A blow to the heart of the campus community

A few years ago I wrote about my experience team-teaching a freshman seminar course with a colleague who taught physics--and taught me new ways to approach teaching literature. "As iron sharpens iron," I concluded, "so one teacher sharpens another--and in the end, we all win."

I was  a winner because I had a rare opportunity to teach alongside someone from outside my department, a colleague who was among the most brilliant and kind people I've ever encountered. Our students won the chance to engage with challenging course material under the guidance of a professor who always pushed them to think, and think deeply, about interesting ideas. And our community has been a winner all along as my colleague sang in the annual production of Handel's Messiah, volunteered at the school where his wife teaches, or led local youngsters in learning about the physics of space travel in summer space camp.

Today, though, we're all feeling a little lost. When you get one of those e-mails from the college president with the subject line "sad news," you expect to hear about the death of some ancient emeritus faculty member or former trustee. No one expects the sudden death of a 46-year-old scholar at the height of his career, with no apparent health problems and five children at home. Suddenly there's a Cavendish-shaped hole in our community that no one knows how to fill.

Scholar, teacher, singer, father, friend: Cavendish McKay was a good man who improved the lives of everyone around him, as iron sharpens iron. I don't know any higher praise than that. He will be missed.