Sometimes, You Need To Find How You Got Here

It may be a parent, a sibling, a grandparent or a best friend. This time it's a teacher.

As a prelude to today’s piece, a few weeks ago I was informed that a high school teacher of ours, Lillian Mackel, was in failing health. Her daughter, Dana, although far younger than me, I knew from attending the same elementary and high school, Morgan Park Academy, on Chicago’s far south side, informed me of Lil’s condition. She kindly asked me to pass the word among fellow students, many of whom because of Lillian’s classes, drama productions, and mentorship have stayed close over these past 50 years.

I was asked to write a letter that Dana would read out loud to her mother, Lillian. She also ask me to mail so she had a hard copy. Never being able to follow directions from anyone, I wrote it, electronically sent it, and today am mailing a hard copy to their home in Southern California. I also shared it with my closest friends from that time, most of whom have all kept in touch, also emailing a copy to Morgan Park Academy, per Dana’s request.

I wasn't prepared for the beautiful responses I received from fellow students and the school. I’m grateful that Dana asked me spread the word about Lillian’s decline in health as it gave many of us a chance to share more stories spanning 50 years as well as an excuse for us to remain close.

Here’s a copy of that letter. I’m sharing it on my own platform as it explains somewhat how I got into the entertainment and ultimately the advertising industry, along with selected photos. As you can see, Lillian wasn’t just a drama teacher and well-known stage director, she also acted in commercials, film and stage.

I’m certain that all of you, somewhere at sometime, have had a Lillian Mackel in your lives. Here’s mine.

Ho, ho, HO!

__________________________________

Letter to Lillian,

Hi Lillian, Ms Mackel, or Momma,
Sorry to hear that you aren't feeling yourself these days. Life can take cruel turns on us in a New York minute.

I think it's important that while we are all still on this Earth that we don't wait to tell important people in our lives just how much they mean to them. Not meant but mean. You taught me in 8th grade how to use my words wisely and to proofread them too. That alone has gotten me places since you first were our English teacher as well as our early morning home-room welcoming face each day.

My 8th grade at MPA with you beginning your first year there on the faculty was such a welcome life change. I always looked forward to coming to school every morning that year as you were always there, everyday to greet us with your warm smiling face a booming voice. You always had our attention from 8:15am onward. That was 52 years ago, can you believe that? Seems like yesterday. What a wonderful way to start each school day for us 8th graders.

Then you became our drama teacher/director which had a positive impact on our lives.

For a few hours every day, you let us be ourselves and show off our talents while being in a very safe and fun setting. You should know that since eighth grade many of us have kept our friendships and stay in touch.

Without your guidance I would never have had the courage to speak in public, tell funny stories, write witty (well, I think they're witty) columns for the advertising industry, and have a greater appreciation for the arts. Even my parents would say "thank God for that woman, my kids can sing, dance, entertain crowds" all while being friendly, open and most important, funny.

You taught me how be Santa Claus , how to bellow HO HO HO from the bottom of my stomach. I think I was Santa twice during high school. Me, Santa! That's an honor.
Years later I would volunteer to play Santa again, 1989 and 1990 in all places, New York City in the middle of Madison Avenue. Yep, I was the Official Santa Claus of USA Today.

When they asked me if I knew what I was doing I simply said "I was professionally trained at a young age to be Santa". They really thought I went to Santa school and even encouraged me to go down the street to Macy's and be a Christmas Santa. Considering I was only 32 years old I opted out.
I tell that story to my kids nieces and nephews and they all say "you would make a great Santa"!

I also remember your awesome stories like the time you had a young man in your class, maybe in Indiana, who was waiting for his father to pick him up at the end of the school day. After all the kids but this one were picked up, the young man said "hey that's my Dad!" You looked up and saw what looked to be Paul Newman. As he got closer you told us you saw those "big blue eyes" and you quickly put together the young man's last name and who was on your sights.
It was the iconic actor, Paul Newman.

Years later, maybe 2007, I saw Robert Redford in front of me entering the United Airlines Club in Los Angeles LAX airport. I waited for the right moment and said confidently "excuse me Mr Redford, my family was in the motion picture industry and we played every one of your films!" I told I acted as a hobby and my best friends had become filmmakers. Before he could say another word I told him "my high school drama teacher, Lillian, once taught Paul Newman's son and got a chance meet him in person, so there hotshot"! He stared at me with more of those big blue eyes and burst out laughing. He said "that's so good. I believe you."

You know since that eighth grade you really did help us become incredible story tellers. I can't tell you how important that's been in raising children and the workplace where I deal with advertising executives all day long.

The impact you had on so many of us way back when was incredible.
Peter Babakitis, Mark Jundanian, Ara Pridjian, my brother Jim. Kathy Casten, Nancy Levin, Don Norton. Elaine Grossman, you know I could go on and on, and even after we graduated, there was so many more students, like the Drynan brothers that you brought out of their shells. We all owe you and more importantly are so lucky to have had you in our lives during those years.

I think we even have pictures of you at the Thespian meetings in our house in Beverly and then another time, I don't know whose graduation party it was but you were there dancing in the backyard with other guests. I know I have photos somewhere as soon as I find them they're going your way.

So hang in there know how much you're loved and thought of and the incredible positive impact you had on so many of us. I know you may not wanna hear it, but you were bigger than life to us.

You are our own."Auntie Mame."

The Rosalyn Russell version of course.

Just like when you entered the room, I believe it was my mother's wake in 2014, Southside in Beverly, we were all tired and hungry, and getting ready to leave for the night when all of a sudden the door burst open and you walked in with a big smile on your face. We yelled "Lillian!" You had all of us Coston's spellbound with your dramatic entrance, which cheered us all up, making a sad day end on a very high note. In fact, we all walked out of the funeral home together. I can't tell you how much that meant to all of us and you had driven all the way from the north side just for a half hour visit. It was the last time we saw you in person. Events like that definitely stay in our hearts all these years.

This isn't the last letter I'm gonna write we will stay in touch .

Much love and admiration,
Nick Coston (aka Mr Papillion, King Pellinore, the mean judge from the Crucible, Santa Claus and Sancho Panza among others.