The hard, rude fact is that eleven-year-old Hallie Geier died Saturday, May 15, after a traffic accident in Sunnyside, Queens.  But, because Hallie lived her first three years on Roosevelt Island, and because of the nature of her family and the heart of this community, there is far more to the story.

Just sixty hours after her death, in a testimony to community networking and the reach of e-mail, the Chapel of the Good Shepherd was full to overflowing with Islanders and others embracing the Geier family, sharing their grief at her passing and their joy in her life.  Her classmates spoke.  Peter Yarrow came to sing “Puff, the Magic Dragon.”  Odetta led mourners in Kum By Ya.  Her fellow players in the recent Main Street Theatre production of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown sang “Happiness.”

The WIRE asked Sofia and Ted Geier to share their memories of their daughter with readers.

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Although our pain is great, and we want nothing more than to have her back, our daughter Hallie Geier was happy every day of her life, and we believe she is happy now.

Hallie’s first home was an apartment in Westview.  The hallway on our floor was her first playground, her playmates were like siblings, and her adult neighbors were like surrogate parents.  Hallie had surrogate family all over the Island.  Roosevelt Island is a community of families that nurture one another’s children, and these loving families are sustaining us now.

Our fond memories, some of them eleven years old and some with the paint still drying, include Lighthouse Park picnics, community room birthday parties, Halloween parades, the baby swings in the park, the red castle playground, walks along the river, and the joys of laundry.

Hallie loved to play by the big bell, getting muffins and ice cream from the bakery, going into the pizzeria (where her father waited tables in college) for a slice of pizza (cheese removed, of course), getting chips from the deli and the stationery store, eating soup at Trellis, and watching Saturday morning movies at the Library.  And most of all, she loved her friends.

Hallie was proof of the value of quality day care, as her experiences with Carroll and Phil and Eva and Gaspar demonstrate, and her times tumbling and creating art at Island Kids were among the best of many bests in her life.

Hallie and her sister M.J. had wonderful times performing at the Main Street Theatre.  Hallie and M.J. appeared together in How to Eat Like A Child, Charlotte’s Web, Alpha Girls, and in A Christmas Carol.  But Hallie trod the boards in productions where M.J. got to watch as well, including Like Totally Grimm and Dancers on the Line.  Some of us were fortunate enough to enjoy her recent performance as attitude-queen Sally Brown in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.  In December, she performed at MST with her father’s old band.

Hallie loved Roosevelt Island.  We moved ten minutes away to Sunnyside Gardens when she was three.  She seemed fine with that.  Six months passed.  Then one day she asked casually, “When are we going home?”  Of course, Roosevelt Island remained a part of our home for the rest of her life, and it was here we chose to return to begin the process of saying goodbye a week ago Tuesday.  Speaking of casual questions and comments, there were many worth noting in her years before kindergarten:

“Can you shave a frog?”

“If I don’t see my lover boy when I get back to (nursery) school, I’m going to scream!”

“A doctor cannot help a blueberry.”

“What does a chin do?”

“I know what a wonder-bra is.  It’s a bra that wonders.  It wonders things like: Can an egg crack itself?”

Hallie planned to make the world a better place, and she was already beginning to take action beyond her performances and her writing.  She asked both of us to help her find a place to volunteer.  She gave money to sad people on the street.  And she was saving her leftover lunch money to help children with AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa.  In fact, she has saved hundreds of dollars, and when her sister M.J. planned to march in last week’s AIDS Walk, she contributed $200.

Hallie’s kindergarten notebook left a specific message scrawled on the very first page:

People be nice to each other.  Love, Hallie.  

We ask everyone who sees that message to commit an additional act of kindness.

And, we ask those who wish to contribute to Hallie’s vision of a better world, which includes supporting organizations that work towards better health, environmental stewardship, culture, peace, and respect, to contribute to The Hallie Fund by visiting www.causeeffective.org.

