In Remembrance: Celebrating Hayward R. Alker

Regarding Hayward R. Alker

2009-08-20T07:52:00.000-07:00

I learned of Prof. Alker's passing while looking for his contact information so I could belatedly thank him for his mentorship and kindness as a teacher, both while I was an undergraduate at MIT and afterwards. In lieu of that call left unmade I'll offer these memories of a very special scholar and man.

I was privileged to be in Hayward's undergraduate course on international conflict, "Just Wars, Total Wars and Nuclear Wars". For we students, Hayward's masterful synthesis of mathematical insight and sweeping historical perspective opened our eyes to the possibility of a more profound understanding of the affairs of nations. Moreover, Hayward was determined to afford us fair representation of a multiplicity of viewpoints, many of which were not his own. To do these alternative ideas justice he would bring in prominent guest lecturers with whom he'd engage in dialogue, drawing the students into the discussion. One time his guest was Daniel Ellsberg, and the lecture happened to take place shortly after the 1986 American airstrike against Libya. Ellsberg took a very dark view of Reagan's action and the attending collateral damage, and when Hayward began soliciting student comments I got up the nerve to suggest a defense of the attack, an argument informed by game theory Hayward had taught us and articulated in a tone which, regardless of where one stood on the issue, could be kindly described as cool. Ellsberg expressed considerable discomfort at so callow a mind embracing this stripe of realpolitik, and it was then that Hayward stepped in, looking up at me in the lecture hall and asking whether I was yet twenty years old. When I said I was not, Hayward remarked "You're leaving yourself no room here. You're young now - this is supposed to be a time of idealism, even naiveté. If you're this cynical today, what in the Lord's name will you be like when you're forty?" This brought down the house, and occasioned the first beginning of a dialogue with Hayward that I was fortunate enough to engage in for the rest of my time in Cambridge.

Of course Hayward was by no means naive, and could be very wry. In the mid-eighties the "Owl" school of thought was ascendant, and when I spoke to him admiringly of this line of thinking he pointed out that this approach's utility to its adherents might extend beyond intellectual substance. To illustrate, he strode to the right side of a very large blackboard, wrote "HAWKS" above his head, and, just below, "(Nuts!)". He then walked across to the left hand side of the board and wrote "DOVES" , and, below again, "(Wimps!)". He then hopped to the midpoint, wrote "OWLS" and "(Sane! Reasonable! Confirmable!)" above himself with an arrow pointing down, under which he the stood making a thumbs-up sign and exclaiming: "Acceptable on a bipartisan basis and available for the staff or Cabinet position of your choice, Mr. President!"

Hayward was generous enough with his time to dine with me on a few occasions, as well as put up with my endless questions during his very flexible office hours. He managed to convince a very skeptical physics major that mathematics applied to human affairs need not be a soulless enterprise. Indeed I never saw Hayward analyze a problem without remembering the humanity behind the equations. He would often attribute this trait to his Quaker background and perhaps this is so, but I suspect his was a rare spirit among any tribe or creed. When some time after MIT I struggled with the question of continuing my graduate work in physics or pursuing a doctorate in a social science, it was to Hayward that I turned for counsel, and his advice and empathy were both a decisive influence and a great reassurance.

Today I'm an economist, and around the age of cynicism Hayward warned me about. Once in a while I get a chance to speak truth to power. Whenever I do I think of what a wise and very decent man taught, and try never to let calculation become an excuse for callousness. I'm sorry I never really thanked you, Hayward. You will be missed.

Jeffrey J. Trester

Memories of a Very Special Mentor

2008-03-01T08:26:00.000-08:00

When I first came to MIT for graduate studies, Hayward hired to help “clean” the FACS dataset. I was initially surprised that the case codings were drawn from multiple sources, written by scholars from both the US and abroad. I came to realize that this openness to other perspectives was the hallmark of Hayward’s approach to scholarship.

I enjoyed working as Hayward’s assistant, but he was not initially the chair of my dissertation committee, though he was a member. After about a year of researching a rather pedestrian project – and thoroughly falsifying my core hypothesis – I stumbled across something intriguing. As I researched agricultural trade disputes, I found that different narratives of what was ostensibly the same case told different versions of what had happened, what was happening and what ought to be happening. I thought that the differences in how the parties to a dispute understood what was, what is, and what ought to be would provide the framework for my dissertation.

