This past spring I re-established communications with Reinhard after a lapse of over 15 years.  A few months ago I decided to return to doing research on meiofauna.  Reinhard first introduced me to these animals and developed my fascination for their evolution and ecology.  If I was going to succeed in restarting this part of my career I was going to need help.  However, I was hesitant to reach out to him.  After such a protracted interval with no communication my prodigal status seemed assured.  Yet when I finally contacted Reinhard he was the same gracious and captivating person that I knew in graduate school.  Reinhard was excited and interested in what I was proposing.  He was supportive and encouraging.  My graduate school interactions with Reinhard were always intellectually and inspiring to me.  Our e-mails and phone conversation evoked the same emotions this summer.   He had an easy generosity in sharing his ideas, resources, and personal warmth.

As with Julian, I too have been flooded with memories of my interactions with Reinhard, many of the same kind.  I recall sitting in marine ecology and puzzling over what a grrrr was (turns out it was the North Atlantic gyre).  I remember when I submitted my first dissertation proposal just prior to leaving North Carolina to visit family for Thanksgiving that Reinhard came rushing down the hallway to my office in Wilson Hall to let me know that he took a quick look at the proposal and he thought it was a promising start (it wasn’t but I still appreciate the fact that he wanted me to feel relaxed and happy during the holiday).  I will never forget during my orals when I hit a snag in answering a question about experimental designs because I was not saying the word “control” that Reinhard slipped me a piece of paper with the word “CONTROL” written on it.  I also recall spending long periods of time with the comments that Reinhard wrote on my papers – largely because I never quite developed the skill of interpreting his script. There are many more memories, but this sample will do.  What is noteworthy about my memories of Reinhard is that none of them are bad. 

Despite the long interval that we were not in contact, I will miss him.  In the intervening years I often relied upon things that he had taught me about biology, teaching, research, and interacting with people.  I hope to proceed with my work on meiofauna.  Only now, it will not be just for myself, but also for the friend and mentor who made it possible.

He was the sort of thesis advisor who you could talk to for ten minutes and come away with ten new research ideas.

His excitement about animal phylogeny was infectious.

He was a wonderful friend, and he and I could pass a three-hour road-trip to the coast talking animal phylogeny and be surprised at how soon we seemed to arrive.

He was an enthusiastic and tenacious, but not very good, tennis player.

He was modest to the point of seff-effacement at times, and didn't mind laughing at himself. The story of how he mistook Erich Reisinger for the plumber had to be heard to be believed.

When I was a graduate student, he used to show up every day at my desk, eating his afternoon apple, and ask me how things were going. He never seemed to pressure his students, but he stood out in the department at Chapel Hill because he was so incredibly supportive of his graduate students.

He drove very fast, and with a casual disregard for exactly how small a distance by which he'd just missed the car he'd passed on the highway. The first time I rode with him, Bruce Duncan, Margaret Fransen, and Beth Knauss were all with us. My memory is that Bruce let out an involuntary yelp as Reinhard passed a large truck with about six inches to spare.

He had a wonderful sense of humor about his Austrian pronunciation of English (which was always better than my German), and a communicated a wonderful excitement about invertebrate biology. Two anecdotes come to mind:

• Having majored in chemistry as an undergraduate, I came into my doctoral program needing to take his invertebrate biology course. The laboratory met twice/week for four hours, and that wasn't nearly enough. Reinhard routinely came into lab and lectured about the taxonomic group(s) of the day for an hour and a half, leaving us about half the lab period to examine, draw, and study the several dozen specimens he and the teaching assistant (Steve Gardiner) had put out. One day, he came in and lectured about the "vipescorpions" for about 30 minutes (while all of the students in the class looked very puzzled). Finally, Steve Gardiner said, "Um, Reinhard--it's pronounced "whipscorpions". Reinhard looked down and his notes and muttered "one should be vipped." He then looked up at the class and said, "Will will now look at the "soidovipescorpions." Steve and I laughed so hard we nearly cried.
• Early in my graduate days, I took up fencing, and commented on that to Reinhard. He mused "My father used to fence -- but with real fences!"

He was one of the most gracious people I've ever known. He brought Diane to tears when he took her by the hands, and thanked her for "bringing me back."

I will miss him greatly, both personally and professionally.

Please send memories for these pages - rudulph@comporium.net

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