Sylvia was an educator and leader who helped improve education through the use of computers in this country and throughout the world.  She served as Editor-in-Chief of T.H.E. Journal and  as a founding member of the board of the TLT Group (and in hundreds of other roles).  She provided advice whenever I asked, and sometimes when I didn’t.  She never tolerated any pretense, self-importance, or shallow thinking in herself or others.  She was insightful, tough-minded, and good-humored. 

Sylvia offered a unique perspective on education and technology based on many decades of advocacy and experience in teaching about and with computers.  She talked as she wrote:  clearly, and bluntly – often skewering a topic with a few sharp insights.  She was always looking for what was genuinely new and effective -- what could really help teachers with teaching and students with learning.  But she could see through the wild and unproven claims that often accompanied glittering new instructional computing options, and she didn’t hesitate to correct those who were misleading themselves or others.  She valued her own time and that of her respected colleagues in education too highly to tolerate imitation progress.

We often laughed together, even in the past few years when she had health problems and still intensely missed her husband who had died suddenly too many years ago.  Her frequent comments about Saul and what he meant to her and how much she missed him were a continuing lesson about the depth and staying power of love.

But as I think of her and the pleasure and value I gained from our times together, especially when we could share a meal, I remember her presence and vitality - and how she filled a room.  Sylvia never entered timidly;  she usually arrived loudly and humorously with an unforgettable scratchy voice and yet without a trace of arrogance or awareness of her own importance. 

Speaking of entering rooms, we often enjoyed reminding each other about our own “private dining room.”

Sylvia lived all her life in or near Philadelphia.  About a dozen years ago, when I was living in Princeton, New Jersey, we agreed to meet for lunch half-way between in Trenton, New Jersey – for another rambling conversation.  I had become a fan of the family-run Italian restaurants in the Chambersburg section of Trenton, and wanted to enjoy one of those meals with her.  So, I picked Sylvia up at the Trenton train station well before noon, drove into Chambersburg, and parked near several restaurants.  We walked by a few and selected one that looked like it might offer good food and a quiet place to talk. 

As we entered, we saw a few people relaxing together at a table in a dimly lit bar room which was otherwise empty.  Sylvia immediately began chatting with the people and asked for a menu, and we agreed this was just the place for our lunch.  We were shown into the adjoining dining room and seated at a pleasantly appointed table. 

We were happy to be early enough to have the spacious dining room all to ourselves.  We ordered and enjoyed a freshly almost-home-cooked Italian meal and a leisurely conversation that continued well into the afternoon.  When we finished and were preparing to leave, we finally noticed that we were still the only customers in the dining room.  We paid our very reasonable check, and Sylvia remarked to the cashier that we couldn’t understand why this restaurant was doing so little business when the food was so good and the prices so low.  He gently replied “Well, we’re not open today.”

The proprietor and I were a little embarrassed, but our discomfort vanished as Sylvia just laughed and made the situation into a joke we could all enjoy together.  No one had been able to resist seating and serving us in our “private dining room.”  No one had been able to resist Sylvia.  She filled that dining room – only a little more unusually and obviously than she filled many other spaces during her wonderful life.  Now we’ll have to work a little harder to fill the spaces she has left.  I miss her already.

"Sylvia Gorsky Charp, 84, leader in technology and education"
By Gayle Ronan Sims, The Philadelphia Inquirer
August 29, 2003