Bredbeck

David called me this morning to tell me that one of our faculty members had died last night, at the age of 44. His name was Greg Bredbeck and he was notorious with the student body. I was pretty stunned, since he's been such a fixture in our department my entire undergrad and grad time there, and (it is my understanding) that he was doing queer theory before it was awesome/vogue to do so....

David had started taking an Oscar Wilde class from him this term, but was hesitant about it because of Bredbeck's reputation for being awful to students (though I know many people for whom that was not the case). However, he absolutely loved Bredbeck's fiestiness and loved the topic, so stayed on in the class. Suddenly, Bredbeck was replaced by another professor, due to the former's need for a medical leave.

He was very very private, so not many people knew 1. that he was sick, or 2. if they knew, they didn't know how sick. There are many speculations as to why he died/what he died from, but since he didn't want people to know while he was alive, it seems disrespectful to try to delve too much or talk about the why's and how's now....

He had no next of kin, no partner and I can't help but wonder (as chatter flew around the department after, later in the day, the department sent out an official notice, about how terrible it must be to die alone) if dying alone is exactly what he wanted. To what extent, in these times, when we feel awful and freaked out *for* him and his manner of death, do we actually project our own fears onto that person. I'm afraid of dying alone, therefore, he must have been, too. But maybe it's exactly as he needed it to be and he died peacefully and without regret.

I think I prefer to think of it that way, for his sake and mine.

The last time I saw him, I was sitting out in front of Hinderaker, eating a turkey sandwich. This really cute dog came up to me and I broke off part of my sandwich to feed it to the dog. Suddenly, I see Bredbeck charge up and (knowing his reputation as a curmudgeon) I thought: "Oh shit! He's pissed I'm feeding his dog human food!" Rather, he came up, sat down and started chatting with me about his dog and how nice it was that I was feeding it. I remember being distinctly surprised at how cordial he was. I'm glad this was my last (and lasting) impression of him.