I’m sure that of all those who have contributed to this series of tributes I cannot be the only one to comment on Dr. Robert Wright’s special sense of humor! There is no such thing as a pun too outrageous for Bob Wright to enjoy, to share orally and by e-mail with others and—from time to time—to explain to the uninitiated the play on words that made that particular pun the gem that it was.

But Bob’s love for outrageous wordplay is a manifestation of a love for language itself. And it was from him perhaps more than anyone else at Temple that I learned to write and to care about how I was writing.

Of course, the only fully appropriate response to one of Bob’s puns is a long pained groan. But there were other occasions for groaning in his classes. These occurred after we had submitted our seminar papers. You will understand that these were compositions that we had labored over, each word of which we had come to regard as though it were a beloved and precious child. And Bob would read what we had written carefully, remark about some things that could benefit from revision, and then comment with a smile that what had been submitted was not bad for a first draft.

My most frustrating time with Bob was as I approached the completion of my dissertation and asked him what he thought of my draft. His reply was non-committal, something like “we’ll see what the committee thinks.”

And all this was because Bob cared and cares about excellence. Good enough was not good enough. When a seminar paper was due and I was tired—and this was, of course, before changes could be easily made with a few computer keystrokes—achieving excellence was not always in my mind. But I learned some things about excellence from Bob that now I try to teach to my students in Greek and in exegesis.

And occasionally I too will utter an outrageous pun or two during one of my classes. After all, this is what my mentor did. And isn’t this what respecting tradition in higher education is about!

Enjoy your retirement! Enjoy Arizona!

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