CHOIR: [SINGING] (SINGING) Tell me, where is the road I can call my own, that I left, that I lost so long ago? All these years I have wandered. Oh, when will I know there's a way, there's a road that will lead me home? After wind, after rain, when the dark is gone, as I wake from a dream in the gold of day, through the air, there's a calling from far away. There's a voice I can hear that will lead me home. Rise up. Follow me. Come away, is the call, with the love in your heart as the only song. There is no such beauty as where you belong. Rise up. Follow me. I will lead you home.
JULIANA BATISTA: Today, you embark on an adventure of the mind. You've come to one of the world's great research universities, an Ivy League institution that is also a land grant university for the state of New York, with a strong tradition of public engagement locally, nationally, and globally. Embrace its record. Take some risks. Study broadly. Engage deeply and globally. Set goals that will coalesce over time into a sense of purpose that extends beyond yourself, and keep asking what it's all about. New student convocation, August 2015.
RICHARD WALROTH: Remember the true importance of what you are doing here. You are the next generation of global leaders, innovators, scientists, scholars. You'll advance scholarship in new directions in dozens of fields, invent new devices or techniques, write brilliant and influential books, guide policymaking-- local, state, or national. Through your publications, jobs, and advisory roles, teach and inspire the next generation. Welcoming remarks at graduate student orientation, August of 2015.
MATTHEW BATTAGLIA: Troubling events across the country, on university campuses, and around the world have prompted discussion on our campus about issues of racism, bias, and discrimination. The conversations have been enlightening and important, yet also difficult, raising issues that are challenging to discuss, even as they are vitally important.
We will definitely continue these discussions, engaging respectfully with one another and listening with empathy as we strive to move our university closer to Ezra Cornell's founding egalitarian vision of any person, any study. As president, I am committed to that vision and will continue to work each day with each of you towards its realization. End of semester message, December 2015.
BJ SIASOCO: Whether we care for the campus grounds or maintain advanced research equipment, counsel students or manage payroll or process travel reimbursements, motivate donors or carry out any of the myriad of other functions required by a modern research university, I hope we all can see ourselves not only as competent and engaged members of our departments, or units, or work groups, but also as citizens of the university and contributors to its greatness. Address to staff, November 2015.
BARBARA BAIRD: I have been continually impressed by the accomplishments of the Cornell faculty, by your fascinating research in both basic and applied areas, by your scholarly publications and your creativity, by the recognition you have received for teaching and advising excellence, by the many ways you engage students and communities in service learning.
You will find in me your most enthusiastic supporter. You are at the core of Cornell's greatness, and it is my highest priority to support your academic endeavors and encourage excellence in research, scholarship, and teaching, including interdisciplinary and cross-campus collaborations. Inauguration faculty reception, September 2015.
ROBERT HARRISON: Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Bob Harrison, chairman of the board of trustees, and I'd like to welcome all of you here today. Let me especially welcome Professor Andrei Marmor, Beth's husband; Laura Gruntmeir Beth's sister; Lieutenant Governor Kathy Hochul; President Emeritus Hunter Rawlings and his wife, Elizabeth; former Chairman of the Board of Trustees, Harold Tanner; President of the University of Florida and former Cornell Provost, Kent Fuchs, and his wife, Linda; and Provost and Acting President of Cornell University, Michael Kotlikoff. Welcome, also, to those who are gathered together at Weill Cornell and Cornell Tech in New York City, and around the world via live stream.
Today, we are here to honor and to mourn the loss of Elizabeth Garrett, Cornell's 13th president, who passed away on March 6th after a brave battle with colon cancer. The loss is enormous, institutionally unprecedented and profound, both for Cornell and for many of us personally.
Beth was an extraordinarily passionate, courageous, and can-do leader who devoted her life to scholarship and public service. In the past 10 days, I have been flooded with condolences, expressions of disbelief, and memories of Beth from people whose lives she touched in Oklahoma, Virginia, Washington, Chicago, California, New York, China, and Israel. She was a remarkable role model and friend to so many.
Beth made an unforgettable first impression on me and others from the moment we met her during the presidential search committee interview. When she walked into the room, the energy level soared. First, there was that huge, dazzling smile. Second, there was a handshake and personal greeting of all 22 of us by name.
She then turned the two hours of Q&A into a virtuoso demonstration of deep familiarity with Cornell, a strong grasp of issues facing higher education, and an appreciation of the interests and backgrounds of the members of the search committee. She really knew how to work the committee. It felt like she was interviewing us, a remarkably self-confident, substantive, and impressive performance. We were all wowed.
