This makes me sad, more than other recently seen obituaries, but I can't picture an image of him without his smile that could stretch his whole face up and back. I'll always remember him as his mirthful and investigative mind.
I think my first interaction with him best describes the influence he had on me as an educator, adviser and scientist. I hadn't met him yet, I was in his office because I noticed a few of my fellow Comp. Sci. undergrads there, just chatting as we do. I didn't even know whose office it was, at that point, now that I think about it.
In he walks with one of those wall-mounted soap dispensers that I recognized from the gym locker rooms. He sits down and starts fishing out screws from it, all while jumping right into our conversation without missing a beat. At my first chance, I ask him what he's doing, I was a little confused but my curiosity was clearly something he had an appetite for. He starts describing his investigation of which screws to replace. You see, the things kept falling down because something in the soap was causing the coating or material of the screws to disintegrate. I think I inquired about why he had to do it, or maybe the question was written on my face, because I also remember he was not obligated to, just that kind of person to see an open question as an opportunity for experiment.
Twenty-plus years later, and many many experiments of my own, I still remember this interaction. Here he was describing a very practical approach (rather than hit the books on the components in the soap and what *-oxide coatings were added or developing on the screws, just throw the experiment together -- its answer will be as good or better). He was affable and delighted to share knowledge, and he didn't exude any of the pretentiousness that you might expect from someone whose walls were covered (literally, to the ceiling) with framed copies of his patents and awards. He was still actively going to the gym even at his clearly advanced age (even 20 years ago, I think he was already emeritus, and he played racquetball at least weekly). I learned what a convolution was just from looking at what he'd done. All this and he managed to inspire without personifying it.
I think my first interaction with him best describes the influence he had on me as an educator, adviser and scientist. I hadn't met him yet, I was in his office because I noticed a few of my fellow Comp. Sci. undergrads there, just chatting as we do. I didn't even know whose office it was, at that point, now that I think about it.
In he walks with one of those wall-mounted soap dispensers that I recognized from the gym locker rooms. He sits down and starts fishing out screws from it, all while jumping right into our conversation without missing a beat. At my first chance, I ask him what he's doing, I was a little confused but my curiosity was clearly something he had an appetite for. He starts describing his investigation of which screws to replace. You see, the things kept falling down because something in the soap was causing the coating or material of the screws to disintegrate. I think I inquired about why he had to do it, or maybe the question was written on my face, because I also remember he was not obligated to, just that kind of person to see an open question as an opportunity for experiment.
Twenty-plus years later, and many many experiments of my own, I still remember this interaction. Here he was describing a very practical approach (rather than hit the books on the components in the soap and what *-oxide coatings were added or developing on the screws, just throw the experiment together -- its answer will be as good or better). He was affable and delighted to share knowledge, and he didn't exude any of the pretentiousness that you might expect from someone whose walls were covered (literally, to the ceiling) with framed copies of his patents and awards. He was still actively going to the gym even at his clearly advanced age (even 20 years ago, I think he was already emeritus, and he played racquetball at least weekly). I learned what a convolution was just from looking at what he'd done. All this and he managed to inspire without personifying it.
RIP Dr. Donald Bitzer