One of my long-time colleagues, Robin Mookerjee, passed away on Tuesday. A great shock (he was only fifty-four), a great loss. A gifted scholar and writer, a dedicated teacher and even adminstrator, he was also the consummate college citizen, for students and colleagues alike. Always there, always there, with words wise and kind and yet always surprising and often funny. His words, which inevitably deepened and changed the conversation, were gently delivered, perfectly chosen. Always the fruit of reflection, his thoughts felt gathered. He took the time to gather them. Since I heard of his death I've felt myself waiting to hear insights I felt certain he was already gathering toward speech.
At a memorial today a poet colleague read one of Robin's poems:
Roundabout to tumbleweed to rose, yes. Robin, may you rest in peace.
At a memorial today a poet colleague read one of Robin's poems:
Roundabout to tumbleweed to rose, yes. Robin, may you rest in peace.