One of the most important and memorable days of my life was when I sat before my dissertation committee and told them of the new direction my dissertation was taking. Hayward turned to his colleague and said simply, “I think I should supervise this.” That is when I knew that I was on the right track. Having Hayward as my dissertation advisor was infinitely valuable for me. He read my work with extreme care and often seemed to understand more about what I had written than I did. He saw possibilities and insights that I had not yet discovered. He didn’t want to let go of a dissertation until its richness had been fully mined. He was my advocate, pushing me to greater depth of understanding.

And then there was the personal side of Hayward, the caring, considerate person who delighted in his students successes, but who worried about the student who was hospitalized or the one who might be lonely. He was a person who knew joy from his family, and we, his students, knew that from the way he spoke so warmly of Ann and of his daughters and their families.

I will always remember Hayward as the paradigmatic mentor: the scholar-teacher who cares about his students as people, trains them to be independent thinkers, lives his life with a sense of wonder, and dedicates himself to the cause of justice. He taught me in the classroom, through supervising my dissertation, by continuing to mentor me until his too early death, but most of all, just by providing the example of his own, well-lived life. I feel very privileged to be an Alker student, a member of a very special club. I know that with this privilege comes the responsibility of trying to approximate the kind of mentor he was, a daunting task, but an important one. I miss his infectious enthusiasm, his boundless curiosity, and his kindness.

Although it’s impossible to give a complete list, here are . . .

A Few of the Lessons I Learned From Hayward

Statistical significance does not equal truth.
Language matters. Words are data.
Dialog requires listening as well as speaking.
Time is too precious to waste it cleaning your desk.
Partial world orders are overlapping and inter-penetrating, and that’s a good thing.
Seek balance in your life and take time to sing.
Love your family.
Care about your students.
Be heterodox.
Normal behavioral social science is boring.
Being neatly dressed is optional.
Get excited about interesting ideas.
A quickly moving index finger makes an excellent exclamation point
Publicize the work of people who have insightful things to say.
Read widely.
Forgive your research assistants when they make mistakes, even if the mistakes cost real money or time.
Transgress disciplinary boundaries.
Don’t hide your light under a bushel basket.
Seek wisdom from other cultures.
It’s OK for your footnotes to have footnotes.
Travel.
Help younger scholars even if they aren’t “officially” your students.
Be generous with your time when asked to write letters of recommendation or tenure reviews.
Support political causes you believe in.
Be charitable – in all senses of the word.
Not only is it impossible for social science to be value-neutral, it is an ethical imperative to seek moral ends with one’s research.
No matter how much you wave and flap your arms around in class, you won’t become airborne.

Renée Marlin-Bennett

In the Fond Memory of Hayward Rose Alker

2008-01-21T14:03:00.000-08:00

August 27, 2007

Dear Hayward,

I have received the sad news about your passing, but yet part of me cannot believe nor accept it. You were always so full of life and had enough energy to fuel any project you might desire. I cannot imagine anyone more dedicated to life, professionally and personally. I feel so thankful to you, for giving me a small part of it, as your assistant, student and friend.

Your professional enthusiasm was built on knowledge and respect, but also on humanism. You had a wholeness about you, that most people don't ever achieve in the span a lifetime. Your scholarly journey went from working on econometrics at MIT to hermeneutics at USC. You had strong epistemological preferences, but always respected those that thought of the world differently. As opposed to most scholars, you understood people who looked at the world through lenses different than your own. Whereas most scholars stay true to the epistemological traditions that they were formed, you never stopped evolving. I believe that your genuine interest in the practical implications of theory and research fueled your hunger for knowledge and the constant evolving of your ideas. Rather than condemning people you disagreed with, you tried to understand and engage in a dialogue with them. You were building bridges

As much as your professional achievements were impressive, was your humanism beautiful. You cared about your family, friends and students. You were surrounded with people that loved you and you always spoke with such warmth and fondness about your family, especially of your wife, daughters and grandkids. If anyone needed a hand, you were the first to reach out with an extraordinary willingness to share and genuine interest in helping. You didn't ask anything in return and always gave people the benefit of doubt.

For me you have been instrumental in the shaping and maturing of my own scholarly foundation. I came to USC to work with you 11 years ago, knowing that there were many gaps to fill in my education. I laugh now, remembering how intimidated I was by the way you expressed yourself and by your eminent intellect. I am not intimidated any more. Rather, I remember with fondness how you would sparkle, expressing excitement over your work and interests in ways that most of us outgrow. You taught me that stories can be written in many languages, that realities have many truths, pointed to the issues never raised and to connections never drawn.

