Remembering Reed Wadley--"... and you will.".

Remembering Reed Wadley--"... and you will.". In my mind today, I can hear those three short words just as I didduring my Ph.D. qualifying exam. The goal that day was for a committeeto identify my weaknesses--a necessary, but unpleasant rite ofpassage--and we had been at it for several hours. A professor posed aquestion to me, prefaced with, "When you do your research inKalimantan ...," and Reed leaned over and spoke those three words,quietly but with confidence and great conviction. At that time, he hadbeen diagnosed with cancer, and although I was the eternal optimistthroughout his illness, part of me was gripped by fear and uncertainty.I did not expect to see him that day, knowing that he was in significantpain and undergoing treatment, but he came. He must have understood myapprehensions on a day that he knew would be difficult for me (he knewme to be a perfectionist). His presence and his few words meant more tome than I think he knew and more than I was ever able to express to him. As a mentor, Reed was always more likely to pose a challenge, askquestions, and present alternative perspectives than he was to offereasy praise. There were always ways to improve, new skills to acquire,new possibilities and directions. Exceeding his expectations and pushingthese limits became my mission (and I think he knew this). I relishedhis keen intellect and thought processes, while he cultivated, refined,and fortified my own. As our professional relationship grew, our personal relationshipbecame stronger. I watched Reed moving through the crisis of the pastfew years, and as I tried to offer help and hope, I was often touched byhis own strength as well as his vulnerability. Throughout this time, Icame to know him as a loving husband to Oona and a loving father toLucas, as a strong and tender man, and as a cherished friend. Simply put, Reed Wadley changed my life. He was a wonderful mentor,both academically and in learning to cope with life's indignities.Today, I continue with the plans that we laid out at the beginning ofthis journey. Within the next year, I will carry out my dissertationfieldwork in West Kalimantan. This is a bittersweet moment, and I amever aware of my mentor's gift to me. His is a voice to heed and toremember. "... And I will, Reed. I will ..." (Christina Pomianek, Department of Anthropology, University ofMissouri, Columbia, Missouri)