After considering nearly 200 candidates and concluding that we had found Cornell's 13th president, the search committee conducted its due diligence to confirm our judgment. I and others reached out to Beth's professional colleagues. Our findings were completely consistent. She had a limitless capacity to absorb and assimilate information. Her energy was inexhaustible, and she was the best-prepared person in every meeting she attended. She was legendary for those qualities.
When I called Beth to offer her the job, she picked up the phone and remarked what a perfect day it was in Southern California. She said she was looking out her window at the Pacific Ocean, and the sky was clear blue and sunny. Then, she paused for me to speak. As I was about to offer Beth the presidency of Cornell University, all I could think about was how she would feel about the view out her window in Day Hall during Ithaca winters.
Well, I didn't need to worry. Beth accepted the offer and instantly became a proud Cornellian. She voraciously read books by Cornell faculty members. She asserted that the briefing materials prepared for her weren't thick enough. She regularly amazed everyone around her by how much she could pack into every single day. She wanted no time unscheduled when she was traveling for Cornell. If she had five meetings on the calendar, she asked for seven the next time.
True to style, she arrived in Ithaca completely prepared for the weather, with a Canada goose coat. I didn't even know they sold Canada goose coats in Southern California. She loved wearing it and completely embraced winter in upstate New York. She also loved wearing the red hats and scarves and other Cornell paraphernalia that alumni and students sent her. She was always on the lookout for red clothing, preferably sleeveless dresses, but also red accessories, making sure to choose the proper shade of red-- Cornellian red, not just any shade of red.
There's a great photo on the university's memorial website showing Beth touring the Ithaca Commons with Senator Kirsten Gillibrand and Mayor Svante Myrick. I noticed that Beth was armed with not one, but two red umbrellas, despite the absence of any rain in sight. Of course, she had done her homework and was prepared for Ithaca's unpredictable weather shifts later that day.
Cornell red, a color associated with energy and strength, was the perfect fit for Beth Garrett. Beth personified energy and strength in every waking minute of her life, including her battle with cancer these past several months.
I spoke with Beth frequently before and after she became our 13th president last July. Following her diagnosis, I would start every conversation with the question, "How are you feeling?" She was infectiously optimistic on every call. Sometimes she said she was feeling great, loaded with energy. Sometimes she said she was tired. But every single time, including my last call with her two weeks ago, she said she was going to beat the cancer and be back in Ithaca soon.
Beth Garrett never gave up. She impacted all of us. She was a close friend and a remarkable human being destined for greatness, whose life was cut tragically short. This is an extraordinary loss for Cornell and for the world, but I believe that her energy and spirit will continue to guide us from far above Cayuga's waters. Farewell, Beth. We will miss you.
ANNIE O'TOOLE: Hello. My name is Annie O'Toole. I'm a third year law student and a graduate student on Cornell's Board of Trustees. I was also a member of the presidential search committee which selected Beth to be our 13th president. Beth had a lasting influence on me in a short period of time. I looked up to her, both as our leader and as a mentor. In Beth, I saw the qualities I strive to possess. She inspired me to work harder to achieve them.
Beth was a lifelong student. She related to students because she herself never stopped learning. Her intellectual curiosity was limitless, and she had this very rare ability to continuously seek out new information while at the same time diving deeper to fully understand what she already knew. She was the type of student I strive to be every day when I walk into Cornell Law School.
Beth was also an exceptional lawyer who followed her passions. She was among the most accomplished lawyers in her field, the legislative process. She would have been successful in anything she pursued, but she was wise enough to pursue her true passions. She chose to work in the Senate to gain experience in her area of interest and later moved to academia to pursue her love for teaching. Her example reminds me that the greatest success is found when one follows one's passions.
Beth was driven. In fact, she may have been the hardest working person I've ever met. Beth put her all into every single thing she agreed to do. She would never commit to an obligation without committing to it fully. To me, she was always the most prepared, most engaged, most enthusiastic person in every room. She inspired me to put forth my best effort in every endeavor.
Beth was a natural leader. Her energy was infectious, and it motivated all those around her. She was strong and steady, and she led with both passion and compassion. She taught me to lead by example. Beth was a perfect fit for Cornell for all of these reasons. Her intellectual curiosity led her to quickly develop a thorough understanding of this large, complex institution. Her scholarly expertise and passion for the academic mission caused her to push Cornell to be a better university, among the very best in preparing students and disseminating scholarship.
