Saint Mary's Magazine Fall 2004 - Saint Mary's University of Minnesota

eviewing notes, rereading articles
and trying to recall salient class
discussions. Tired and trembling, we
arrived at the examination hall and
received the instructions
accompanying the exam. After the
initial shock, the one- or two-hour
writing exercise commenced.
Periodically I would look up from
my desk to ease the tension
knotting in my neck and there I
would see Father Fabian quietly
and reflectively praying the Liturgy
of the Hours at the rostrum.
Knowing that he was praying for
me gave a sense of comfort and I
returned to my examination.
Father Fabian has always been, first
and foremost, a gentle man of
prayer and secondly an inspiring
teacher whose thoughts and words
continue to influence the moral and
ethical lives of many men and
women.
— Rev. John Leonard Berg ’79,
Cuba City, Wis.
Although I do not know this from
first-hand experience, I am told that
when a student missed his class on
a particular day, he would say,
“There was a void in my life today,”
when he saw the student later that
day.
— Sheila (Dempsey ’77) Ryden,
Western Springs, Ill.
It was August of 1980 and I was
only two weeks into my SMC
journey when Father Fabian
approached me in a busy hallway.
Father Fabian said to me “Mr.
Markkanen, it’s been two weeks
and I have not seen you in noon
Mass yet; what seems to be the
problem?” I looked at him and said
“Well Father, I’m not Catholic.” His
eyebrows go up for a second and
he responds, “Ah, you’re one of
those hockey players.” As I stood
there dumbfounded and not sure
what to say, he merely finished the
conversation by telling me that I
was still welcome to join in noon
Mass. The story still puts a smile on
my face.
— Michael Markkanen, ’84,
Minneapolis, Minn.
I would describe Father Fabian as a
sage and rock amidst a modern,
whirling, constantly changing
world.
He is one of those figures in my life
who has become a soul archetype. I
have not seen him for over 15
years, but I quote him often (and
even frequently mimic his voice
when quoting him). I now find
myself stating to young, frustrated
colleagues of human service that
they “need to spend more time
studying the book of Nature.” Or,
when someone is getting frustrated
about learning
something for the
first time, I try to
explain to them
that “you need to
go from what you
know to what
you do not know
based on what
you already
know.” Or to the
young, frustrated
learner of a new
language, I will
state, in Latin of
course, that
“repetition is the
mother of
memory.”
— Bill Potocnik
’88,
St. Paul, Minn.
I was a
sophomore
seminary student
and had Father
Fabian for Logic
class just after the
lunch hour. It was
one of those firsttaste-of-spring
days and we had
the big windows
facing the
courtyard in front
of Heffron wide
Dr. Mary Fox ’75,
professor of
interdisciplinary studies,
poses with Father Fabian.
Father Fabian and Dr. Jeff
Highland were honored
as Affiliate Christian
Brothers in 2002.
open. (In those days, a first-taste-ofspring
day meant that students
would grab chairs and blankets and
lay out in the sun, spread out across
the entire lawn, around the
reflecting pool and statue of Mary,
and up and down the walkway in
front of Heffron.)
My desk was strategically located
next to the window, and as Father
breezed through the “square of
opposition” over and over for the
class, my thoughts (and eyes)
wondered out to the front lawn. As
I was sitting there lost in my gazing,
Father walked over to my desk and
peered out the window with me.
“What might we be looking at Mr.
Blaser?” was his question as he
scanned the lawn littered with
students hoping to catch the first
rays of summer. I quickly shot back
“The virgin Mary” – referring to the
statue located in the center of the
lawn, to which Father Fabian
replied “Hmmm, which one is she?”
— Mike Blaser ’85,
Sycamore, Ill.
My first introduction to Father
Fabian was in Philosophy of
Learning class in January, 1972.
“And from the E camp, we have Mr.
Ebert.” We were surprised and
amazed that he had memorized all
of our names before the first day of
class. We swore he had eyes in the
back of his head because whenever
your
attention would
stray, he’d know it and call on you,
leaving you sputtering and
apologizing for not listening. You
learned to pay attention in Fabes’
class.
Fabes lived in the dorms in those
days and was close to his classroom
students and residents of his dorm.
He would join us occasionally at
dinner in the Union and pose a
philosophical question for us to
ponder. Often, we pondered his
question all through the meal and
half into the night. He’d never give
us “the answer” but instead
delighted in our journey for the
truth. He always had, and still has
yet, a slightly crooked smile and a
twinkle in his eye that tells you he
truly enjoys what he is doing —
teaching, stretching minds, and
helping his students examine their
lives, morally and spiritually. Fabes,
thanks for lots of great memories.
With fondness, respect, and love,
— John Ebert ’75,
Watertown, Wis.
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