Nick Liberante: An Appreciation

I had been properly warned.

"He's the hardest teacher you'll ever have."

"You'll never get an 'A'."

"Good luck."

Nick Liberante's educational reputation proceeded him. And on August 29, 1983, I encountered a man for the first time who would change my life in ways I could not imagine then, and still cannot fully capture on this, the night of his passing from cancer.

The best way to describe being taught by Nick Liberante was that you were in the presence of the most "complex simplicity" you'll ever experience. A man who was so simple in appearance, a man who never, ever threw his amazing intelligence and depth of knowledge in your face, a man who prepared thoroughly, taught with an uncanny balance of understanding and humor while challenging everything you ever thought, or thought you knew.

His love for the work of Henry David Thoreau was legendary. So was "the red pen".

As the assigned papers were returned to me in English my junior year, the red ink flowed. It did so for good reason. As I texted someone tonight, I felt like I couldn't write complete sentences until I sat under Nick Liberante.

His earned reputation for being a "difficult" (in the positive sense) teacher was spot on. But as the year continued, I really began to understand why he did what he did, and I began to soak it all in. No, I never earned an "A" in the two years I sat in his room, listening to a professor at the high school level, not on official Hanover County Public Schools report cards, that is.

Instead, I happily traded a "B" in English 11, and the only "C" I ever had in school, in 12th grade Advanced Novel, for a lifelong lesson in critical thinking, looking at the full picture, understanding the perspective of others, and, most of all, respect.

*******

If you called him then, or call him even today, "Mr. Liberante", chances are you were never his student.

As year one yielded to year two, and I, someone who generally doesn't enjoy reading novels or books (yes, you read that right), opted for, yes, an ELECTIVE class in Advanced Novel, a year filled with reading books and writing reports, over and over, doing so for just one reason.

I had to sit in Nick's classroom again. I needed more.

By then, he was "Nick". This was in no way disrespectful to my elder. He embraced the fact that many students like me, who so deeply appreciated him, his work, his candor, his honesty and his intelligence, spoke to him that way because he was kind enough to treat us, not as equals, but as humans on the verge of adulthood, readying to tackle the challenges of the world.

There's no way I can count how many Mello Yello canned drinks and creme twirls I threw down in first period, listening to him over a seventeen-year old's abhorrent choice of breakfast foods.

His room, and specifically around his desk, became an inner sanctum for conversation prior to class, discussing the events of the day, whether it was school events or the NCAA Tournament. He was ready for anything. He also deeply appreciated the fact that this next generation thought it so cool to hang out with him.

We all knew we were sitting at the feet of Mount Liberante, and we soaked in every moment.

I had no idea that I would get a second chance at a brush with greatness, but I did.

*******

Fast forward to late 2011. I was struggling with a myriad of health issues (many of which continue to this day) and reached an unwanted crossroads in my life. I was able to fulfill my high school football commitment on radio that fall, and, through the radio station, was introduced to a wonderful gentleman named Greg Glassner, at the time the editor of the Hanover Herald-Progress.

He learned of me through his weekly Friday visits to WHAN (now The Mater) to do an on-air segment of what was in the latest edition of the newspaper. He reached out asking if I would write articles on the games I broadcast. I was happy to do so.

And, when I was forced to leave a full-time position I adored at the end of that year because I was simply too sick to continue, I, on a whim, told Greg I'd be more available should he need more writing. I needed work that my body could handle.

Thus began a six plus year odyssey with the newspaper, and my now forever association with sports in Hanover County. But there was a major bonus.

His main photographer was Nick Liberante.

We had seen each other a few teams over the years at Patrick Henry games, he shooting on the sidelines as I would bloviate in the press box. But now, we became a team. Nick shoots, I write.

By 2012, Nick was the ultimate pro. He could get the money shot before the end of the first quarter, and happily be at home before halftime. I, of course, needed to hang around for the final score. :)

We began planning our weeks. Who do we cover? How do we provide fair coverage of all four schools (when did Atlee and Hanover show up??), plus Randolph-Macon College? Through it all, he was, again, the guiding and calming force, and the master of finding the moment which fit the narrative.

All those years later, we were tag team partners. He was Batman, I was Robin. I always knew, and loved, the pecking order. By now, he was in his final years at Patrick Henry. We had heart attacks in common, and he always had sage advice on keeping the body, as well as the mind, healthy.

Once in a while, I would get a congratulatory email or text from him on a story. No one could send me a higher compliment, no smile I could crack would ever be wider.

The first two get well cards I received after my 2013 heart attack were from the Atlee Softball team, and Nick Liberante. I still have them.

Our run ended when the Herald-Progress inexplicably ended their photographer position in 2016. I mean, who thinks a newspaper is good without pictures?  I shook my head and warned them as they now asked me for pictures (for free, of course) that Nick was the maestro. They traded a master photographer for a picture taker.

When the Herald-Progress ended in March, 2018, a thankful Rob moved over to where Nick landed at Richmond Suburban Newspapers. A reunion was on the horizon. But then life gets in the way. His battle for his life had begun.

In the end, we did get to do several games together for the Local, and if my memory serves me correctly tonight, the last time we were together was over the winter in the gym at, you guessed it, Patrick Henry.

**********

I grieve tonight for his family, especially his grandchildren. He loved them in a way I cannot describe. Our conversations about his trips to watch them and their young adventures were priceless, a final lesson bestowed to me as I began my grandparent journey just over a year ago.

Tonight, I am so thankful for so many things about Nicholas Liberante.

I am thankful for having "Nick" as not just a "teacher", but as a life guide.
I am thankful for his incredible generosity to me in word and in deed, for 35 years.
I am thankful for that "complex simplicity" I wrote about earlier, and the incredible depth of life he lived.
I am thankful for the example of how to never quit thinking, considering, wondering. Keep learning.
I am thankful that he embodied "pay it forward" many years before it even became a catch phrase.

And I am most thankful to have been allowed in to his exclusive fraternity of "Si, Fi, Simplify!"

***********

I leave you with four pictures. The first is Nick, in his inner sanctum of learning, caught in a moment that perfectly explains how much fun we had in his classroom no matter how hard the work was, which only added to the grandeur of his legend. The next two explain how he looked through the lens, always looking for complexities in simple events like celebrating a win, or waiting for an umpire to make a call.

The final shot he took one Friday night several years ago of my daughter Rachel, who, next month, will become the first Witham in portion of the family tree to graduate high school, then graduate college four years later. She'll have a degree in theatre education. She knew Nick long enough to understand why we shed tears while we smile tonight. And if Rachel touches a tenth of the number of students that Nick, a Buffalo, New York native who transformed literally thousands of lives at an unassuming rural high school just outside Ashland, Virginia, did, she will have done quite well.

Rest well, my friend, until we meet again.  :)