Thank you, Hask.

Dear Hask,

The other day, I wished you Happy Birthday on Facebook and read all the blurbs from fellow Penn students. Then I received the news through the Black Penn grapevine that you passed away. Needless to say, I was definitely taken aback. Then I started reminiscing a bit on your presence in our lives.

You would walk through Steiny-D or across campus and say hello to all the black students. You would stop us on the Walk and I know that’s how we probably met. I wasn’t one of your LEAD students but I always felt like one. You frequently checked up on me and the others, making sure we had what we needed to survive. When you showed up to Black Wharton activities, you shared sage advice with your kids on how to navigate the choppy waters of campus life and beyond. While I heard snippets and gained little nuggets of knowledge along the way, others received the blueprint for success at the school and in life in general.

You were a champion for Black folks on campus, giving so much of your energy to make sure we all had a fighting chance while preparing us to deal with the world beyond Locust Walk. You saw unlimited potential in all of us, even when there were times when we may have struggled or questioned our mere existence on the campus of one of the world’s most storied institutions. You were tough on us because you wanted us all to strive and achieve greatness; at the same time, you were a caring father who unconditionally loved all of us black Penn students, whether or not you knew our names.

I remember during my Wharton graduation ceremony, you were sitting on the stage with the other administrators. When my name was called and I walked across the stage, you were standing there with this huge smile on your face and you received me with one of the biggest hugs. I remember that moment so clearly; you congratulated me like I was your son, beaming with pride as you watched all of us who crossed the stage that day. When the ceremony was over and I went over to my family, Mama Virgil asked me “who was that tall man who hugged you?” I just smiled and said “that was Hask.” I went on to share with her how you made us feel like family at school, even when some parts of the university didn’t.

At every school reunion, you would come to campus to see your “children” and you always greeted us so warmly. If “Welcome Home” had a face, it was yours. As long as we saw you on campus and gave you a hug during the weekend, we knew we came back to our home base in West Philadelphia.

Your presence was larger than life. Anytime you appeared, whether it’s at the Howard E. Mitchell Career Forum or in the Multipurpose Room at Dubois, you instantaneously commanded everyone’s attention. When you began to speak, others went quiet and all eyes were on you. We all knew that you would say something powerful and moving that will stick with us somehow. In turn, we all felt empowered to do great things during our years at Penn.

One of the greatest legacies that you’ve left is the impact you had on all of us. Because of your unwavering commitment to our people, many of your children are now a big part of Penn life, ready, willing and able to carry the torch that burned so brightly during your time on campus. We are all so blessed to be able to stand on the shoulders of a giant who helped to change the climate of Penn’s campus for the better.

Thank you for everything, Hask. You’ve left us with so many memories; at the same, we will all miss you dearly. That said, we’re good to go. You did so much to prepare us. We’ll take the baton from here.

Clay