Her drive allowed her to take on tough challenges without fear of the obstacles. Her natural leadership abilities inspired those around her. Beth had a profound effect on me, on Cornell, and I think on all of you. I wish that we had the privilege to be led by Beth for far longer. Though she's gone, her influence on us will extend far into the future. She pushed us all to be better, and we will continue to be motivated to achieve our full potential by aspiring to learn, work passionately and diligently, and lead in her image. Thank you.
MARK WEINBERGER: Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Mark Weinberger, and I had the privilege of knowing President Garrett for 25 years. And outside of my wonderful wife, Beth was my best friend in this world. September 17, 2015, just five short months ago, I was invited to give the Hatfield Lecture at the Alice Statler Auditorium. I remember standing in the wings and looking on as Beth introduced me. I caught myself smiling because I noticed her incredible excitement, her anticipation, her pride, her optimism, and pure awe as she was preparing the next day to become president of this incredible institution, Cornell. It's everything she had worked towards. She was ready.
She gave an outstanding introduction-- eloquent, warm, filled with great quotes and stories about us. And then I realized her introduction clearly just upstaged my entire speech. She was always perfect, and I used to get incredibly frustrated by this, to be honest. But over time, I got used to it. It's one of the many things over the 25 years that I came to love about Beth.
When people talk about Beth, the same words tend to come up again and again. You heard some from previous speakers. She was brilliant, fearless, tenacious, passionate, kind. She was a role model. She was a friend. For so many of us, she was even more. Beth was family. Bob, you alluded to this in your interviews with her. There are just some people in this world that suck oxygen out of a room when they enter it, and there are some that breathe life into it. And Beth breathed life into everything around her. There are those who constantly give and those you mostly take, and Beth was the ultimate giver.
No matter how busy Beth was-- and she was busy, probably more busy than any five people I know-- she always had time to answer a call, to help with a problem, to show up at an important family event or a friend's event. I know she always found time for Nancy and I and my four children. There wasn't a single birthday that she didn't remember and send a gift to all four of our children.
But for those who knew Beth well and long, does anybody remember her ever asking for anything? Except for the Cornell and USC donors-- she was very good about that, I must say.
But that was for the students, remember. Beth never really wanted to ask for anything, even in the end. Beth didn't want to burden people with her illness. She figured, like everything else in life, she'd muscle through it, beat it, move on, and get back to work.
I remember when we first met. We were working in the US Senate at the time. And back then, if you were a new staffer working out tax and budget issues, you'd learn a couple lessons pretty quickly. Find your office. Start figuring out the rhythm and set of procedures. And pretty soon, you'd learn another, even more important lesson. Never go against Beth Garrett in a debate. And I saw plenty who learned this the hard way.
Now, there's good and bad to that, for sure. My son, Della, who's sitting here in the front row, is Beth's godson-- somehow inherited her passion for debate, and she taught him too well. There was a rumor at the time that Beth decided to be a lawyer when she was three years old, and she confided, no, it was five. And Beth's parents actually confirmed that with me.
Beth always seemed to be in a hurry. People always marveled at how tireless she was, how she worked while others were sleeping, sometimes with needlepoint in hand. But it wasn't just her incredible energy that made Beth amazing. It was what she did with it. In an interview with the Times Higher Education, Beth once said, "When you are presented with options, choose the path where you can make the most difference, and that will bring you the most happiness and fulfillment."
Beth so wanted to make a difference in this world, to have a lasting impact on others, and only now in hindsight do I realize why Beth was in such a hurry to do it. She somehow knew things in advance that others didn't. In her way too short life, Beth Garrett made an indelible difference on so many lives. Her path led from Oklahoma City to the halls of the US Supreme Court, from the United States Senate to the roles of the highest levels of government, academia, and public policy, and it led her to become an educator and inspire students around the world.
Teaching was really Beth's DNA. She liked to say she was a fourth generation Oklahoman. Her mother's family had arrived there before it was a state and worked as schoolteachers. Her great-grandfather opened the first school on an Indian reservation in the territory. That tradition was passed down to her mother, also a teacher, and she taught Beth that every grade was partly the student's grade and partly the teacher's grade.
So much wisdom in that. It's true that Beth got the highest score on her state law exam, graduated first in her law school class. She could have been a brilliant and very wealthy lawyer, but she chose a life of education and scholarship, of building a better future for others. The riches in her life were her students. The parents of students she interacted with, the faculty that she empowered, and many others felt the same way.
