Sybil Novinski was, as one faculty member put it, the “soul of UD.” She knew every student by name, reportedly by Christmas of their freshmen year. As registrar, archivist, colleague, mentor and friend, Sybil’s guidance and encouragement changed lives. Many will recall that these pages have previously been dedicated to a regular column she wrote entitled “Letters from Sybil.” In this special issue, you’ll read just a few of many letters (and a poem!) to Sybil from faculty, staff and students, ranging from the 1960s to the 2020s.
For Michael, Gregory, Sybil, Stefan, and David
Her voice: when we remember Sybil, first is not her image.
It is her voice, explaining something about the school we need to know,
welcoming us to the home she and Lyle made the center of UD,
inviting us to her coffee on Friday next. At school, at home with Lyle
and without, what we remember is her voice: it calmed us, it invited us,
it relayed something even now hard to put into words. As a dove descending
onto the branch of a tree, Sybil’s voice landed on the porch of one’s ear—not just
on her children’s, but on every ear within its extensive and embracing range.
Where has that voice gone? Where did it come from? It is not yet faint,
but it will be. Where did it come from? From somewhere at the center or the edge—
out there, in here—it arrived to announce its love. Where has that loving voice gone?
Somewhere to the center or the edge—in here, out there.
Her voice grows faint as the contours of Lyle’s hands dissolve, yet
together now somewhere else out there, in here: wings shuddering, the dove ascends.
1980s: Amber Jade Johnson, BA ’89
Me: Can I take 8 classes? Sybil: It is your first semester; take a smaller amount and let’s see how it goes. Me: I accept that challenge. Sybil: Good! Second semester: Me: How many classes can I take? Sybil (perusing her computer first, then with a big smile): “You can take as many as you want and I am very proud of you! Can you keep up the good work with more classes?” Me: (with a big smile) I accept that challenge! Sybil Novinski was much more than a registrar. She loved every person who came into her office and challenged them and encouraged them. When I was accepted to graduate school, I ran to Sybil’s office. She was the first person I told. I could not have done it without her encouragement.
1990s: Matthew Morris, BA ’94
Attending Cistercian for high school, I already knew some of the Novinski family, but my first encounter with Sybil was during a face-to-face meeting with her and Bob Haaser about possibly transferring to UD after my freshman year at the University of Chicago. UChicago wasn’t a good fit for me, and I needed a new path. As Sybil was UD’s registrar at the time, the meeting naturally focused on enrollment mechanics, credit transfers, etc. I had not met her before, but being a member of the Cistercian family, Sybil made me feel like I was part of her family. Some three decades later, the only thing I actually recall from that meeting was her warmth and kindness and the clear sense that UD was the obvious next step. My transfer to UD was the right decision for me, and it resulted in a fulfilling undergraduate experience. I’ll be forever grateful to Mrs. Novinski and Mr. Haaser for helping me get to where I needed to be.
2000s: Ed Schad, BA ’01
My memory of Sybil, as I am sure is the case with many others, involves both her and Lyle together. Together, they ignited a love of art in me that I have carried into my life and career as an art curator for over 20 years. Lyle gave me a well-placed and well-timed compliment on our Rome semester trip to Greece, when we found ourselves alone together in Delphi Archaeological Museum. While looking at the same sarcophagus long after the rest of the class had left, he told me: “This is such a magnificent carving, Ed. I suspect you understand this deeply.” That was all it took to set me on a path that led me a year later to Sybil’s registrar office. I asked her permission to take high-level electives outside of my major so I could follow my passions wherever they led. In short order, her guidance helped me into high-level philosophy, art, and literature courses that enriched every part of my life. The Novinskis were incredible educators and wonderful people.
2010s: Alex Taylor, BA ’15, IPS PhD (cand.)
Dear Sybil: Thank you for your generosity in showing me the University Archives as an undergraduate, sparking a great flame of interest in UD’s history as well as archival research more generally. You were part of that history and brought it to life in discussions of this place you cherished and helped to build with great care and particular devotion.