I could never have asked for a better advisor than you and I will miss you dearly. You and Ann have always cared about your students and involved yourselves in their lives like nobody else. You would call me early in the morning about an idea for my dissertation and you would always find time to see me when I needed it, even if it meant opening your home during your free time or taking 2 hours of your busy day to discuss my work. You would always emphasize how busy you were, but carve out time for me regardless.

There is a void in the world and there is a void in my heart. Your journey is over, but I wish you could see how many of us are carrying your memory and legacy with us. I will always be an Alker student

With sadness, thankfulness, pride and respect

Anita Schjølset

2008-01-18T17:18:00.000-08:00

Dr. Alker is a mentor who continues to impact my life on a professional, musical and personal level even after his passing. The last time we spoke was this past summer when I was headed off to Korea for the summer on the Critical Language Scholarship Program. Without fail, Dr. Alker is one of the first people that comes to mind when my favorite season comes around - summer - because of our common bond with the arts.

The first close interaction I had with Dr. Alker was during my first days in the Honors Thesis Seminar, which he led in Dr. Odell's absence in 2003. I was one of six SIR students who were fortunate enough to have Dr. Alker's mentorship for the Honors Program during the one season which he was in charge of it. At first, I, like many other SIR students, were intimidated by Dr. Alker and even considered dropping out of the Honors Program because I my grasp of my research methodology paled to that of my colleagues.

However, I had one conversation with Dr. Alker that changed my entire outlook toward life. During his office hours, I determinedly sought Dr. Alker's guidance on my research topic and ended up telling him that often times I felt my decision to pursue IR over clarinet studies was foolish because it seemed as though I hit a plateau in my growth in both areas. As strange as I thought it was going to be, Dr. Alker completely understood what I meant and told me that he turned to singing in chorus to mentally recharge every summer at the Block Island Conservatory.

After that conversation, my passion for foreign affairs and music alike was rejuvenated and I stuck with the Honors Program until the very end. With the blessing of Dr. Alker and Dr. Tickner, our seminar participated in the Undergraduate Research Symposium and published our theses as individual chapters in a book he authored. From these experiences, I spent time with a great man who I respected more and more as a leading IR theorist, fine instructor and musician as well.

When I learned of Dr. Alker's passing, I was at a complete loss for words. I wondered if he made it back to Block Island Conservatory before he passed and was happy to learn that he did. My heartfelt memories at SIR will always link back to Dr. Alker, my mentor who inspired me never to force myself to embrace the challenges in life, whether they may be in foreign affairs, music or personal struggles. For that, I will forever be inspired and blessed.

- Brandon Marc Higa -

EULOGY FOR HAYWARD

2007-10-24T17:22:00.000-07:00

I last saw Prof. Alker (I could never call him by his first name) a few months before he was to leave to sing in Italy with his chorale. I had gone to Santa Monica to have lunch with Ann and had driven her back home after that. I had meant to drop her off and quickly leave, when Hayward high jacked me at their doorstep to talk about their upcoming trip. As he described how he was going to sing in San Marco’s Cathedral in Venice, his eyes glimmered with excitement. I remember telling Ann he sounded like a child, full of awe and amazement for life and beauty. I also remember thinking I would like to invite his chorale to sing at my church.

When I went to his memorial at USC, a colleague described him as bouncing off the walls with excitement when sharing the news of an award that I had won at the ISA meeting in 2007. And I remember that he and Ann had called me from their cell phone to give me the news. At the time, Ann was president of the ISA, so as soon as she gave me the news, off she had to be to another meeting. So Hayward stayed on the phone and gave me an account of what had happened at the FTGS meeting where my award was announced.

He was so concerned that Ann herself should be able to personally hand me the award certificate and the check that he practically snatched them away from a friend who had offered to accept the award on my behalf. He was happy and proud of me as a student of Ann’s. He cared for Ann’s students as for his own; he felt committed to us as he was to his own students. And committed he was! In the midst of a difficult year that had forced me to temporarily abandon my dissertation to fight a battle against cancer, he knew that award would tell me what he had told me many times before: that I had some worth as a scholar, that I had to fight the battle and get back to work, that I had something important to say. And he felt that reminding a student of her own worth was important and exciting.

