Dear Professor…

Dear Professor Brucher,

I hope this email finds you well and resting. I just heard about your passing last month and wanted to drop a quick note to say a few things about the time I knew you at the University of Maine.

I don’t know how they assign Academic Advisors, but I lucked out getting you. When my roommate, who was the most prepared person ever, told me she read somewhere that it was important to introduce yourself to your advisor right away, I sent you an email, and you told me to come on by. So, over to Neville Hall I went.

Who knows what your first impression of me was, but you were immediately helpful. You walked me down to Ellen at the front desk of the English Department office and let her know I was looking for a work-study position. All four years at UMaine I was fortunate to work, in varying capacities, in the English Department, and you absolutely hooked me up with that. I’m not sure I ever mentioned just how grateful I was and am for that. Ellen, Celeste, all the professors who I helped with administrative tasks or got to TA for—they were delightful to be around, and it was the perfect gig.

Every semester, when it came time to meet about picking classes and making sure I was still on-track to graduate, you were never surprised by how organized I was about the schedule I’d mapped out nor did you have concerns about my academic achievement. We’d spend maybe ten minutes talking academics, and then the rest of the time digressed into Black Bear hockey. You know I appreciated so much how you gave me your season tickets that one time so I could take my sister to a game, but I’m saying it again. She and I caught a winner that night, and it was a fantastic time.

One of your seminars my fourth year was titled Plays of the Cold War Era, and it had two things going for me: 1. It sounded interesting and 2. I’d yet to have the chance to take a class with you. That was a restless, distracted time for me because all I wanted to do was work on my Honors thesis—in fact, the semester before I told you I just wanted to be writing my book, and I remember you looked distinctly amused as I low-key ranted about how all my other classes were just detracting from time I could be spending writing—but I genuinely enjoyed your course. Up to then, I’d dissected and discussed plenty of prose and poetry, but that was my first time digging into drama. And what an interesting period of plays to be examining. 

What really stands out from my fourth year, though, was how you showed up to my Thesis Defense. 

The afternoon before my defense, I was running some errands with my mom, who’d flown in for it, and she asked, “Did you invite Professor Brucher?” And I said, “No, I didn’t think about it. I didn’t think he’d be interested.” Because, you know, most young writers are self-conscious about their work, aren’t sure anyone will find it as compelling as they do. Still, mom encouraged me to invite you, so I quick sent you an email with the details and my Artist’s Statement included. You responded with a simple, Great, thanks for letting me know. I wasn’t sure if that was an acceptance or just acknowledgement.

And then, the next afternoon, you showed up. With a last-minute invite on a beautiful spring day, you sat through my defense and met my mom and told me I’d done well. It meant the world to me.

I never told you this because it would’ve been strange, but I always quietly thought of you—and still do—as my UMaine Grandpa. You were that old fella with the walrus mustache up on the fourth floor of Neville who offered me advice and kindness, an anchor to the chaos and busyness of the semester. I knew I’d see you around the English Department office getting coffee or your mail just as I knew there’d be at least one good meeting where we took a look at my progress and plans. I was beyond grateful your retirement lined up with when I graduated; I wouldn’t have wanted any other advisor. I’m sure your 45 years of teaching at UMaine are filled with countless other students who felt as supported by you and enriched by your teaching.

This is getting rather wordy, I know, so I’ll wrap up now. I just wanted to say thank you, one last time. You were an important part of this Black Bear’s college experience, and I feel so fortunate to have been an undergrad during your tenure.

With warm regards from your advisee,

Catherine