RIP, Old Spice

I found out very recently that my first undergrad advisor and the leader of my study abroad program in the Middle East died a little over a week ago.

I won’t pretend we were exceptionally close, but Dr. Grubb nonetheless had a substantial influence on me. Not only was he the leader of what ended up being one of the most foundational experiences of my life, but it was he who (for better or worse) was largely responsible for my decision to go to grad school. Plus, he and his lovely wife taught me how to play bridge, a lesson which will reap great dividends when I enter a retirement community someday.

Flipping through my TIME (Term in the Middle East) photo album, I dug up a few old memories of our fearless leader. First, for someone who had led numerous trips to the Middle East and elsewhere, he had a shockingly poor grasp of foreign languages. He was no more able to pronounce “tesekur ederim” [“thank you” in Turkish] than the rest of us. We, of course, thought this highly entertaining.

And I had forgotten about this, but there was this obnoxious environmental conference taking place for several days in our Istanbul dormitory [hilariously, the group was called VOICES: Vision Of an International Charter on the Environment by Students]. I remember my appreciation for the Grubb-ster increasing exponentially the day he walked out to their chanting group and asked, “Do you have a policy on noise pollution?”

So hat’s off to you, Dr. Grubb. Yes, we may have made a bit of fun of your physics-defying belly. And, yes, you had a tendency to call me “Trevor.” But I know we all respected you. You made an impact, and you will be remembered.