Hi Neighbor,
We had a death in our family this week. Strong and vibrant until not long ago, my daughter-in-law’s dad died at 85.
Cara was much younger. Just 41. She collapsed and died on Election Day.
Two lives gone. One most would consider young. The other, most would consider old.
Really, though . . . is there a “right time” to lose someone? A “right age?” A “right time” to die?
It rankles sometimes when well-meaning souls say someone lived a full life. A long life. A good life. Somehow, it’s meant to make the death more acceptable. All in the effort to make the grieving feel better.
Perhaps all those things are true. But still, the time is never right.
The time surely was not right for Cara Liander Gordon. The thought that Cara died is incomprehensible. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of our neighbors are stunned.
Not just because of her age. More because of the remarkable impact she had on people.
People who did not know Cara, but who heard the cries of disbelief and grief, say they are disappointed that they did not have the good fortune know her. She makes an impact, even in death.
I knew Cara as a teenager.
Cara’s TeenAge Press Corps photo.SI Advance
The Advance once published a weekly section called TeenAge. A “Press Corps” of high school students from around Staten Island reported on teen issues for the section, did movie reviews and wrote opinion pieces.
It published every Sunday.
Cara applied to join the team. We quickly discovered she was a superstar.
She graduated from Notre Dame Academy High School, graduated from the TeenAge Press Corps, and moved on to Boston University.
But Staten Island remained close to her heart, and so did the Advance.
She applied for a college summer intern reporting position and it took me all of a second to hire her out of dozens of solid applications.
She might have been labeled an intern on our summer payroll, but she had all the qualities of a seasoned reporter.
Cara was game for anything. It’s no wonder she invented the Shakey Award and raised money for her Staten Island Shakespearean Theatre by roasting fellow Islanders mercilessly at an annual fundraiser.
One of the first assignments tossed her way by City Editor Tom Checchi? She was part of a team of Advance summer interns to investigate the cleanliness – of lack of it – in public bathrooms across Staten Island.
It resulted in a toilet expose entailed, “Gotta go? Better wait.”
“In anticipation of the unofficial start of the summer season, a team of Advance reporters randomly surveyed all of the borough’s 24 city, state and federally operated “comfort stations ” – a wholly inadequate name for some of the public restrooms we’ve surveyed,” began the story.
“They toured toilets from the squeaky-clean visitors center at Fort Wadsworth to the smelly environs of the Herbert H. Lehman Staten Island ferryboat.”
Cara had the pleasure of investigating and photographing “the smelly environs of the Herbert H. Lehman . . . ”
All in the name of community journalism.
And in the name of community journalism, she penned tributes to her mom and dad in the TeenAge section.
Cara and her mom, Sharon.Staff-Shot
It was in her dad’s tribute that she opened up her own life to readers.
“It wasn’t until August 28, 2001 that I realized how this man was my hero. It was the worst of the worst for any 17-year-old, and a turning point in my life, when I went to the doctors, and they told me that I had juvenile diabetes.
Cara and her dad.Third-Party-Submitted
“I was devastated and didn’t know how to deal with it. Feeling like it was the end of my life, I got a phone call from him.
“ ‘It’s just one more thing you have to live with,” he told me, ‘It’s just like how I can’t walk right for the rest of my life. I keep on going.’
“Such a simple concept, yet to me, it means the world.”
Cara didn’t stop there. It was 2003. She was only 19. Cara realized she had a powerful community platform — the Staten Island Advance — to spread her word about living with Type I diabetes. She volunteered to write about cooking for someone with diabetes for the Advance food section.
“Choosing the right recipes can be a great way to cook for someone who has diabetes. The secret is to keep away from carbohydrates, but still maintain a mouth-watering dish that everyone can enjoy,” was how she opened her story.
Cara left journalism not long after and devoted herself to the arts, her real passion. She did theater through elementary school, into high school, and earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in acting from Boston University. She studied at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts. She was a location scout, and appeared in off-Broadway plays. She was a playwright and a director.
But her love of Staten Island and its people never diminished.
She worked with St. Teresa’s Parish Players, inspiring kids every day. As a location scout, she promoted Pouch Camp, Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Gardens and other prime areas in her hometown.
She chaired the board of the Staten Island Shakespearean Theatre, finding the players a home at Empire Outlets.
At the Roast of Jennifer Sammartino Mallen, sitting are fellow roasters who include, Jenny Kelly, left and Cara Liander. (Courtesy/SIST)Staten Island Advance
And she coordinated those famed “roasts” at the Staaten every year to raise funds for the theatre. She invited my buddy Fred Cerullo and me not long ago to roast St. George Theatre co-founders Luanne Sorrentino and Doreen Cugno.
“Thank God we’re the roasters and not the roasted,” I whispered to Fred as we waited our turn on the dais. Or so I thought.
After we roasted Doreen and Luanne, Cara took the microphone and roasted me — her former boss!
“Only the Good Die Young,” croons Billy Joel.
Not so, Piano Man.
Cara was young. Too young to die. My daughter-in-law’s dad, my friend, was older. Too good to die.
The time is never right.
Brian
A copy of the Staten Island Advance of Nov. 3, 1993 shows that a non-binding referendum to secede from New York City was approved by the voters of Staten Island by a margin of 2-1 (65%).
Oh by the way: State Assemblymember Sam Pirozzolo stood at New Dorp Lane and Richmond Road the other day and read his own “Staten Island Independence Declaration.” Sam wants to explore Staten Island secession. Again. It was the early ‘90s when this was a real issue in these parts. Gov. Mario Cuomo signed a bill in 1989 that cleared the way for Staten Islanders to vote to secede, or not, and vote we did. The vote was 2-1 in favor of secession. The movement was killed in the state Legislature when powerful Assembly Speaker Shelly Silver refused to allow the vote go to the floor. Others have tried to resurrect the movement since but got no traction. Given the incoming mayor, and Staten Island’s overwhelming vote supporting his challenger, Sam could be on to something. In the ‘90s, Staten Islanders were frustrated. We had little-to-no say in how we were governed after the Board of Estimate was abolished. At least then, the borough president was among eight members. Even that wasn’t ideal because some members held more than one vote. Still, it was better than three members in a 51-member progressive Council. We’re still frustrated, decades later. Let’s face it. Things ain’t gonna change. It well could be time to take Sam’s effort seriously.
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