Dreams

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Steve loved to collect beautiful artifacts from a myriad of different realms. Antiquarian Silver, Natural Mineral Forms, Contemporary Art, American Scrimshaw and Asian Netsuke. Intrinsic beauty was the connection between them. As the collections outgrew our home, the idea to create a public viewing place was born. And in 1981, we purchased the dilapidated University Club in Evanston which gave us the opportunity to rebuild it. One room reflected Art Nouveau. Another Art Deco. A third Asian. Byer Museum of the Arts was born and open to the public in 1982.

Why am I telling you this? Because recently my daughter Sarah and son-in-law Barry had some video films they uncovered in storage digitized so they could be viewed. And there among a film of Zoe's baby naming and Ben and Barry's trip to Jamaica was a film of the dedication for Byer Museum that no one knew existed. Seeing it was a trip back in time for me.

The film is somewhat blurry and rambling but it was a treat to see so many friends, family and Evanston's finest from the mayor and alderman to the superintendent of schools. Sarah and Rebeccah looked so cute in plaid jackets and skirts, the boys in suits. Champagne, a lavish buffet, floral displays - it was definitely a trip back in time. But what I enjoyed most was seeing Steve, his hair dark black and curly, rambling on about our hope and dreams for the future, our commitment to the Evanston community. We believed we would live in our beautiful home on the lake for the duration. All of our children would pursue their dreams. And that Byer Museum would outlive us for generations. Watching that film reminded me of our youthful innocence.

The museum had a brief life, brought down by a massive internal electrical fire in 1985. Steve's hair turned white almost overnight. The future we believed we owned deluded us in so many ways. Our children would probably say we became impetuous, changing direction in a heartbeat. But isn't that what life's journey is about? The tricks and turns, surprises and disappointments happen to all of us in some measure or other. I've learned, perhaps the hard way, to enjoy what's best about today and to let tomorrow take care of itself.

Steve and Barb, 1981, Dedication 


    

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