In our lives it is so very rare that someone we meet changes our way of thinking for the better. David Bailey had that impact on me. I first met him in an American intellectual history course in the winter of 2009. The insights he offered and the intellectual challenges he presented to our class created one of the most rewarding, most positive learning experiences I had at Michigan State. His lectures were not simply about history, they were about how to live in a historical moment with the weight of history behind oneself. He was the sort of intellectual who could walk into class five minutes late and craft a brilliant lecture from memory.

I had the privilege of working with David that summer in Oxford. The guidance, the humanity, the warmth he offered me while I researched the British Coal Miners’ strike in 1984 gave me an invaluable first experience in real historical research. I still have not yet fully realized the value of my experience that summer, and I have David Bailey to thank for that. Without his support I would not have gone on the trip, without his belief in me I would not have embarked upon my chosen project, and without his insights I would not have matured enough to understand that history is really an attempt to understand human experiences in the midst of chaos.

David deeply impressed me with his down to earth sensibility. I remember him beginning class before MSU’s men’s basketball team played in the Final Four in Detroit in 2009 by encouraging us to embrace the moment. His perspective on life always pleasantly surprised me.

I met David at a difficult time in my life when I was quite lost. He encouraged me to pursue graduate studies in history at a time when I had no clue what to do with myself. His belief in me and his gentle understanding of my overly ambitious and naïve understanding of social history tempered my impulses to stumble around history. His guidance gave me the opportunity to achieve something I likely never would have, earning a Master’s degree in history.

I will always remember with great fondness the creaking floors leading to David’s corner office, the desk overwhelmed with books and papers, the worn leather chair in which he tapped away at his computer with endless energy. Like Morrill Hall, I will not have the privilege of seeing such things again, but then I think that David always lived in ideas, in the ether where our hopes and imaginations and dreams exist. In that way he will always be part of our lives.