2020s: Kathryn Weber, MA ’24
Dear Sybil: Thank you for encouraging me to pursue my master’s degree at UD. Besides being my aunt-in-law, you were also a role model for me in so many ways. I had always admired the way you and Lyle hosted UD students for dinners, and how you continued to host events even after Lyle’s death. Your Oct. 15 email to me is a great example: “Just had a dozen alums for coffee over alumni weekend. Amazing folks. So proud.” You were always proud of others, yet humble about yourself, even though you were such an amazing woman! And your actions inspired Mark and me to do likewise and host CUA students that he taught. We miss you greatly! May God grant you eternal rest and peace.
1960s: Carlo Zabbia, BA ’82 MDiv ’85
I first attended UD as a freshman in ’67-’68. My student work study program included working in the Admissions Department under the divine Sybil. It was such an honor and pleasure. One day, we were addressing envelopes to prospective students. The secretary was new and obviously non-Catholic. She addressed the envelopes to “such and such on street Charles Avenue.” She didn’t realize that St. stood for saint. Sybil noticed the error and asked me to correct the erroneous envelopes. She even hosted a small party in the office for the “Topping of the Tower.” She and Lyle were always smiling. It was an honor to work for her.
1970s: Denise Schuler, BA ’75
I’ve known Sybil for more than 50 years. First as a student worker in the Registrar’s Office, then as a colleague when I coordinated the Rome Program, and always as a friend visiting her whenever I visited the Dallas area. It was a joy to watch her children grow up and hear Sybil’s stories of family activities. I enjoyed working with her and she helped me tremendously when I started working for Fr. Fandal. Some of my fondest memories were the summer Sybil arranged for us, Barbara Lunce, and other staff to take one afternoon off a week to visit places in Dallas that Sybil thought we should see. Ted Karakekes drove us all over Dallas in the minibus that summer. I will miss Sybil and enjoy memories of our times together.
Dear Sybil,
Thank you for your long and dedicated service to UD. You were exceedingly generous to me when I was selected to be UD’s seventh President. Your most extensive knowledge of UD’s history was most helpful in learning about UD’s unique nature and its contributions to students, to alumni, to Dallas, and to the Church. What I remember most, though, is the kind invitation from you and Lyle for me to accompany you and your summer students on the trip to Greece and Rome in 2007. Both you and Lyle had been quite ill during the previous winter, and you invited me to provide back-up teaching and a number of my own lectures on the archaeology of several sites we visited. I loved the opportunity to teach again, and the students were wonderful. Back on campus, I relied on you as Archivist to ensure that we took the steps necessary to keep our records and other important documents well-secured and accessible for those interested. I also loved the role you played on Baccalaureate Day each year, assembling the graduates in the Student Center, leading them in singing “Guadeamus Igitur”, and then sending them off to Mass. There could be no better ending to their life at UD. Thank you most gratefully!
Dr. Frank Lazarus, President Emeritus
Dear Sybil,
How well I remember asking you, when you were Registrar: Is it true you know every student, and you replying, “well, I do by Christmas.”
Dr. Michael Platt
Sybil embodied the true spirit of UD. Friendly, inquisitive, curious, warm-hearted, and generous. Her presence was edifying, her house a place of respite and inspiration. Sybil was a delight. She will be sorely missed.
Dr. Philip Harold, Dean of the Constantin College of Liberal Arts
Dear Sybil,
I have been meaning to tell you this all along: For all the years I have known you, I have always thought of you as the soul of UD.
Maybe it was a coincidence, but my warm feeling of connection and gratitude for you started on the day when I visited the campus for a harrowing day of interviews in hopes of getting the position in German. You went to lunch with the committee at a nearby Chinese restaurant. On the way out, you handed me a fortune cookie. When I read the fortune, all anxiety and worry were gone. It said, “You will get the job.” And I did.