Cornell student Nicole Dietz on the Cornell University Facebook page said "President Garrett, I remember when you came to our house dinner and went to each person at each table and greeted them and found a common point of interest. Your sincerity was felt. Thank you so much for being the leader you were to students."
Tracy Stuart [INAUDIBLE], mother of a Cornell student, on the same Facebook page-- "President Garrett seemed to have a way of connecting with anyone she spoke with. I remember chatting with her as I waited for my freshman son to return from the Odyssey program. I was more nervous than he was, and she couldn't have been kinder. I thought I was chatting with another parent until we changed names. I think right then, I knew my son was at the right university."
And Ryan Lombardi, VP of Student Campus Life-- "I was in touch with her until the day before she passed. I had an email from her at 4:30 AM that said please tell the students I'm sorry. I will not be able to be with them today. Please tell them how proud I am to be their president."
To the very end, no matter how much her title or position changed, Beth described herself as a teacher first and foremost. She was a person who worked tirelessly to give her students what she once said the Oklahoma prairie gave to her family, a sense of limitless opportunity.
When Cornell announced that Beth would be the first female president, anybody who knew her wasn't the least surprised. Beth found a way of breaking barriers, of being first, of doing just anything, as I said, better than anyone else. A few years ago, Beth spoke about standing vigil for her hero and former boss, Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall. His body was lying there in state, and she mused how meaningful it was that so many people gathered to honor him in his memory. And I'm sure she would be proud today, looking at all of you.
She went on to say that it felt like her responsibility as someone who knew him to do more than remember him. It was incumbent on her to carry his work forward, to stand for what he stood for, to fight for what he fought for, wherever she could. Beth never gave up the fight.
And before I conclude, I want to just say a quick, profound thank you to a few people, first to Beth's husband, Andrei. Andrei was a constant support and anchor in Beth's life. Andrei is incredibly successful in his own right as a well-known scholar in law and philosophy, but he always let Beth shine, always supported her and moved his career around to support her.
And Andrei, on behalf of all of us, thank you so much as well for what you did in the last several weeks of her life. When Beth got too weak to talk and we'd text each other, she always mentioned that you were there helping her with something, waiting there for her, always there for her.
Laura, I want to thank you, too, not only for being a wonderful sister who was always there for her, as she was for you, but for also sharing the lives of Sarah and Robert so fully with her. I know she loved you and them so much, and they were a constant source of pride to her. You should be incredibly proud.
And finally, I just-- thank you to all of Beth's close friends and mentors at USC. Beth never got the chance to show you everything you taught her in preparation for Cornell. Max Nikias, the current president of USC, was a father-like mentor to Beth and credits him with teaching her so much about life, about education, and about scholarship. I know she wanted to make you proud. And Catherine Harrington is here today. Beth called her her best friend and soul mate, the only thing that might have prevented her from moving all the way to Cornell. You were incredibly important to her.
So Beth, all that's left is me to say to you-- I would say rest in peace, but I doubt that will happen. On behalf of Nancy, my wife, Rachel, Noah, Sean, and Ben, and me, thank you for making all of our lives better. You lifted us up with the power of your example, and you touched us with the countless small acts of kindness. You were the embodiment of what Eleanor Roosevelt once said. "Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends leave footprints in your heart."
And Beth, you'll always leave footprints in my heart. As Thurgood Marshall was your hero and you wanted to emulate what he had done, you are mine, and I commit to you to carry forward the ideals in your life, to inspire a new generation to strive for something better, to use whatever energy I have to make the world a more kind and just place, to make tomorrow better than today. I cannot think of a better way to honor you. Beth, I miss you already, and I always will.
ORLI ETINGIN: Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Orli Etingin, a Weill Cornell physician. Andrei and Cornell faculty and students, I'm deeply touched to be here to honor President Elizabeth Garrett. Albert Einstein once said that there is no greater responsibility or privilege than to be entrusted with the welfare of man's body and spirit, and I was so privileged to take care of Beth Garrett, both all during her time at Cornell in health, and then during this devastating illness.
I met Beth early last year and spent a lot of time with her in these past few months. Although our time was cut short, I hope to give you a glimpse of the Beth Garrett I got to know. Beth was an awesome woman-- a scholar, a true leader, and a visionary. She was energetic and was so excited about leading Cornell into the future, working with the students and the faculty. She took great pride in the work being done at Cornell and the many things she hoped to do, especially with the students. She was particularly outspoken about the role of a broad education as the best road to public service.