When I learned about his death, I remember thinking I had lost the opportunity to hear him sing with his chorale. I remember thinking I would never hear his voice. At his memorial at USC, as I listened to student after student mourning their loss but also celebrating what he had meant to them, I realized I had been wrong. His song remains with us. All we have to do is join him in his singing. We might not have his tenor voice, but he taught us that what we have is both good enough and worth the work it takes to make it better.

- Catia Confortini -

How did Hayward Alker influence you?

2007-10-08T06:52:00.000-07:00

Please share your personal memories honoring him by using the comments option. Thank you.

His inspiration will live on

2007-10-03T17:48:00.000-07:00

Hayward was a force of nature, something well known those of us who were lucky enough to get within range of his whirling dervish intellect, passions, and heart. Only after he's gone do I realize how much I always expected him to be around -- that even when I hadn't seen him for a long while, his mere existence had become an inspirational anchor for me.

I first experienced Prof. Alker in the classroom, while taking his signature graduate international security studies course. From day one, there were some there who were put off -- and admitted to being lost -- by the rapid fire delivery, intense focus, voluminous (often unfamiliar) interdisciplinary references, and exquisitely four-dimensional reasoning. By no means can I claim to have followed more than a percentage of what he threw at us (I don't believe I know of anyone who ever could keep up entirely -- including most of his professional peers, from what I could tell), but I walked out of most of those first and subsequent sessions exhilarated, inspired, and, like everyone else to varying degrees, wishing that I had the replay tape available to go back to slowly recover what I'd missed the first time. Hayward challenged us to try to keep up, and he didn't suffer fools gladly at times, but if you rose to said challenge you were treated to some of the most interesting, provocative thinking you'd ever heard in your life.

Along those lines, he gave me (us) permission to aggressively, joyfully integrate not only multiple methods, fields and fresh approaches, but to do it all with a guilt-free (though disciplined) sense of justice and emotional acknowledgment. He never lost track of one of the central purposes of academia -- the hope of making a difference in the world -- and he had refreshingly little patience for artificial intellectual or disciplinary boundaries.

I will always be grateful that he helped sustain me, as only a very few could do, in my long dissertation slog. I took on a then-fairly unconventional combination of subject areas for my IR thesis, but whenever I would check in with him he would reaffirm, by his shear excitement and encouragement of the broad, complicated topic the value of what I was trying to do. I always left his office with a surge of confidence and excitement, and a raft of relevant questions to ponder.

The bottom line was this: He "got" me, and I'd like to think that to some extent I got him. So, even though I still cannot fully fathom that he is no longer with us physically (and quite frankly resent the hell out of it), he will be with me for the rest of my life, urging me to stand up for what's just and what's possible, and to challenge conventional thinking -- academic or otherwise. As I have for years now, I will continue to think of Hayward when I need a little (or a lot) extra courage to defend an idea or position that doesn't fit the standard mold, because he helped teach me, and many of us willing to stand the heat in the kitchen, to try to think broadly, in multi-dimensional, non-linear ways, with both passion and compassion.

Quotes from the IR Rumor Mill Blog

2007-10-01T10:25:00.000-07:00

Outside Mentor Appreciation Thread
Which professor outside of your department, not on your Ph.D. committee, not a former mentor at the undergraduate level has been most helpful in your research? How?

Anonymous said...
Hayward Alker was great to me, though I was not one of his (many) students.You are missed.

Anonymous said...
Ditto Hayward Alker from above. He wasn't a mentor of my own but he was always willing to help any grad student who wanted his advice, and in general he deeply cared about both grad and undergrad students. Exactly the sort of kindly, eccentric, brilliant but not exactly coherent type people like to imagine universities are full of.

In Gratitude

2007-09-27T12:22:00.000-07:00

Hayward Alker has long been and remains a titanic figure in my psyche. His physical passage from this world alters that status not one bit. His passing does, however, take from humanity one of its more avid allies and proponents.

Calling Hayward enthusiastic about his discipline, and about perpetually learning and teaching that discipline, is by now well-worn cliche. Yet it must be repeated and again: Hayward was enthusiastic, so enthusiastic that his body would actually vibrate with excitement, so enthusiastic that the very space around him was affected and the people therein could not only see and hear, but feel his enthusiasm. The man was quite literally animated by what he knew and by what he wanted to share. And, yes, the corollary cliche is that his enthusiasm was often contagious.

