I was inexpressibly saddened to read about the passing of Marvin Bressler (Notebook, Sept. 22). Somehow, this prominent professor always managed to find time for a scared girl from the sticks. He was kind, brilliant, thoughtful, on to himself (“excuse the pomposity”), and extremely funny.
Shortly before I graduated, a friend and I stopped by his office to say goodbye. We ended up in another of the long, rambling conversations I had grown to treasure. Finally, he opened a file drawer and pulled out a glossy photo of a handsome, curly-haired youth –– himself, as it turned out. Without a trace of regret, he noted: “I was a scourge.” That he was.
I was inexpressibly saddened to read about the passing of Marvin Bressler (Notebook, Sept. 22). Somehow, this prominent professor always managed to find time for a scared girl from the sticks. He was kind, brilliant, thoughtful, on to himself (“excuse the pomposity”), and extremely funny.
Shortly before I graduated, a friend and I stopped by his office to say goodbye. We ended up in another of the long, rambling conversations I had grown to treasure. Finally, he opened a file drawer and pulled out a glossy photo of a handsome, curly-haired youth –– himself, as it turned out. Without a trace of regret, he noted: “I was a scourge.” That he was.