Dr. Joe Ruggiero, her devoted oncologist who took care of her along with me said that she fought with enormous courage and grit to have more time, simply so she could work in the service of the university. And as her illness progressed, she worked through suffering and the rigors of treatment too. Every moment she felt well, and many moments she did not, she continued to have meetings, travel, and give her amazing speeches.
Those of us who knew were awestruck by her perseverance and resilience, despite the pain and the trauma. Whenever there was a brief respite from the pain or the treatments, she would be sending those emails to her Cornell faculty and students. Many of you know you got those emails at 3:00 AM. And she was holding conference calls from her hospital room all the time.
She was a true leader through the illness. She rallied her doctors around her too. Several of us became so close to her and Andrei, not because she was the president of Cornell, but because of who she was. We spent a lot of time talking about her illness, but also about the things in life that Beth loved most, most of all, Andrei and their daughters, her sister, Laura, and her family.
Dr. Sharaiha, Beth's gastroenterologist, told me that even though she felt that Beth was an extraordinary woman of accomplishment who she admired more than any other, Beth also loved the ordinary things-- ice cream, watching Scandal, Helmut Lang and Max Mara clothing, and traveling. And she always tried to cheer us up. Like a leader, Beth kept her doctors going as she led us through the illness, never losing hope. Often after a rough night, she'd be sitting at her laptop doing work, saying "I feel better. Today's going to be a better day."
One Sunday morning, I was in the ICU with her, a few weeks ago after her surgery. She was in a sunny room. It was a good day for her. She was looking out over Roosevelt Island, where she hoped to open the tech campus one day. It was right after the Supreme Court Justice, Antonin Scalia, had died.
And it occurred to me that I was sitting with a preeminent legal scholar and authority about the Supreme Court, so I just asked her, "Would President Obama be able to get his nominee confirmed for the Supreme Court?" And Beth said no, that never was going to happen, and she patiently explained to me why it wouldn't. And then she very casually mentioned to me that she'd gotten a handwritten note just the week before from Ruth Bader Ginsburg wishing her good health and sympathizing with her after her devastating illness too. I was absolutely awestruck by Beth's humility.
Andrei, you were her rock and her greatest supporter. You were the love of her life, and she always said that when she knew the treatment was going to fail her, she'd only want to be spending the time with you. That time was so short because Beth always hoped that she would recover from this illness until the last day. Her last month was spent in the hospital. She kept her upbeat manner, always trying to support those helping her.
On the day she went home from the hospital after five weeks, which turned out to be her last day, I asked Beth what she wanted to do most when she got home. Would she want to sit in her sunny spot in the living room or do something special? And she replied to me that first and foremost, she wanted to do her taxes.
And I said, "Really, Beth? Do your taxes? I mean, how fun could that be?" And she said, with her great, dazzling, big grin-- she said to me, "Orli, you've forgotten I'm a tax attorney."
But that's who Beth was at heart, an educator and a tax attorney.
And on that last night, when Beth and Andrei knew it was the end, I came to their home to help her out of the pain. And she pulled me close and gave me a message to give all of you in the Cornell community. She said, "Please, Orli, please tell them. Be sure to tell them at Cornell that I think they're great, that there are important things in store for them. I am so proud of everyone, and I know that they'll be fine. There's a great road ahead for Cornell."
Beth, we're going to miss you so much. You were an awesome person. You inspired so many people to learn more, do more, and be more. Thank you, Beth Garrett.
MICHAEL KOTLIKOFF: As we've all heard this afternoon, Beth Garrett touched all of us and thousands of others in deep and enduring ways. For Cornellians, her intelligence, her energy, her candor, and her fierce determination inspired us to think more boldly about what we can achieve together, and to take greater risks to get there.
Beth was an accomplished legal and political theorist. She was proud of her scholarship and her stature within the academy. She saw herself as a role model for those who cherish teaching, research, writing, public service, and yes, that commonly reviled activity, academic administration. She retained a deep connection with faculty in her discipline long after she became a provost and a president, and was knowledgeable and current and interested in developments and discoveries in the sciences, humanities, and in the arts.
Her career offers a definitive refutation to cynical assumptions about academic leaders and about women in positions of leadership. "I think it's very important," she said shortly after being named president elect, "that women and men see strong women leaders in positions of responsibility so we understand that certain characteristics, like gender, like race, do not determine how well people do as leaders."
