The Soul of the English Department

BY WHIT MORGAN • ENGLISH TEACHER

English teacher Perry Epes ’65 takes the “last jump” into retirement after almost three decades at EHS.

WHEN FACED WITH THE DAUNTING TASK OF WRITING A TRIBUTE TO MY FRIEND AND LONG-TIME COLLEAGUE PERRY EPES ’ 65, I SOLICITED A FEW COMMENTS FROM OTHER TEACHERS, AND SEVERAL RECURRENT MOTIFS EMERGED: PERRY’S TRADEMARK TWEED JACKET, INEVITABLY FLECKED WITH DOG HAIR; HIS OTHERWORLDLY KNOWLEDGE OF ALL THINGS

literary or historical; his craftsmanship and sensitivity as a poet; his gentleness, at least until his laptop or the copy machine begins acting up; his deep concern for equality and inclusion; his humility; his beautiful, exemplary relationship with Gail. It’s hard to know where to start. In a word, Perry has been the soul of our department for decades, and in his own quiet way, he has left an indelible mark on The High School.

In the classroom, Perry is a master. He has an amazing knack for extracting blood from turnips, or rather quality prose and poetry from professed non-writers. This particular skill, I think, derives from Perry’s own painstaking work as a poet and novelist. Many of us give passable advice to our young charges regarding the craft of writing, but very few can claim Perry’s “beenthere-done-that” sense of authority. Still, despite his years as an active wordsmith, Perry never lords his superior experience over his students; rather, he makes clear to all around him that good writing, whether creative, analytical, or expository, is a noble, crucial undertaking. He’s just there to help. And help he has. Given his work with The Chronicle, Daemon, and The English Bays, it’s staggering to think how much student writing Perry has guided all the way to publication. He has given so many young people the skills and confidence to trust their own voices, and those voices have left The Holy Hill to be heard and lauded in the world beyond. Among his peers, Perry is just as supportive. One colleague recounts a story in which Perry returned a borrowed book. As he handed the novel back, Perry asked, “Do you ever read another’s annotations in a text and find yourself blown away by how that person saw things so important, yet they are things you have never seen?” This is just the sort of powerful validation Perry has provided for all of us for so many years, the kind of sustaining pat on the back that, frankly, helps us all get out of bed and face the new day. In the colleague’s words, “It was one of the greatest compliments I will ever receive as a teacher.” I wonder how many moments like this Perry has shared during his EHS tenure – too many to count, no doubt. Additionally, of course, he has always been our go-to man for virtually any literary or historical question. “Just ask Perry” has been such a common refrain over his time here that I fear we will find ourselves wandering the halls in search of him even after Perry has left us. What an amazing mind!

Perhaps the greatest proof of that amazing mind, though, is Perry’s brilliant choice of a mate. Gail Epes has been a transformative force in her own right during her tenure here, first as a chaplain and then, after her retirement, as a thoughtful, gentle presence on our campus. As a chaplain, her homilies were resonant and affecting, intruding on your thoughts long after you’d walked out of chapel. Gail has a way of making her faith seem personal and real, as she lets everyone in on her struggles and doubts. I don’t recall a single homily she gave that felt perfunctory. Perry and Gail form a quietly powerful pair, and I think the beauty of their loving, considerate relationship may well be their most lasting legacy here. As another colleague put it, “I love to look out a window and see Perry and Gail jogging together across the fields with Jerry galloping joyfully along. To me this act encapsulates their essence as a couple: healthy, for they are, after all, running; modest, for they never brag of their times or miles; intelligent, for their conversations are never dull; patient and committed, for they repeat the practice time and again; romantic, for they run in the early morning when a rosy glow sets the dew ashimmer; devoted, for they do it together.” These are the images that will stay with us long after Perry and Gail have packed up their boxes and boxes and boxes of books and headed off into the Virginia hinterlands.

And here I go again, turning to Perry for help in a moment of difficulty. How can we let them go? How can we know we’ll be okay without them or that they’ll be okay without us? Well, I guess I’ll just have to lean on Perry’s own lines, with a couple of minor edits, from the closing of his poem “Americans Hit the Beaches”: They’re up, radiant in height. What’s left but prayer?

the last resort of dads. They jump, arms locked and all for one, with nothing fancy –[Perry] on the left, and [Gail] on the right. My burden melts to a thick joy you could cut with a knife for sharing round. Even before the double splash

I believe in their last jump; one more just for me so I can learn to bear these pangs for the length of each plunge in the wine-dark sea.

Perry and Gail have believed in us for so long. We owe it to them to believe in their last jump, so that we, too, “can learn to bear these pangs.” Let’s just hope they swim back our way on occasion.

Mr. Epes taught me that life is a continual process of learning and reflection, about oneself and the world. I didn’t truly understand this notion until recently, when over Christmas break, Mr. Epes gave me several books from his personal library, and in return, only asked that I discuss them with him. As Emerson once said, “All life is an experiment; the more experiments you make, the better. – Morgan Hensley ’10

In college, I came across the quote, “Great genius is often mistaken for true kindness.” It was a familiar idea to me because I had had the privilege of being taught by Perry Epes. Perry infuses his lessons with tireless and thorough preparation, an unmatched passion for the written word, and a compassion for each soul in the room. It is his compassion that makes him exceptional at an institution rich with talented and highly educated teachers. While I was at Episcopal, Perry was my champion; he treated my fledgling interest in poetry with dignity and encouraged me to not only apply myself to writing, but to enter work into contests that led to participation in some amazing opportunities at the Folger Library and the Joaquin Miller Cabin reading series. Perry is the reason I applied and was accepted into the undergraduate writing program at the University of Virginia and the M.F.A. program at Indiana University. Perry has a strong faith in his students, and he brings joy and energy to discussions and material that could otherwise be stale. Ultimately though, Perry’s legacy to me has been that as I teach, I aim to approach my students and their work with the same gentle manner as he did with me. Brevity is not one of my strengths, but it is so hard to explain in a few sentences how influential both Perry and Gail have been in my life. Or perhaps, it is not so difficult after all: in four words, Perry is my hero. – Pilar Andrus ’00

I admired Mr. Epes immensely. I saw him as someone genuinely serious, and not in a way that suggests a dry intellect – quite the contrary. He regarded the world with an earnest interest that enlivened things, made things seem newly worthy of reflection. This attitude awakened me to a way of reading and to a way of living in the world as a poet. He was a tireless, generous mentor – a true guide to young writers. He read student work attentively and recognized the poetry in it, as only a poet can. It’s probably no coincidence that I find myself in the same role with young writers today. He treated my ideas and words with genuine interest and unstinting insight, and I hope to do the same for my students. So much happened in the classroom. He taught brilliant, unforgettable lessons. I still vividly remember the first day of senior English class. He wrote the Middle English lyric poem “O Western Wind” on the board and began simply by reading it. Very few people have such an intimate, electric connection to poems that they can elucidate them merely by reading them aloud – but Perry Epes is one of those people. I have held onto that poem, in his reading, for 15 years, as well as countless other early epiphanies about language and literature. It is incredible to me, looking back, that I could learn so much from a single person in so short a time. – Michelle Gil-Montero ’98