And in 11th grade we became even better friends and for a time and regularly we would hang out together during an evening. He would drive over to my house and then we would go out somewhere and talk of the proverbial “many things”. But at a certain point during that year he seemed to become somewhat subdued. There were moments when he was pensive. I could see he was anguished. I felt bad, felt bad for him. I sought in the best ways I could to distract him from his troubles, from the thoughts and feelings that, doubtless, pained him. Sometimes our get togethers would have that sparkle and flash, our discussions the vivid colors and textures that we had experienced when first we began spending extended times together. But this was no longer the general rule. His father was ill; it was an irrevocable and terminal affliction. My mother and his mother were friends. I learned from my mother about his father’s illness and the effects it was having on Sandy’s mother and on the family and Sandy. The weight which Sandy now carried in soul and sinew too I am sure was evident and it grieved me and, of course, it grieved and pained him much, much more.
In 12th grade, in addition to the team teaching unit, we were also in Mrs. Danielson’s creative writing class. It was fourth period and lunch succeeded the class. We would often walk together to lunch and sometimes take lunch together. But that quietness which had overtaken him remained. I tried to draw him out when it seemed possible that it would not be an imposition or simply an added weight. Sometimes he would suddenly emerge and our conversation would have all the dynamism of earlier days.
But then he didn’t appear in class for several days, and for several days beyond that. It turned out that he had left school. I tried to get in touch with him but it wasn’t possible at that time and I myself was caught up in the whirlwinds of youth, of the tumultuous and swirling times....
And so years went by. I did hear that his father had passed. And I could imagine what Sandy felt then and what he would undoubtedly be feeling. I hoped that wherever he was that he would be doing well, that despite everything he might find happiness, fulfillment, good fortune. I never forgot him and I thought of him often.
I was not able to attend the 10th or 20th reunions, but I did attend the 30th reunion although, unfortunately, I was late arriving. Rushing out of the elevator I made my way to the entrance of what appeared to be the main event room when, just before passing through the entrance, I heard my name called. I turned to my right and at the end of the hallway and in the middle of a side hallway I saw someone gesture to me. I approached him, but did not instantly recognize him; he said, “Steve, it’s Sandy!”
O, what an absolutely lovely surprise, what a beautiful gift! It was unexpected. We embraced. I felt a glow inside. I smiled and my smile carried all the great affection, love, and admiration I felt for him. He was pleased too and he smiled so very warmly in return.
We talked nonstop other than for a moment or two when this or that classmate came over to say hello. And then we would resume. When we finally looked up the main event room was virtually empty. Almost everyone had left. We resolved to stay in touch and get together when possible. I was going to be leaving shortly thereafter for Paris for two semesters but that did not preclude us speaking on the phone prior to my departure or when I was in Paris.
But I had heard from a mutual friend that he was now ill with the same affliction that had beset his father. I felt a measureless anguish. An inconsolable sadness. The fates can be so unkind....
The last time we spoke it was only a brief conversation because I had an obligation I needed to fulfill at that moment. I thought I could call him back later that day but I wasn’t able to, nor the next day. And then I could not reach him and it turned out, as I found out later, that he had passed. Trop tard et jamais plus! Words we never want to hear, feelings we never want to have. Too late and never more! I felt remorse because our last conversation had been too brief, but there was nothing for it, alas and alas....
Yet, the wondrous greeting, meeting, and affections we shared and exchanged at the 30th reunion will ever be with me, warm and in marvelous vivacity, as I know we both were that evening, ever smiling, ever so happy to be in each other’s presence after so many years.
What can I say as a salutation, as a thank you, and over and against the sorrow I will always feel in relation to the tribulations he suffered and in view of his early passing? Just this, ever this: I admired him greatly, I felt great love and affection for him. He was a very good fellow, very good indeed!
Joyce Patti (Seymour)
Thank you for posting such a beautiful rememberance Steve......True Frienship is rare and precious. One soul in two bodies.
Phyllis Reisman (Kasparian)
What beautiful sentiments, Steve - thank you for sharing with us.
Linda Temkin (Waltzman)
Steve, I appreciate the kind and heartfelt thoughts about Sandy that you shared. Although there were quite a few talented and intelligent teens in our circles, he stood out as being unique. A relatively quiet, humble, well dressed, and kind person with a wonderful smile and laughter. How often did we judge people by their external trappings without a hint of the personal turmoil or trauma that was hidden inside? I always felt that he had so much to offer and looked forward to learning whatever that might be. May his memory always be a blessing.
Susan Beaver (Saint)
Thank you for sharing those memories. I am so glad you had those moments with him. I'm sure it meant a lot to him and that you could see that in him as well. I'm so saddened by his illness and the legacy he inherited and had to live with.
Bonnie MacEvoy
Thank you Steve for a deeper view into Sandy's time at Millikan. I always enjoyed him but we were never really friends outside of school. Like so many of us at that age, you simply look past someone and don't see the textures of their life. So much superficiality! One lesson I have learned that I hang onto is that if you don't agree with or at least understand someone, you just don't know enough about their life. So many of our fellow students were struggling with monumental problems or have since. We all can use more compassion, both to receive and to share. You have written with great compassion and I'm sure Sandy treasured his friendship with you. He had such a great time dancing at the 30th reunion - he and that energy will be missed.
Kristie Fawcett
Thank you for your beautiful remembrance, Steve. I do remember being in Mrs. Danielsen's creative writing class with both of you. Sandy was an intriguing person, no doubt of it. I'm so sorry to hear that he's gone.Valya Walker
he used to love to push buttons. Just say vagina vagina vagina until people would go nuts. and his hair was great. Such a sweet person. A gentle soul with a twist. Great guy. I would've like to say goodbye to him. what a bummer. This is making me feel old.
Chris Myers
I knew Sandy as a musician. We played together in High School and he was a wonderful guitarist and a real sweet and light spirit. RIP Sandy.
Ray Corbin
FYI-Sandy's Obituary
Bruce Spiegel Obituary
SPIEGEL, Bruce "Sandy" 1951-2006 Sandy passed away on May 30, 2006 from multiple sclerosis. Musician, mystic, poet and thinker, he is dearly loved and will be missed by us all. Born and raised in Long Beach by parents, Keith and Marian, he is survived by his mother and older brother. Open services held at Mount Sinai Memorial Park, Los Angeles on Sunday, June 4 at 1 PM.