And Then There Were None

Photo: Brenda Kayzar

This blog is a labor of love—or perhaps just a by-product of a low-order mania. It's not something we do with an eye toward the riches and glory that will accrue from it. This is good, because to date we have failed to "monetize" this operation or even promote it in even the most cursory of ways. As a result, we have managed to accrue exactly one follower.

But what a follower he was: In his time, Roger was an urban geographer, motorcycle enthusiast, film nerd, Scandinavophile, animé lover, connoisseur of exotic liquors and coffee, recorder player, hippie, rogue, gastronome, medical disaster area, reader, enthusiast, critic, advisor, and friend. He changed my perception of life significantly simply by living his own life of professional and intellectual satisfaction, emotional richness, and fun.

One thing he was not was a baseball fan. He was, however, a passionate traveler. And when he died last Sunday, it was from injuries sustained in a crash on day 2 of what should have been a six-week round-the-country motorcycle tour. He had stayed with me and Watson the night before, and we'd spent it eating, drinking, and talking about books. (Among other things, he'd wanted to know if he should continue with Infinite Jest.) He left behind a partner, a son, and countless shocked and grieving colleagues, students, and friends.

Goodbye, Roger. You were following us here, but I was following you in many other ways. I'll think of you often along the many byways still to be explored.