George Enell retired shortly after I earned my master’s degree in 1992. He passed away in 2003. George didn’t merely convince me to “be myself” even in my most formal writing assignments, convention papers, and thesis. George had a way of celebrating the richness of the life around him.

He had an uncommon gift of appreciating the uniqueness of who you are simply be interacting with you. In my experience, most are uncomfortable with the differences they have with others. The more similar you are, the more “normal” you are, the more that you fall in line with expectations, the less threatening you are.

George Enell was completely different. George suffered from some sort of boredom by the ordinary. He genuinely appreciated the novel, the unique, the unexpected. Surprise gave him life.

Everyone should have a George Enell in his or her life at some point. In his honor, here are some of my favorite memories of George Enell.

Mulholland Drive
A few of my classmates and I joined George for his signature tour of Los Angeles. As he lived across from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, that was our first stop. Inside I happened to turn a corner and was greeted by David Hockney’s Mulholland Drive.

Mulholland Drive is over six feet tall and twenty feet wide. It is colorful and vibrant. It took my breath away. I walked from one end of the 20 feet to the other, taking in its nuances and shades. When George came around the corner, he joined me.

I looked at the enormity of it and guessed, “Mulholland?” “That’s right!” he exclaimed in that pride that only a teacher can express for a student.

Roughly a year later, George’s dad had passed away and I paid him a visit to check in on him. We spoke for a while when I noticed the print on the wall behind him: Mulholland Drive, except much smaller. George noticed my interest, took it off the wall, and handed it to me.

I told him I couldn’t accept, not at a time like this. He insisted, said he knew I would want it, and knew that it would be in good hands. What I didn’t know at the time was that George would soon announce his retirement from the university. Mulholland Drive remains in my living room to this day.

Here’s a picture of it

Aardvark’s
During the same Los Angeles tour we walked along Melrose Avenue, which has a unique and eclectic group of stores and restaurants. It wasn’t uncommon to find famous actors and celebrities walking along Melrose. It is also one of the most interesting cross-sections of people you will ever find. Quintessential George!

One of the stores on Melrose Avenue was Aardvark’s, which was a clothing store that seemingly clothed the Melrose culture. Nothing conservative here: feather boas, colorful dress and pants, and spiked heeled shoes-one set with fishbowls in the heels! Very colorful. Completely outlandish.

After about 15 minutes of us checking out the clothes, George announced, “We aren’t leaving here until we find something for Jeff!” So began the search. Now I must tell you, at that age you couldn’t pay me enough money to wear a feather boa, or anything with a heel, or most anything else in the store for that matter.

My friends and George tried on everything from coats with tails, to pimp hats, to leather chaps. They had a blast! I did too; I just wasn’t letting them in on it.

Finally, hidden under a huge stack of clothes, I found a simple black beret. George roared with laughter, “leave it to Jeff to find the most conservative article in the store.”

Oh, that old thing!
There were lots of little moments that I treasured with George. One example is when he relayed to us the time he and his wife were looking for daycare for their son. His son is about the same age as I am, so this was some years before.

He and his wife had visited a number of centers that day. His wife was in charge of the itinerary. By the sixth or seventh stop, George couldn’t track where they were or in what school they had visited anymore. They all began to look the same.

They came to one school where the director proudly displayed all of the new teaching and childcare practices the school had adopted. Apparently, the school was part of a new innovative system of childcare. George, however, found something very
familiar with the practices the director was so proud of.

“I’m sorry, what system are you teaching here?” George asked. The director proudly exclaimed the school was Montessori school. George responded, “Oh, that old thing!”

What George knew that the school director did not was that the Montessori method dates back to the early 1900’s (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montessori_method).
Classic George!

George was a friend and a mentor. He enriched my life.

George taught me to resist conforming influences.