Dear Editor,
I would like to pay tribute to one of the finest human beings I have ever been privileged to meet – Professor Fred Case. ‘Prof’ spent just two years with us at the University of Guyana following his retirement from the University of Toronto, and his death in May has left us empty and sorrowful. If the value of a person is to be measured by the vacuum we experience upon his leaving, then Prof was indeed an amazing treasure. My heartfelt sympathy goes out to his wife and children and other close relatives.
Personally I was astonished to discover how deeply his passing affected me; the overwhelming grief and sense of loss seemed disproportionate to the mere two years of our acquaintance.
Few people have made the impact on my life that Prof did.
His wealth of experience and his erudition made conversations with him amazingly stimulating, yet his humility and genuine respect for everyone he met were an inspiration. He demonstrated that every encounter with another human being was important; that relationships are what life is all about.
Studying literature with him was not just a matter of reading and discussing; it was a process of challenging and questioning every stereotype, every hypocritical stance, every cliché, every facile summation.
Whether the topic was the psychology of colonization or the significance of carnival or the widespread abuse of women or attitudes to homosexuality, the final destination of every intellectual voyage of discovery was, with Prof as guide (dare I say ‘shaman’?), a journey into oneself.
He challenged the narrow sectarianism and dogmatism that characterizes so much of religion, yet one had to be with him only a very short time to discover a profound spirituality. Prof spoke sometimes of his experiences of being the only black kid in his school in England, yet he was never bitter.
He shared anecdotes of his travels – experiences under repressive political regimes and in refugee camps – yet he was never cynical. His love of life and of people seemed to leave no place for negative, destructive thinking. If the yogic concept of a highly developed soul has any merit, then Prof was a highly developed soul.
Prof’s sense of humour and his occasional eccentricities added spice to any relationship with him. His response to the question, “Prof, how many children do you have?” was invariably (with mock outrage), “We count chickens and sheep; we don’t count children!” Or again, with that characteristic twinkle in his eye, he would ask: “Did I ever tell you about the time I acted as Mother Superior in a convent?”
He laughed a lot, and his laughter was infectious, but his sense of the comic was never mean-spirited: I never once heard him belittling another human being.
I’m missing Prof. A lot. And I suspect I’m going to miss him for a very long time. But I’m grateful to have known him and worked with him, and learned from him.
Yours faithfully,
Joyce Jonas
