Vale

It is with sadness that I received an email just now announcing that one of my college professors, a man who brought humor--sometimes quite scatological, the grosser the better--to the study of the Roman Empire, has passed away after a brief illness. I took numerous courses with this Oxford-educated man, whose delightful Nottingham accent was so entrancing to my young Texan ears (once first asking if anyone spoke it, he said of Welsh "that it was an absolutely beastly language." Lambeth, I think he was the first Brit I had ever met. You would have really liked him.), but most importantly traveled with him to Tunisia, as part of a team of archaeologists, and excavated a Roman bathhouse in Carthage. My memories of that trip--at the dig site, at the team house especially at our large shared lunch around the big table on the porch, and traveling around the country most notably to Dougga where he gave us a tour of the "breadbasket of the Roman Empire"--as well as all of our classes and Classical Studies department activities, are permeated with thoughts of his pink cherubic face (maybe not an angel, but I thought of him as some kind of mischeivious elf because he was shorter than I am), white beard, easy laugh, entrancing tales both historical and modern, and wicked tongue.

Requiescat in pace, Magister.