Stan

Stan 1

What can I tell you about Stan apart from everything about him was exceptional? He was family. He was a loving friend and father to everyone he met. He was a life mentor for many. The extent that he reached people was boundless. Who didn't love Stan…who doesn't still love him? To be loved half as much as Stan! A brilliant artist and musician, Stan also had a way with words. The most tender heart that ever set foot in the chest of a man…that was his. For Stan Fleisher was a real man. He was one of the last of the real men. There are so many reasons I wish now that I could talk to him. I would have loved to have written his autobiography. Born and raised in Philadelphia to Harry and Goldie Fleisher, Stan was one of two boys. Stan lived in Newark and Phelps. Stan had six amazing children and eleven grandchildren. As a life mentor, Stan was the only light in lives in this town that were, quite frankly, lightless. He showed love where there wasn't much love at all: to those who had lost love ones, children whose fathers had walked or been walked out of their lives, older folks who had lost spouses, men battling addiction, and gave many the strength to overcome their scarred lives, both with his inherent intuitive wisdom and divine humour. Stan's life had many disappointments and blessings. I am confident that he had no disappointments that he didn't end up turning into assets. He had a simple life in some ways, and a very rich life in others. His outlook on adversity was both amazing and inspirational. In retrospect, I wish now that I wrote down everything the man said. He was a pillar of wisdom in life experience, a certain rich knowledge that was outside of the box…the wisdom beyond all his years of an old soul, with the gentle ways of a child when it came to peoples' hearts. Some of the memories that have crossed my life in the last couple of days where his life has impacted mine: Stan playing harmonica at Java Junction, it meant so much to him ..open mic nights singing "Over the Rainbow" with my then much younger daughter, sitting in front of his little gallery on Main St, with the kids in big wicker chairs into the night, my son there, playing his guitar, the way he had of talking to my son, French fries with him at 58 Main …him walking up the road with his wide brimmed hat on, his Mexican serape, his crazy get ups like his wearing his support hose with his cut offs and trademark v neck t shirt, his trips carrying his animal headed staff as trekked back from playing gigs at the Landing, his odd relationship with his puppets from Lift Bridge ….and his love for my children in his constant encouragement as contributing musical members of the arts community and to the future of the arts in this world----His fatherly love of them…as my children never knew much of that….his shoulder to cry on when the kids were young in the old days….his constant encouragement of my writing and as a peer in the artistic world ….then more recently, my cherished friendship with his daughter, Katie, getting together with my daughter and Stan and Kate and laughing about some of the silliest things. "You must keep writing!" would be his response to my lack of time as he shared from his heart the riches of giving up what the world constituted as wealth in exchange for the riches of giving people joy with his passion, his art. My kids are at a loss to express their feelings for a man with a heart the size of a mountain and a faith just as big. My daughter took out her memory box last night and dumped 15 and a half years out on the floor in search of a memory. Out of it came rough sketches of people at the coffeeshop, a photograph of Stan in a hula skirt he gave her from an event at the Senior center. She searched for a little painting of a dancer he had tenderly given her at a younger age. I am quite sure the black dog puppet will sleep on her bed tonight. I am fairly certain all of you have a memory or many of his life where Stan touched you. Whether he touched you at the coffeeshop or at the Senior center or just walking down the street, there was a reason you knew this man. He was a gentleman with a colorful way about him. He showed us how life was to be embraced. He showed it how it was to be done! Stan's generosity was boundless. Stanley Fleisher was undisputedly a man of God, albeit a humble one, no matter what higher power you might choose or do not choose to believe in. Stan Fleisher knew who his God was, and his faith was unshakeable. It seemed like the whole world burst into bloom the morning Stan went home. Lush greens and flowers were everywhere. I told Kate it was no coincidence. How could it be knowing him? It may take me awhile to love Main Street quite the same way again, or to want to hear all those old songs that he sang and played. Eventually I will love them again, as they will mean more to me because of Stan. I will hold on to all these things, and they will become holy to me. And Stan will hate that I put it that way, but I love him, and he'd understand. Mere words will never express how much I will miss him…..but I have confidence that his pain is gone, and he has left for a far better place…..Stan, may you rest in peace Stanley F. Fleisher………………….October 3, 1933- April 19, 20082