More than anyone in my experience, Hayward Alker taught me how little I knew. For the intellectually honest, this may be the greatest learning. Yet more than merely casting some light on a vast darkness, Hayward pointed and prodded me toward means of discovery and insight. Yes, he taught me scads about international relations and social science, but his more precious gift came through a fairly relentless endeavor to teach all of us how to learn, how to investigate, how to attain and arrange scholarly knowledge so as to push back firmly against the constraints of human ignorance. This pushing back may be the root of all hope and of all progress. What more could be asked of a teacher and of a mentor?

The man himself can be missed, but the spirit is right here with me. I’m eternally grateful.

K. Alan Kronstadt

In loving memory

2007-09-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

Hayward Alker was my mentor. He had a sparkle in his eyes. He was always excited about new ideas. At the ISA he would run from one panel to the next to hear a new paper that he thought sounded “so interesting!” You could not stop him if you tried. So many years into being a scholar and still loved it as it was his first.

He was a dedicated man and would always find time in his very busy schedule to meet with you, his graduate students. I was his Thursday 4.00 o’clock appointment. He would meet me every week for at least two hours to discuss my, or better, our project. He would seat quietly on his chair with his eyes closed listening at what I had to say and all of the sudden unexpectedly jump from the chair, his eyes sparkling again. He would verbally inundate you with his excitement and his suggestions on what you should do and what you should read. And you would walk out of his office with a thousand new ideas and a pile of “fascinating” books to read. As he was done with you his mind was already miles away on to only God knows what. He was constantly working on the next project.

He was not only a brilliant mentor he was also a fatherly figure. When you had your doubts and insecurities he would listen. And as you struggled to bear with your at times overwhelming project, he was the one to ask you “what’s wrong? Aren’t you excited of what you have accomplished so far?” He was always reassuring.

I am still working on our project, Hayward. I have your comments, your capital letter comments that speak just like you and will keep guiding me in this project and the next, and the next. You are and will be with me. You taught me to be a serious scholar to be scrupulous and to be generous. The only way I can think of thanking you for all you did for me is to be a good scholar just as you wanted me to be. You believed in me and invested in me. I won’t let you down.

Thank you, Hayward.

Serena Simoni

If I only had words

2007-09-18T11:46:00.000-07:00

There is so much of my career and my life that I owe to Hayward Alker. I can think of all of that, though, and the first thing that occurs to me to write is that, in the years that I knew him, I never saw Hayward not smiling. I gave him reason, often - but I never saw him give in to the temptation to frown, if he ever had it.

When I met Hayward, he was the graduate program director at USC, where I was a first year graduate student (too young to be there) with no idea why I'd gone to graduate school. Hayward's enthusiasm challenged me; his knowledge motivated me; the breadth of his interests inspired the breadth of mine. I always knew (whether he was telling me that I could not do something I wanted to, or forcing me to do something I did not want to) that Hayward was on my side.

In the fall of 2002, I started a (short-lived) graduate student tennis club in the school of international relations at USC. Hayward was the most faithful attendee and far and away the best tennis player. We would have lunches afterwards at the sports dining hall, and talk of everything from geography to football. Hayward and I shared a lot: a love for Negro Modelo (its a beer), a tendency to have long, drawn-out but always interesting conversations, a keen sense of strategy about professional life ... but we also had many lively debates, which were often much more interesting than the agreements.

Like Abbi remembers, Hayward was always encouraging me to do things that would be good for my education and my career. Hayward personally sponsored my attendance at the Institute for Qualitative Research Methods, which was a key step in focusing my dissertation research. He suggested that I refine my dissertation topic in a way that made it ultimately both doable and publishable (that went well), and suggested that I submit part of it to APSR (that did not go well, but I now realize the pedagogical strategy behind it).

Several years out of grad school, Hayward still sent me links, contacts, suggestions, and articles whenever he saw something that I just might be interested in. In fact, I had an email from him sitting in my inbox, a few days old, unanswered, when he died ... which I regret deeply.

I will miss Hayward because the world was a little bit better place for the rest of us knowing he was in it: brilliant, successful, happy, and always enthusiastic. I will miss Hayward because my world was better knowing he was in it: Hayward stretched me to my intellectual limits, as a member of my dissertation committee, an advisor, a mentor, and a friend.

