An Ode to Dean Pfister

Dear Dean Pfister,

When people ask me what the greatest thing about Harvard has been,I respond with your name. The silent “P” is music to my ears,whispers to my soul.Donald H. Pfister. Yea, I looked up your middle initial.

I never see you, yet your emails let me know that you are around.Reading a Louise Penny mystery novel,contemplating the declining bee population,looking at leavesand feeling like an inspector. This is enough for me.

Every time I am a little down, I check my inbox, open an email, and enjoy the foliage.  Even though I am one of thousands,I don’t need a bcc to know that I am special to you.Your reminders to get my flu shot, and to read the article about Beekeepers, let me know that you value my personal health.

You remind me what is truly important in life— bees and mystery novels. And help me enjoy the little thingslike the academic integrity workshop last Thursday.

Your perfect prose,nurtures my soul and I want you to know that I enjoyed the Blog you recommended, the one about São Paulo. I look forward to more fungi puns, you fun guy. I identified with the shrooms.