Beth's decisiveness and her high standards, combined with her professional achievements and her bold vision for Cornell, convinced me to say yes when she asked me to join her in Day Hall. With her infectious enthusiasm and stunning smile, this connected and savvy Oklahoman was a great, great fit for Cornell, the down to Earth and democratic Ivy.
Her ambitions were expansive-- to renew and revitalize the faculty as the foundation of Cornell's stature as a preeminent research university; to redefine and add value to the land-grant mission and our unique relationship and partnership with New York state; to enhance the academic experiences of our diverse students by making a Cornell education more engaged, more global, and more entrepreneurial, while also building on the strong foundations of the liberal arts and the sciences; and finally, to exploit the extraordinary potential of Cornell's dual footprint in Ithaca and New York City, rural and urban, to create new collaborations that would extend the university's excellence and its impact.
We quickly formed a special bond. The whip-smart and tough outsider who did her homework and knew everything about everyone she met sought someone she could trust to explain Cornell's culture, our history, our values, and our current challenges. Very shortly, as Beth often said, we were finishing each other's sentences.
Tragically, the plans that Beth brought to her dream job, the presidency of Cornell, were irrevocably altered shortly after assuming her position, when she learned that she had advanced stage colon cancer. I think it's very important for everyone in our community to know that Beth was enduring symptoms of her illness and undergoing difficult treatments for much of the time that she was with us, but our president, this force of nature, refused to surrender to her disease, as you've heard, refused to allow it to define her. She was convinced that she would beat it. In this, too, she challenged gender stereotypes and behavioral assumptions.
While many of us may wish that she had allowed us an opportunity to offer expressions of comfort, affection, and encouragement, and in the end to allow us to grieve with her, Beth would have none of it. She told me, "Mike, I don't want to be the president with cancer." She was deeply private about her personal health, and she had every right to be. Instead, Beth chose to concentrate all of her energy on Cornell-- the next challenge, the vision of the future, and the people she needed to approach to help us succeed.
In her magnificent inaugural address, Beth set out her hopes for Cornell. She used CP Cavafy's poem, "Ithaca," as a metaphor for life's difficult journeys. Beth's journey to Ithaca, her bravery, and her commitment to excellence will continue to inspire a generation of Cornelians who have all too briefly felt the intense power of her intellect, her ambition, and her aspirations. We are grateful for what she accomplished, humbled by her courage, moved and motivated by her vision.
Let us continue the journey together while acknowledging the promise lost. Let us remember her and the ways in which she touched us-- that stunning smile and her passion for scholarship and for the academy. Let us affirm Beth's aspirations for Cornell and honor her by our commitment to them.
CHOIR: (SINGING) Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind but now I see. Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace, my fears relieved. How precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed. Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come. Tis Grace has brought me safe so far, and grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me. His word my hope secures. He will my shield and portion be, as long as life endures. The Earth will soon dissolve like snow, the sun forbear to shine. But God, who called me here below will be forever mine.
SPEAKER: This afternoon, we have heard how Beth touched our lives. And when I think of her legacy, I immediately think of the word "momentum" because she was always in motion. As Provost Kotlikoff said, she was a force of nature with a stunning smile. Cornell is committed to honoring President Garrett's resolve to build on the vision of Ezra Cornell and Andrew Dickson White, and for us to embrace and challenge-- embrace the challenge for something ever better. Thank you for being here today in Bailey Hall and around the world, and thank you for participating in this celebration of Beth's life.
I now invite today's speakers and the leaders of the shared governance groups here today to come to the stage and join us in singing the alma mater. And following the alma mater, I invite everyone here to join us and Beth's family at a reception directly outside on Bailey Plaza. Thank you.
CHOIR: (SINGING) Far above Cayuga's waters, with its waves of blue, stands our noble alma mater, glorious to view. Lift the chorus. Speed it onward. Loud her praises tell. Hail to thee, our alma mater. Hail, all hail Cornell. Far above the busy humming of the bustling town, reared against the arch of heaven looks she proudly down. Lift the chorus. Speed it onward. Loud, her praises tell. Hail to thee, our alma mater. Hail, all hail Cornell.
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More than 1,000 Cornellians reflected on the life and legacy of President Elizabeth Garrett at a moving memorial gathering March 17, 2016 at Bailey Hall. Garrett died March 6 at age 52 after battling colon cancer.