I worked for Anne when she was Chair of the Music Department. She never wasted one second of any day. Dashing off to a meeting, she would take a roll of tape and posters for the next concert to hang across campus on her way.
When my daughter was in kindergarten, she was involved in her first play and I was working that morning. When Anne came in to the office we were talking about our children and I mentioned that I was missing my daughters star performance in The Little Red Hen. She immediately said “Go you can still make it.“ I never forgot her kindness on that busy day. She often talked about her Son and I knew how important he was to her.
She was a brilliant woman with boundless energy and a joy to work for.
Anne was our neighbor, in Newton and friend, in Newton. We lived right next to her. She was always so warm to us and welcoming. Her ability to carry so many roles and still remain connected was inspiring. in 1982 I was soon to have our baby son and she served as a role model for a working mom. There are many stories I could tell but I think the most personally moving was that she held a baby shower for me in the neighborhood. It was above and beyond any call of duty and it meant so much to me, as did Anne. The relationship grew and I also I began to teach Jacob art in my private afternoon art school, as well. I so enjoyed working with Jacob. Anne was our neighborhood leader. She made music and community happen. She was a rare soul. We honor her memory.
I feel it’s finally time for me to accept the fact that you are gone. You were in my doctoral committee, and edited my doctoral lecture-document countless times. You helped me for applying jobs by writing many references. You were the first person to read my tenure application and give me suggestions. You were so happy when I got a tenure - without your help, I couldn’t have done all the above. I felt you were with me in every step. I owe you everything. Thank you so much Anne, for everything you’ve done for me. I miss you very much. You will stay in my heart forever.
I first met Anne Dhu in 1990 when I arrived onto the Boston College campus at Chesnut Hill at the invitation of the Irish Studies Programe (Adele Dalsimer). Based at the Music Department I was immediately thrown into a close working relationship with Anne that resulted directly in an Irish Music Programe at BC that continues to this day. She attended every one of my lectures and when i finished by visiting semester and went back to Ireland she continued the work until a full-time replacement was found.
October 27 2012
Thank you everyone for gathering to commemorate, to mourn, and to celebrate my mother’s life.
I am Jacob Shapiro, the only child of Anne Dhu McLucas.
It is shocking and hard to fathom that 7 weeks ago my mother was killed in act of violence that should never, ever, have even touched her life.
This morning we buried her ashes at Mount Auburn Cemetery.
Where does such sadness in wood come
from? How could longing live in these
wires? The box looks like the most fragile
coffin tuned for sound. And laid
across the knees of this woman
it looks less like a baby nursed
than some symbolic Pietà,
and the stretched body on her lap
yields modalities of lament
and blood, yields sacrifice and sliding
chants of grief that dance and dance toward
a new measure, a new threshold,
a new instant and new year which
we always celebrate by
remembering the old and by
recalling the lost and honoring
those no longer here to strike these
strings like secrets of the most
satisfying harmonies, as
voices join in sadness and joy
and tell again what we already
know, have always known but forget,
from way back in the farthest cove,
from highest on the peaks of love.
A rare experience of a moment at daybreak, when something in nature seems to reveal all consciousness, cannot be explained at noon. Yet it is part of the day’s unity.
Eliot Grasso literally set the tone at a public memorial service for former University of Oregon School of Music and Dance Dean Anne Dhu McLucas.
He began the service with a piece he had composed — and aptly named “Boundless” — in his former teacher’s honor. As he played it on the uilleann pipes, the bagpipe of Ireland, he evoked both dirge and irrepressible vitality.