It's All Part of Going to College; A Tribute to Bob Bellizzi

My twentieth high school reunion is less than a week away, and I plan on grabbing the microphone at some point, standing before my fellow students, and saying a few words about my favorite teacher, Bob Bellizzi. Bellizzi died on May 7th, 2006, at the age of 57. An informal poll taken by my school newspaper in 1986 revealed that Bellizzi was the most popular teacher at Albany High School - even above the beloved hippie, Mr. Petersen.

"Belliz" was a heavy Italian man with black hair, a black moustache, and ever-present stubble. His eyes looked perpetually bloodshot, making one believe (erroneously) that he was a pot smoker, or (also erroneously) that he was stoned a lot in college. Nevertheless, he was a very funny guy.

I was privileged to have Mr. Bellizzi for fifth period - a period that ran 15 minutes longer than the other periods, because of lunch. Our fifth period class was often ahead of Bellizzi's other classes, and - while they caught up - Mr. Bellizzi would entertain us with funny stories about his college days. I'll never forget Bob Bellizzi's stories of playing keyboards in Beatles cover bands, or his anectdotes about "Swahili," a beer-guzzling friend from college.

Ironically, I was thinking of writing down and publishing Mr. Bellizzi's funny college stories (or, at least, putting them on my blog) when I learned of his death this spring. I had wanted to call Bob Bellizzi at home, to have him fill-in the details that I'd forgotten, when word came to me that he was gone.

Robert Bellizzi was born in New York City in 1949, and moved to Delmar in 1958. After college, he continued to live in Delmar, and stayed there the rest of his life. He taught Social Studies at Albany High for over 25 years. A great fan of baseball, Mr. Bellizzi also started the College of Saint Rose baseball program in the late 1970s, and for nearly three decades, he was its only head coach.

Bellizzi's health problems began in 1996, when he was diagnosed with leukemia. He underwent a bone marrow transplant the following year, but he was left with a weakened immune system. In 1998, he was hospitalized with a life-threatening case of pneumonia. In 2004, while awaiting a kidney transplant, Bellizzi had to undergo a quadruple bypass, which left him with infections and poor circulation in his lower extremeties. He died of complications from leukemia this May, leaving behind a wife and five children. (He was also out-lived by a brother, a handful of neices and nephews, and both his parents.) To me and his other eleventh-grade American History students, he was our favorite teacher at Albany High. I even went so far as to make a short-lived comic strip about our class, "Bellizzi's Fifth," featuring drawings of Belliz, myself, and a couple other students.

Bob Bellizzi's college stories centered not so much on himself, but on a beer-loving Irishman named John; only John's father called him "John" - to everyone else, especially at college, he was "Swahili," or just "Swah." John liked the nickname, and had it stitched in yellow cursive over the breast of his purple windbreaker.

We all know someone like Swahili - a heavyset party guy who loves his beer, and sometimes gets into trouble when drunk. Swahili had an accomplice, a small guy who acted as his enabler - when Swah said, "I oughtta punch that guy in the face," the little parrot-on-his-shoulder would say, "Do it," and then Swah would. I forget the actual name of Swah's little parrot, but I'll call him "Skeezik" here. (It was one of Bellizzi's favorite insulting nicknames, given to his geekier students, like me.)

And so it went. Bellizzi, Swahili, Skeezik, and their other friends would have a party at one of the dormitories; Swahili would get very drunk and want to do something dangerous or even illegal, and Skeezik would encourage him to do it. Afterwards, Bellizzi would often protest: "What did you do that for, Swah? Are you crazy? We're all going to get in trouble!" And Swahili would always answer, "Relax, Belliz. It's all part of going to college." (To Swahili, college meant drinking and getting into mischief, it didn't mean going to classes, studying, or earning a degree.)

Sometimes Bellizzi and his college buddies would go to the drive-in movies, and in Swah's mind, no trip to the drive-ins would be complete without ripping a movie speaker from its post, stealing it, and bringing it back to the dorm, where Swah had a rapidly growing collection of speakers.

Bellizzi and/or Skeezik would often find themselves in the trunk of the car before entering the gate - to save on admission costs. Once inside, Belliz (and/or Skeezik) would get out of the trunk, and they'd all settle down to watch the movie. Swahili, of course, would be drinking in the car.

"I ought to rip that movie speaker from the post, steal it, and bring it back to the dorm," Swah would say, about halfway through the movie.

"Do it," Skeezik would dare. And then Swahili would.

"Aw, Swah! What did you do that for?" Bellizzi would ask. "You've got enough of those things in your room already! We're gonna get caught!"

"Relax, Belliz," Swahili would say. "We're not gonna get busted. Come on, man, have some fun. It's all part of going to college." And thus the semester would pass.

Swahili liked to drink a lot, but give him an excuse to drink - like Saint Patrick's Day - and he'd drink even more. ("I'm Irish," he liked to remind people. "We Irish can drink everyone under the table.") Not only did Swah drink more on Saint Patrick's Day, but his level of mischief-making was also cranked up a notch.

"I oughtta get some green paint and paint Main Street green," Swah said - a brazen crime to commit, even after dark on Saint Patrick's Day.

Skeezik waited a beat or two longer than he usually did, giving Swahili's proposed act an added element of drama. Finally, he got in Swahili's face and said, "Do it."

Although Swah was the only real perpetrator of the crime, all the boys were arrested after he began painting the street green - Bellizzi, Skeezik, and the rest of their crew. They were handcuffed, driven to the police station, and booked. Each was given the opportunity of "one free phone call," as is police procedure. Naturally, every one of them called their parents... and then tried to explain why they were in jail. Swahili reached his father.

"Dad," he began, suddenly sober. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. We're Irish, and it's Saint Patrick's Day, and... well, I got pretty drunk and decided to paint the street green. I don't know what to say."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and then a sigh. "John," Swahili's dad said. "Don't worry about it, son. It's all part of going to college."

Seventeen years later, Bob Bellizzi spoke the last line of this story and sauntered off, grinning, while his fifth-period American History class erupted in laughter.