Tribute to Charles Hass

by Neeraja Aravamudan and Kristin Hale
February 3, 2001

We Miss You, Charles.

My name is Neeraja Aravamudan & I've known Charles since middle school. He has so many friends that we unfortunately can't hear from everyone at this time. Kristin & I tried to do our best to capture the spirit of what many people have expressed over the past few days.

Charles was more than a life, he was a life force. His zest for life was not something he kept to himself but something he often consciously willed those he loved to share. Rather than letting those- around him simply witness his exuberance, he insisted they become part of it.

I've only been grounded once in my life ... thanks to Charles. The summer after our senior year in high school, one night it was late but we hadn't finished talking. I knew I shouldn't stay out late, but I also knew- I couldn't bring him inside because no matter how often I asked, there was no way Charles could talk (let alone laugh) quietly. Who can forget his laugh? So rather than wake the entire household, we stayed in the driveway, not knowing my mom was up waiting for me. Our talk was well worth the punishment, at least in retrospect. Thanks, Charles.

I was lucky enough to go to college with Charles, too. So we continued our late- night chats at Purdue--without the groundings. Our freshman year, we figured out why we got along so well-we had the same personality. That is, we are both ENFJS, a personality type on the Myers-Briggs test. ENFJs enjoy working with people and are often leaders & teachers. And he was definitely a leader. Charles loved his work--and play-- with the Marching Band, and KKPsi, the honorary band fraternity. In fact, his loyalty to these groups extended beyond his days at Purdue. His enthusiasm was so contagious, he drew many people to the organizations and to each other, creating many friendships over the years.

Despite my best efforts to convert him from his band geek ways (I was always a choir nerd), he remained loyal to his trombone. But after a camping trip to Brown County, I realized maybe that wasn't a bad thing. We (Sean, Kristin, Charles & I) spent a large portion of the night singing songs from Les Miz. Or he tried to sing along since he often made up the lyrics he couldn't remember. Not to mention Charles' voice often boomed with a vibrato that ensured our campsite would be safe from night critters. He was always a better whistler.

The last time I saw Charles was in October. He came to visit me in Chicago and we had a great time talking, eating, and laughing together. I realize now, one of the reasons I enjoyed him so much is that with him, I could be the girl I was when we first became friends in high school. He wasn't shy about revealing his excitement about every little thing and I think that's what drew so many people to him.

Charles was the consummate host. He often invited very different circles of friends assuming we would all enjoy each other as much he enjoyed us. His parties became annual traditions for many of us, and often started friendships that wouldn't have happened without Charles'. His gatherings were an invitation for us to see in each other what he saw in us.

He often talked about people as though they were projects. He was supremely confident in his ability to bring out some hidden part of someone that only he could see. This need to shape people used to be irritating in high school but as we grew older, I realized it was a skill he valued and tried to cultivate with all the friendships he started and maintained.. Charles saw something special in each of us in this room. That's why we were lucky enough to be loved by him. I encourage you to nurture that part of yourself as a way to remember Charles and to become what he always knew we could be.

As Charles once wrote: "The visions of utmost beauty are only able to be created on the canvas of the soul, inspired by words from the heart." Charles loved each of us wholeheartedly, it's up to us now to continue to find the beauty in our souls and in those we meet.