In Memoriam: Julia Reichert

Julia, Remembered

(Julia Reichert ’90 – 1946 - 2022)

In 1991 I began my job as Julia Reichert’s personal assistant when she, Steve, and Lela moved to Yellow Springs. Working with Julia was interesting and consuming, fun and very human. We worked hard, but took moments to tend to her enormous basil plants, to enjoy her annual pepper dish with the perfect white wine, and to watch the neighborhood plays that Lela wrote and directed. I learned a lot from Julia as her employee but the absolute best part of our relationship was the lovely friendship that grew out of it.

Many knew Julia as the acclaimed documentary filmmaker who had a constant eye toward lives and work the world should know about, in the spirit of a true Antiochian. The side of Julia I knew best was the one like a big sister, sharing wisdom and recipes, affirming my mothering and other strengths, and forming beautiful relationships with my kids as they grew and, later, with my son-in-law and grandchildren.

Back in the day, every Christmas, long before Lela had children of her own, they came to our home and, each year, Julia and Steve would organize us into making a short film that we’d premier after our Christmas feast. There was a lot of silliness in making those films; they are some of our best Christmas memories.

Many years ago, “Orchard House” on the Lake Michigan shore, an old wonky happy rental place, became the perfect setting for friends and family to come and go over the course of a week in the late summer. The tradition grew into yearly or bi-yearly gatherings, with lazy beach days playing ballinaire, a game designed to do just that - keep the beach ball in the air. Later, with staggering scores, we became the Lake Michigan allstar ballinaire team with a lot of fanfare (think Rocky soundtrack) and team shirts provided by Julia and Steve.

At the lake, there were teams organized by Julia (“of course”, you say); the cocktail team made the drink of the day, to be enjoyed in the early evening on the “perch”, a deck on the edge of the property about 50 feet above the beach. There we made new friends, played games, told stories, and shared a lot of laughter. The dinner team would prepare the evening meal, having brought recipes and key ingredients from home, adding fresh local components.

After watching the sun set from the beach, dinner was served on the screened porch of Orchard House, at one long table pieced together, and topped with vintage tablecloths and mismatched china. We sat for hours, everyone aglow from the sun and the candlelight, sharing more stories of our lives from our disparate places before ending the night on the beach with a fire and fireworks. Julia LOVED fireworks; they were as essential as all other rituals..

When I began working in the president’s office at Antioch, I experienced another strong connection with Julia. I have come to love the place as she did, moreso because of her commitment to Antioch and its influence on her life work.

My last moments with Julia were spent reading from one of our shared favorite books, Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, as Julia was deep inside “doing the work of dying” as one Hospice person said. I like to think she heard me, and that it gave her moments back on the Lake Michigan shore, a place she loved and one where she gave so many the gift of belonging.