Stars That Dazzle

Today in my World History class we read a thrilling eyewitness account of an alarming vision that greeted Parisians on a summer’s eve back in August, 1348. As worshippers left evening vespers, Jean de Venette, a young French friar, wrote of the dazzling celestial visitor splashing across the sky: “to our amazement this big star broke into many different rays, and exploded, totally annihilated….Is this a prelude of disaster?” Our French friar (of course, there is a not-so-subtle pun here) spoke of his awe at this sign, and wondered if from now on, every night more stars might not explode and disappear. He fearfully asked if God was out to punish them in some way. The bubonic plague had already become an unwelcome visitor in France, and de Venette spoke of the despair darkening Paris: “He who was well one day was dead the next and being carried to his grave.”

As my classes imagined what it must have felt like to be overpowered by those intense stars and then stupefied by the black sky on that long ago August night, I heaved a sigh and reflected on some news I had received last night.

Mary Ray Massey, that friend on whom I have lavished praise from time to time in the blog, had called from North Carolina to deliver some alarming news: my wonderful friend Patti Bazzell Freeman had died.

I wrote about Patti in a blog entry just a few weeks ago, recalling the delight at receiving her annual Christmas package and expression of friendship. I wrote: “The mail came, and like December clockwork, there was a package from my treasured friend Patti Bazzell Freeman, with another star for my Christmas tree—same old, same old, and it couldn’t have been better.”

In the early 1990s Patti and I worked together at Charlotte Latin School. This was a work friendship deeper and more profound than most one will ever encounter in a work place.
Patti offered loyalty, honesty, warmth, and a radiant smile. I called her Patti Dazzle! In 1995-96, one of the most challenging years in my career, I started almost every day with a Patti Dazzle morning check-in, hug, and smile. Patti offered the kind of support that elevated your spirits and served as a fount of blessings.

One Christmas she gave me several Christmas tree ornaments—all stars—and said, “You John D (she always called me John D—her husband was named John also) turn our students into stars.” And every year since 1993 I would receive a couple of new star Christmas tree ornaments.

So today it is hard to believe that this dear friend is not among us on earth. Mary did not know much about her death, and the obituary I found on-line from the Charlotte paper did not yield much information, but its words certainly summed up this magnanimous, serene friend:

Patti Bazzell Freeman, of Charlotte, died peacefully on January 31, 2008 surrounded by a circle of love—the love she gave and the love she received. While hers was a textured life (aren't all the good ones like that?), she never failed to recognize the bountiful blessings she had received over the course of her 55 years. She would often say, 'If I should be taken today, I've had more than I deserved, and for that, I am eternally grateful.' And, she was. There will be no formal service or memorials, but if you should want to contribute to a cause close to Patti's heart; try a random and anonymous act of kindness. Just give a smile. Get a smile.

Patti Dazzle and I exchanged emails at New Years’ hoping that I would get a chance to come to Charlotte this year and visit again.

Patti Dazzle, one of my wondrous habibis.

I looked up ”dazzle” in the dictionary this evening and discovered several definitions that filled me with joy:

daz·zle

to dim the vision of by intense light


to impress deeply; astonish with delight


to shine or reflect brilliantly



to excite admiration by brilliance

Did the writers of this dictionary have the occasion to know my friend Patti Dazzle??? From the looks of those definitions, surely they must have made her acquaintance!

A student named Eddie Park, not a particularly loquacious young man usually, offered a dazzling insight back in the spring of 1997 in my Modern European history class that I have never forgotten. Our class was analyzing Vincent van Gogh’s painting, Starry Night. We knew Vincent had painted this fantastic scene in his sanitarium room, and we tried to make sense of its fuzzy brilliance. From out of nowhere Eddie said, “Maybe the scene is what Vincent saw as he looked out into the night through his tears.”

The stars—the tears—Patti Dazzle…