Not just a great man, but a good man too.

Yesterday I said goodbye to one of the greatest men I've ever met. His name was Mr. Louis Nabors.

While in undergrad, I pursued a science degree, though my passions generally lie with the arts. Throughout my time in college, I participated in operas, musical theatre, straight-laced theatre, and several choirs. This was difficult, because I took several hours of labs each week, and many of the labs lasted until five o'clock, at which time I'd have to run over to the theatre to begin rehearsals that lasted until 9:00 or later. I received scholarships for my efforts, and made many MANY friends through my participation in VAPA, our Visual and Performing Arts program.

Mr. Nabors was one of these friends. He was my voice teacher, and the one teacher I had every.single.semester of college. I started with 30 minute lessons, then my second semester of Freshman year, I swapped to an hour long lesson each week. And each week, he would threaten me with his cane, compliment me when I achieved something I thought I was unable to do, and pick songs that seemed to be made for my voice. He was tough, lethally honest, and always hilarious. My accompanist, a great man as well, used to chuckle throughout our voice lessons, which he dubbed Comedy Hour. My voice grew to something I never thought it could be. Mr. Nabors constantly bemoaned my lack of practice due to my dedication to sciences, but when he paid me a compliment, I knew he was being honest.

Plenty of people were afraid of Mr. Nabors, partially because of this honesty, but also because of his presence. He was at least 6'7, and had a voice that filled a room. He was a true bass, but had a clarity to his voice that many basses lack. When he spoke, you could hear him across a football field. And when he sang, you never wanted him to stop. I heard him perform as Sorastro in The Magic Flute, which was magnificent, but he was best known for his renditions of old Negro spirituals (and You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch, but that was a rare treat indeed). Indeed, his presence was so large, so amazing, that you sometimes forgot he was a mortal man.

Mr. Nabors passed July 30, 2013 doing what he loved--performing. He was in Italy to teach and perform and while there, he suffered a fatal stroke. A man I considered to be immortal has passed away, but he has not died. I know that he is singing in God's choir in the sky.

Even now it seems surreal, but I have to be thankful for the things he has taught me and the memories we have shared, and I take comfort in the fact that I visited him numerous times since graduation, most recently a few months ago, during which time I was able to speak with him for over an hour.

Mr. Nabors was a great man, and he was a good man. He encouraged me to pursue my passions, and demonstrated this pursuit in his own life. I hope anyone reading this blog has their own Mr. Nabors, and I hope you tell him or her how much they have inspired you, how much they mean to you, and marvel at how they were put in your life. He certainly changed mine, and I am proud to say he was my mentor and an inspiration to me.