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Stephen SYDOR Obituary
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Memories and Condolences
for Stephen SYDOR
Robert E. Harrist, Jr
October 17, 2024
One in a million, one in a million.
Bob Harrist
October 17, 2024
Diane A Sydor
October 19, 2020
Miss you Dad
Sandy Hurt
October 18, 2020
How much I enjoyed his sense of humor and see that same dry wit in his daughter, Nancy
Love to all!
Sandy
June 16, 2017
I only attended Fairview High School for one year, as a Freshman. Mr. Sydor was my Latin teacher and he quickly became my favorite teacher that year. An upperclassman told me all about Mr. Sydor in the summer of 1966 before I met him -- what a unique character he was and I was not disappointed. Rest in peace Mr. Sydor and thanks for being such a great Teacher!
Bob Jonardi, Colorado Springs
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December 6, 2016
I heard of Steve many times before I met him.
Jim Zafris, my friend, was always telling stories about his father-in-law, Steve. I finally met Steve when Jim and I, along with two friends, planned a four-day bike trip alongside the Connecticut River, New England's longest river.
We planned to go from the source, Fourth Connecticut Lake, a beaver pond 300 yards from the Canadian border, to wherever we reachedmaybe the whole 407 miles to Long Island Sound. It was August of 1985. Steve joined us at the last minute, not as a bike hiker, but as our support driver.
Steve drove my Ford F150 while Jim, and I, joined by Woody (Jim's friend), and
Rich, a local firefighter I knew, rode our bikes. It was a fine arrangement. Steve with the pickup truck loaded with our camping gear served as our advance scoutreconnoitering ahead of us bike riders--picking out good spots for food, rest stops, and for our nightly camping.
The truck helped immenselywe tossed the camping gear in the bed of the truck and rode unencumbered during the day.
And Steve was a good driver. The F150 was a standardfour-on-the-floorbut Steve had no problem with the clutch. Jim and I joked that a person could perform brain surgery in the truck, were they so qualified, with Steve doing the drivinghe was that smooth.
Steve saw his first moose on the first day of the trip. We were in the truck, late morning, heading north in upstate Vermont to the border with Canada. Still several miles from the border we spied the moose--several hundred feet in from the road. Steve saw it first-- a large bull moose standing placidly in a meadow watching the truck and the road. We stopped and Steve got out studying the moosea first time sighting for him. That's one tall animal there, he commented.
The other thing I remember about Steve and our journey was the rhubarb pie sighting.
Days later in our journey we had left the river and were making a stop in Worthington, Massachusetts, to visit Ronnie (my girlfriend, now wife) and her parents, who lived in an old house high on a hilltop.
We entered the house, said hello to Dot and JoeRonnie's parents, and then went outside to set up our tents.
A deep orange sunset was washing over the Berkshires Hills to the west, Steve stopped and looked back.
Did you see that? he said pointing at the house. I wasn't sure what he meant or what he had just seen, though the sunset was noteworthy.
What, Steve? Jim and I both asked.
In there he said now pointing directly at the house. Rhubarb pie.
He was right. Dot Hayes had just cooked one of her succulent rhubarb pies from scratch. Steve shook his head. I've got my hopes up for tomorrow, he said.
And he wasn't disappointed. We ate large slabs of homemade rhubarb pie for breakfast the next morning, and then called the trip a success and headed home.
Tom Conuel
Sandy Hurt
November 25, 2016
I meet Steve only once while visiting his daughter Nancy and wife Marjorie.
It was a brief visit, but we talked on many subjects including Carl Jung. Was there any subject he couldn't talk about? I doubt it.
A few days after Nancy sent me his obit, I looked out at my bird feeder and not one but two very loud and noisy Blue Jays were dominating the feeding area. Then they were gone. Humm. Two would mean in symbolic language that something new is coming to consciousness.
I'm wondering what it will be Thanks, Steve
On this Thanksgiving 2016, I want to thank Marjorie and Steve for birthing my dear friend, Nancy. She gave me hope when I needed it most. Your legacy lives on.
Jim Zafris
November 7, 2016
There are so many wonderful and crazy things that I cherish about Steve. Back in the 80's he often suggested a trip to the Dunkin Donuts on North Main (long gone). Before getting in the car, he'd always set a topic: Cuomo Catholics, the Lefebvrite Schism, whatever. He loved to talk about all kinds of things high and low. We'd settle into a booth and he'd complain that the coffee seemed watery. One night we'd been hashing a topic over for an hour or so when I happened to look out the window. Marge and Nancy had parked outside and were watching us--laughing their heads off. What an intimate moment of pleasure, like so many Steve offered to those who knew and loved him.
November 1, 2016
Mr. Sydor was my English teacher at Fairview HS. He was a colorful, funny, and unique teacher that used that personality mix to also be one of my most effective teachers. "And Quiet Flows the Don" became a good prop for his talents. I also learned a lot about arm wrestling and "IRONY!" that year. I will always remember him.
Ron Messer
Fairview HS '67
October 28, 2016
My. Sydor was my Latin teacher for 3 yearsa and gave me the only detention I ever had. It was a priviledge to know him.
Marcia Pabst Calhoun
FHS 1968
Robert Harrist
October 23, 2016
What a vivid, brilliant person. Every encounter was memorable, from his visit to my graduate school dormitory in New York, which yielded some deathless verses on student hygiene, to a night in Columbus when Steve suddenly launched into a passionate Turkish ballad. I recall also on a visit to Dayton finding Steve busy propping up the house with heavy wooden beams (or perhaps he was removing them?). I'm very, very glad I knew him.
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