And then there were the occasions when I tearfully retreated to your office, when the frequent attacks on the German major became overwhelming. I found strength and comfort from your calm empathy.
And then there were the times when I sent students to see you, because they had lost focus and commitment. One episode has stayed with me: A likable and smart young lady just would not live up to her potential and could not decide on a major or a future career. She just could not be inspired by my advice. So, I decided to consult you and took her downstairs to your office. You asked her what she liked to do and what her aspirations for the future were. She described vividly a life of entertaining, piano recitals and wonderful gourmet experiences. You let her finish and then responded calmly: “I am truly sorry, but the position of princess does not exist anymore.” The story has a happy ending: The student became a dedicated nurse.
I have happy memories of visiting you last year, when I stayed in the Dallas area. We relived many happy moments of my time at UD and caught up with our busy lives in the past years. It was a great joy to me that you actually signed up for the class about the Trojan Women, which I taught last year via ZOOM for the Academy of Learning in Retirement of San Antonio. I was happy to see you on the screen every Friday. Now that you are gone, I remember your kind and engaged face.
Thank you for the calmness and joy you brought to my life.
Hella Hennessee, Faculty
A 17-year-old, an intellectually hungry senior at Irving High, I stumbled on to the UD campus by accident during the vacancy of spring break, and met a couple of students who saw I needed attention and alerted Sybil at home. She met me in her office in Carpenter Hall, surrounded by boxes, with piles of files on her desk. I don’t remember exactly what we said – except that at some point she asked, “What would it take to get you to come to UD?” But mainly I remember that within minutes of seeing and hearing her, I knew I had found a home.
She saw me, recognized me, as few did. And I trusted her. And as a student and later as a teacher at the University of Dallas, and then in recent years as a dear friend, I have always trusted her. She has always been a touchstone for me, and now more than ever.
Her simplicity and directness, her steadiness, her unpretentious presence, are amazingly rare. Especially rare, within the heady and intoxicating atmosphere of the early years of the university. As a student I was caught up in the high flying glamor of ideas, intensities of conversations, breathless ambitions – a small and freshly minted school imagining itself in terms of Christian eschatology, carrying auguries of high destiny. It was wonderful!, transformative – but also volatile and unstable in its human effects. Looking back now to that bedazzled and deeply bewildered young woman, I realize that Sybil’s initial quiet gaze and acceptance have been in a way the true center of my love of UD.
When I returned to the university to teach, I encountered that intellectual community in an even more intense form, still coming to be through the guidance of Don and Louise Cowan. It was an exhilarating time – glorious in its way – but high drama too. So many times in my career at UD, I would come flying into Sybil’s office and rehearse the latest drama – and while understanding my fears, she would deflect the tragic outcome by reminding me of some lurking possibility.
In recent years, after Lyle’s retirement, I’ve been privileged to be a steady visitor at the Novinski’s 10 o’clock coffees. And since Lyle’s death, a weekly visitor. It has become a central part of my life. And it is hard to express why the simple gesture of gathering for coffee with Sybil and her son David, and all comers, has come to mean so much. Sybil was at the center, but not at the center. Her being there allowed a space for speech, etymology, astronomy, theorizing, storytelling, lots of laughter. A strange amalgam of characters, in the midst of life, coming together for this mundane ritual of food and drink and talk. Sybil was the praise-singer in these gatherings, introducing those there by speaking of their lives and accomplishments – giving epithets of high praise, finding epithets for all, insisting on the dignity of everyone there. Her presence contained us, her generosity and kindness sustained us. There was not only pleasure, but at times joy in our being together. And joy is very rare.
And in light of this wonderful friendship with Sybil in these last couple of years, I’ve come to see the trajectory of my UD life differently. Within the headiness and flight of ideas and sometimes painful volatility of emotion, all along she has been there, with that quiet and accepting gaze. Her sanity holding people and things together. What is better than trusting in the wholeness of others, trusting that all will be well, as she has always done? A great blessing, to have her in our lives.