When I told Hayward I wanted to go to law school after only a short time in the program at USC, he was uncertain I would finish my Ph.D. (much less finish it well), and resistant to the idea. I told him that I needed him to write me a letter of recommendation. This was about a week after I had defended my dissertation prospectus, in early September. Hayward was not particularly interested, and told me that he would, if he saw a full draft of my dissertation before the mid-October deadline. He knew and I knew that this meant "no, I will not write you a letter of recommendation for this disasterous decision." I went home, did not come back for a month, and wrote 450 pages of the first draft of my dissertation. I put it on his desk and asked for my letter of recommendation. Hayward, to his credit, was a man of his word, and wrote the letter. Also to his credit, however, Hayward was right and I was wrong: though I did get a law degree, finish grad school, and pursue my career - I spent the full three years in law school wondering why I had not just listened to Hayward and not gone.

I addition to being challenging, Hayward was enthusiastic and inspiring. My first year in graduate school, I took an "Advanced IR theory" course with Hayward. Nick Onuf sat in on the class, then there were four senior male graduate students, and me. Though I am sure a few years later I would have been capable of engaging in the course's banter, I was very much over my head. There are two days that I remember like they were yesterday, though. The class met on Wednesday morning at 9:00. The first morning answers the question "where were you" during the 9/11 attacks? I was in Dr. Alker's class, not even knowing they had happened, because I had just moved to LA (didn't yet have TV and radio) and was terrified about the presentation that I had to give that day. I don't know why I felt compelled to share that part - perhaps, because, as I keep writing, I realize how few memories I have of my graduate and professional life that don't include Hayward Alker. Anyway, why I wrote about the class is the second day I remember vividly, which I aspire to match someday. Hayward came in right as class was about to start - with socks that didn't match, his shoes untied, and his shirt unevenly buttoned. He started talking immediately about having discovered that java programming could be an important language in understanding complex systems in international relations - and had been so engulfed in though since this realization that, literally, he overlooked getting fully dressed. Someday, I will have a thought that inspiring and interesting; one that takes on a life of its own; the sort that Hayward had on a daily basis.

Hayward protected me when I had trouble in grad school. He introduced me to people who would become important in my career. He corrected me when I was wrong, and let me decide my own path when I was determined. He praised, critiqued, fixed, and promoted my work - and my life - on a number of occasions. If you looked up the meaning of support in my dictionary, it would be Hayward - who was key in both inspiring my dreams and making them a reality.

The world will be a sadder place for the loss of Hayward; my world, much more so. I've never known someone so full of life ... and will therefore know few if any more tragic deaths. A lesson I take from knowing Hayward is that there's no replacement for energy and enthusiasm - and no time to waste forgetting their value.

Laura Sjoberg

Irreplaceable mentor

2007-09-18T07:20:00.000-07:00

One of my memories which stands out as classically typical of Dr. Alker took place my first year as a graduate student at USC. I was still learning the ropes at a new institution, and trying to not be overwhelmed by the huge workload of a graduate schedule. The workshop seemed perfect for my interest in conflict resolution, but I was worried about taking the time away from coursework to drive away for the weekend, and concerned about how to get the funding to attend. Dr. Alker was adamant that I should pursue the opportunity. He convinced me that it would be worth attending and that I had what it took to go, and he offered to pay the workshop fees from his personal bank account so that both me and two other students (CatiaConfortini and Christina Faegri) could attend. He followed through with this promise for those of us who needed it and made sure that all three of us could participate.

I had never seen a professor take such personal action to support a student before, and I am still amazed by the way that he always backed his students in such concrete ways. This was just one example of Dr. Alker's unswerving and unlimited commitment to his students. He never let me be overcome, whether by my own lack of courage, or by anything else, financial or otherwise, if he could help it. He was always available to his students, whether that meant talking us through problems in his office, making his home available to us to discuss dissertation issues over tea, or paying for us personally to attend key events, like the Galtung workshop.

Dr. Alker was a huge scholarly resource to me in my dissertation progress, providing a fountain of knowledge that was sometimes overwhelming to process. But more than that, he was someone whose care and commitment to me was unlike any I had known before I met him. He is someone I will truly miss and never forget.

Hayward Alker:

Delights in living
Gives two hundred percent to
Each gifted moment

Infectious passion
His face lights up and kindles
New questions and joy

Generous spirit
No public / private border
Curbs his care for students

Mentor with endless
Interests, care, and commitment
Irreplaceable

-- Abbi Ruane --