an awful email

Midday in the States is my evening. Usually between 7-9pm my time, while I am busy with my Russian homework, all of UC is busy sending out emails. It makes a ping sound on the iPad and the laptop every time a message goes through. 3 emails within 2 minutes, gives off 6 pings, like rapid little menial gunfire. I have learned in the month or so, that they are not for me. Since I am away, most are not even useful. I know they are not in Russian or about Russian, so I  ignore them till the morning. Waking at 7am, I read that David Ball, the Classics librarian had died unexpectedly. He was not sick. I liked David very much.

There was never a conversation that did not begin with, "David how come, where or help me". Early in my first year at UC, I found out his sister had gone to NYU and I think I may have exploited that to my benefit. I made sure to ask how she was and what she was doing at the time. We talked about the city, Broadway, Columbo, and dreams about teeth. David was genuine and refreshingly transparent. Monday's David was the exact same person as Friday's. He never had a falling out with friends nor did he ever win people over. It was a consistency and constant that I envied and tried to emulate. It kept me honest to admit to needing help. "I don't know" is probably the most real thing I said and I got to say it all the time with David. I never even thought of not asking him for his help: which student had my book, what authors wrote about Julian, would he erase a particular fine.

I left Cincinnati owing David $2.50. He had paid the minimum of my fine for the Josephus book. Over $200 and a student loses her electronic access from abroad. David said I should pay him back when I return from Bulgaria. I told him I would and in addition, I would bring him back a gift evocative of Sofia. Ok, he said, but don't forget the $2.50. Since I have been here, I must have sent him a dozen emails, still demanding help from overseas. He continued to give help. David was the only UC faculty member that I gave my blog address to. Selfishly, I thought that was my gift to him as long as I was away continuing to seek assistance. He said he liked it but now I feel foolish.

I'm angry that he didn't allow me to pay back that money owed, or find an ideal gift so that he would know that I know him perfectly. And I'm heartbroken to think that I have to go back to Blegen and he not be there, to finish a dissertation without his guidance or his friendship. I will miss him so very much. I'm very sorry he's gone.