Deceased October 10, 2011
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Remembrance delivered at Eric’s Memorial Service on Nov. 5, 2011, by Curt I. Civin ’70
On Oct. 10, 2011, Eric Winslow Wodlinger died in the comfort of his own home, with Hilary, Nicola, and David at his side. He is survived by his wife of 37 years, Hilary, his beloved children, Nicola and David, his brother Paul of Seattle and his mother Gerda of San Francisco. This was from the published obituaries, but there’s so much more.
Death came just five months after a highly aggressive glioblastoma revealed itself this past spring. This was Ted Kennedy’s cancer. Massachusetts General Hospital’s neuro-oncologists prescribed intensive radiation and chemotherapy, and instead of the planned vacation in Italy, Eric, Hilary, Nicola, and David fought through the effects of the cancer and its therapy. Full cognition returned, but Eric’s balance and strength did not come back – No more playing tennis.
Eric graduated magna cum laude from Amherst College in 1970 majoring in American Studies. Amherst roommate Jay Reich remembered Eric’s many-sidedness, perhaps due to his growing up in Larchmont, N.Y. and then Kodiak, Alaska. “While at Amherst, otherwise bookish Eric spent summers in the wilds of Kodiak Island with supplies flown in, carrying a rifle to protect him from bears and wearing mosquito netting while he caught and killed salmon to count fish eggs.”
Scott Turow, also a college roommate, observed that “Wod was a brilliant guy, with a sly sense of humor. He always enjoyed his own jokes, imparting them with a delighted gap-toothed smile. He was an odd blend of old-world formality and occasional social cluelessness, combined with frequent outbursts of admirably original thinking. He was curious always, intense, and energetic, rarely angry and generally greatly amused by life’s ironies.”
Eric received his JD from Harvard Law School in 1973. Jay Reich, again a roommate, reminisced: “During law school, we would religiously watch Monday night football as a diversion from law school, and Hilary would bake wonderful meringues for us. Eric and Hilary were madly in love.” (Hilary tells me she does not remember the meringues.)
My wife, Nancy, and I have fond memories and some great photos from those early Boston years of hyper-caloric feasts with Eric and Hilary. We have found a recipe for “Chicken Hilary,” which included amounts of butter that must have halved the bores of all of our blood vessels; I thought I should burn it. But Eric recently mentioned tongue-in-cheek that perhaps he should have eaten more butter! A summer Boston Esplanade concert photo from 1973 shows the four of us enjoying an elegant picnic with champagne in Wodlinger crystal glasses and shrimp on their china – Eric and Hilary wanted to enjoy the moments and knew that material possessions were important only if they were used.
During these same years, Eric’s spot-on observations probably helped me in at least one major career decision. One evening after dinner, I recall regaling assembled Boston friends with the wonders of modern medicine and specifically how exciting it was to be able to save so many terribly sick adults during my current clerkships on the intensive care units. After all the bloody details, Eric asked me how many of these patients were still alive a month later. The answer — zero — factored into my choice to train in pediatrics, where I could hope to contribute to curing some patients.
Eric and Hilary asked me to be a groomsman in their wedding on Long Island. By this time, I was a pediatric resident, and had to sleep every third night at Boston Children’s Hospital. So it would have to be a quick trip, but my $9,000 yearly salary would never cover the airfare. Before I could voice a concern, Eric and Hilary asked if Nancy and I would do them an additional favor. They planned to fly immediately from their wedding to a honeymoon and then back to Boston. But they would need their car in Long Island. So, the “favor” they requested was whether we would allow them to fly and limo us to Long Island, and then drive their little BMW pocket rocket back to Boston for them. When I tried to thank Eric, he said, “We wanted you there.” Such empathy and grace!
Eric made partner in two prestigious law firms, and was a tremendously effective presence for decades on the Martha’s Vineyard Commission and Cape Cod Commission. Specializing in land use and zoning, Eric was recognized as a New England Super Lawyer and listed in Best Lawyers in America (honors that Eric insisted were created to sell lots of unattractive wall plaques!). Eric’s interests were diverse but intense, including history, literature, all the arts especially opera, and a love of travel and fine dining. And of course his beloved tennis.
Again and again, it came back to tennis. Although unable to play tennis anymore, this July Eric was able to watch most of the US Open Tennis Tournament on the big screen TV in his family room. Nancy and I watched a match with the Wodlingers soon after Eric’s cancer therapy was completed. Between volleys, we spoke of how the years and events had changed us. Then with teary eyes and a catch in his throat, Eric described how long it had taken him to realize that Hilary, Nicola and David constituted his most important contributions and greatest joys. Looking around the room, this was so obviously the case. There was Hilary, proclaiming travel Italy advice to Nancy in a bubbly voice … Nicola chiming in, looking and acting in such an engaged and caring way, so much like a young Hilary … and David, who several times spooked me by sounding and acting just like Eric. David picked up one of my phone calls, and responded to my awkward opening question of “How are you guys doing?” by the Eric-type signature faux-caustic, overly analytic response of “Well, some of us are doing better than others.”
By summer’s end, the glioblastoma was back. Although today’s medical science is revealing the exact mutations that cause cancers, there is not yet a “good” cancer, where the doctor can say take two pills and call me if it doesn’t go away. Still, glioblastoma is one of the least responsive of cancers. And Eric’s glioblastoma was the worst of the worst.
Scott Turow noted how Nicola and David “were remarkably impressed by the way Eric accepted the news that the last treatments had not done anything to prolong his life. Nicola, who I’m sure was crushed, asked him if he was angry that he was ending up on the bad end of the bell curve on life expectancy. She says he was completely accepting. He told her he could get angry, but what sense did that make when it would only mar the little time he had left. Eric always told it as it was. His kids laughed out loud about his frequently-frustrated efforts to get them out on the tennis court. But the respectful and loving way they talked about their father was deeply striking. They showed no confusion about how much they cherished him.”
Eric and Hilary honored me by asking me to help them understand and adapt to what the doctors were telling them. I have never experienced a couple who dealt with dying better than they did. I will never forget a phone conversation where we were rather suddenly discussing the issue of exactly how much chemotherapy and life support Eric might be willing to suffer if he were not in a coherent state. In an appropriate lawyerly fashion, Eric said that he had already signed over “these sorts of details” to Hilary. I pitched the point that it would be easier on Hilary if Eric would make the details of his preferences very clear to Hilary and the kids well in advance. With perfect timing, Eric finally uttered plaintively and a little angrily “But what about me?!” I’m the doctor, but once again, Eric taught me something about patient care.
College friends Frank and Reggie Thomas reminisced that “talking with Eric was always an adventure — we often didn’t know where the conversation would go, but knew that Eric would challenge comfortable assumptions or glib opinions immediately and frontally. This could sometimes be discomforting — a ‘close inspection’ of one’s current thoughts can reveal holes in the fabric! Talking with Eric was a way to learn more about oneself. Perhaps only Eric could be so direct and still not strain the bonds of friendship. He successfully melded rugged individualism with diligent service on behalf of his family and his community. Eric’s vivid personality, coupled with Hilary’s warmth of spirit, remained a constant over the decades. We are saddened by Eric’s passing, but we remain privileged by having been his friend.”
Eric was a truly a mensch — a good man — whose decency was not eroded even by the final stages of disease. We will always love our memories of Eric, as we continue to cherish Hilary, Nicola, and David.
David Bookhout ’70
Scott Turow ’70
Curt Civin ’70
Hilary Wodlinger W’70