We offer a sample of her writing:

Superheros don’t have to be big guys in red capes or cute little powerpuff girls.  Superheros can be those people that you see picking up trash, on your way to school.  It can even be somebody who helps replant forests.  They can be people who help at animal shelters, or donate money or food to homeless shelters.  Or helping an old lady across the street, or feeding a friend’s pet while they’re away.  I know that most kids (while growing up) want to be the kind in red capes.  But I want to be the kind of superhero that I just described.

(9/13/03)

I have always wondered why horns beep with awful noises.  Beep, bonk, honnnk, Braaap, Bebeep!  It is like Noise Pollution!  The beeping horns, I know for a fact are actually usually a big part of the reason why some people really think of New York as one big honnk!  I’m used to it, because I’ve lived in New York my whole life, but when I travel and go upstate I’m amazed at how peaceful and quiet everything is.  I always wonder why horns beep with such an angry sound.  I mean, why can’t they beep with a Beetles song, or words, like “Excuse me, but I think you should go now” in a magnified voice.  It would be much much more peaceful than – Beep, Bonk, Honnk, Braap, Bebeep.

(10/15/03)

I wonder what fireflies do
When it’s light?
Cold, without shine,
Until comes the night?
When they float in people’s faces,
Instead of being caught,
They are taught that in the day,
They are thought of –
As ordinary flies.
Ordinary
Nothings.
Do they feel lonely,
Like I do,
When the day ends?
Do they miss us?
The friends who catch and let them free?
I,
   miss,
      them.

(10/30/03)

Add a little sugar
Add a little spice.
Add a little sour,
Add a little nice.
Just a drop of arguments,
But overflow with love,
Family is the result,
Sent from above.
This is my family recipe,
it’s all about me,
and my family,
we’re all bound together,
in one tree.

(11/13/03)

I have been thinking about a new idea.  If humans could have one super power, what would it be?  I have finally decided that it would be the power to see things from another’s perspective. I think that if the arsonists in California could see how frightened and upset their victims were, they wouldn’t have done it.  The power wouldn’t be there if all you had to see was why your microwave wasn’t working.  It would kick in when you got an F on your science report, and are about to yell at your teacher, or you are going to kill someone because you think they killed your father, and then the power would kick in and you would see that your teacher thought that you hadn’t been thorough, or that the person hadn’t killed your father.  You could be in a war and hear the enemy’s mind praying to make it home safe.  There wouldn’t be as many wars.

(11/08/03)

I am of a mango spirit, my mother says.  She tells me that I am sweet, and colorful.  When I was being born, the food that she craved was mango.  I guess I fed on mangoes before I was born.  My mom says that’s why I’m “sweet.”  Mangoes are delicious, but I hate them mushy. Once I thought of a great motto – Mangoes are like people, You like them sweet, but you don’t like them mushy!  (Side note – my father likes them mushy.  He says then they are sweet, but I know better.)

(11/14/03)

When I was Younger…

When I was younger,
My cradle,
Was the whole world.
When I was younger,
everyone talked to me,
and I talked back,
but only in my mind.
I could see,
who I was,
And who I was going to be:
you,
because you took care of me.

When I was younger,
The moon was a giant ball,
just for us to bounce and one baby step
was a wonder
to me.
Now the moon is nothing
but a crater,
and a step, is one
of many.
but one thing is the same.
I want to be you, mother,
because you take care
of me.

(11/19/03)

(This refers to a recent concert at The Main Street Theater.)

My stomach clenches as my sister sings the last bars of her verse perfectly beautifully and soon it will be my turn.  We are singing with my dad’s old band for a sort of band revival reunion.  We sing back-up mostly, but in this song we sing solos.  Relax, I tell myself as my dad begins the drumbeat that comes before my part.  The musicians start up once more.  My stomach feels like it’s on a roller coaster.  I look at the audience through the blinding lights of the stage.  I glance at my overly confident sister.  She smiles and nods at me, then kicks my ankle.  I try to smile back at her.  I take a deep breath and open my mouth…

(12/21/03)