Written on 7 November, just before David passed away.

Hi David, I have no idea what to write, I went for wine-fueled, over emotive stream of consciousness, like a shit William Burroughs’, who was already shit.

I am sorry that I cannot be there beside you. And I don¹t know how to sum up how much I love you in a few lines of an email. Since I arrived at MSU in 2005, you were like a father to me …. except much smarter and funnier. I remember hanging out for long hours with you at dive bars, chatting about history, religion, department gossip, Detroit politics, Mexican mother in laws and much more. I remember turning up in your ridiculously overburdened office to ask for a book or a thought or an insight on pretty much any topic in philosophy, religion, or world history (amazing the books didn’t get you like that heavy handed analogy in that EM Forster book). I should have dedicated my second book to you (although you deserve much much better!) because it was you that made me attempt to understand the warm comfort of religion and ritual – the heart in a heartless world.

I remember laughing uproariously over the the strange, selfish dynamics of department politics. I remember you were the person that actually made staff meetings worth turning up to, gently turning the room to your own will.

But most of all, I remember your kindness. I don’t think British people really recognize kindness as a virtue, especially those that go to weird public schools. Maybe Americans don’t either, but being Canadian I presume, you did. Looking back on my time at MSU, I realize that I could not have survived it (let alone enjoyed it) without you. During my first few years, you directed me through what was for me a mess of incomprehensible acronyms, new duties, and strange accents. When we became closer, you were always willing to listen to my petty worries and silly heartaches. You taught me to love teaching and love the students I taught. And when the real darkness came, you were always willing to offer your time, your advice, and your brilliant, somewhat askance, anecdotes. When my kids came along, you were always there with a bottle of wine and a ridiculously ornate cake or magnificent pie or ham. And, when your own kids came back, you always showed me how a real dad should behave. Finally, and this may seem odd coming from somebody with little to no dignity, but you taught me the value of dignity, an ability to remain true to yourself, your beliefs whatever was thrown at you. Like pornography, I now know it when I see it.

I can’t express how grateful I am to you. You were a mentor, a colleague, a friend, and a co-conspirator. You never came down to Mexico, but I always dream of pulling on a few Corona¹s in the zocalo while various Mexicans try to hug you and you looked embarrassed. I wish I was with you now if only to try and hug you and make you look equally embarrassed. For a good part of my life, you were second only to my wife and child, a wonderful, humane, kind, intelligent person that I am totally honored and grateful to have spent time with. I love you and am thinking of you.