tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4791669892645690181.post8459142921814187596..comments2009-01-30T11:21:56.584-05:00Justin Donhauserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09794355653015216052noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4791669892645690181.post-59179113812794122512008-01-17T12:19:00.000-05:002008-01-17T12:19:00.000-05:00I have several fond memories of Dr. Hare. He would sometimes leave books in my mailbox with pages marked to indicate passages that he thought I would be interested in. He never wanted the books back. In some cases I suspected that he purchased them just for me. <BR/>The most distressing thing Dr. Hare did was to call me on a sunny Sunday afternoon to ask what I thought of the readings for the upcoming meeting of a seminar he was teaching. I tried to act like I had read it, but I could not fool Dr. Hare. He never called me out on it, but it was obvious that he did not buy it.<BR/><BR/>The best thing that Dr. Hare did for me was in my second year of graduate school when I had incompletes piling up, one of which was for his course. When I had asked for an incomplete, he noticed that I was nervous and remarked "Don't be ashamed of having good ideas." When the incomplete dragged on, and during an advisement committee meeting he said one of the most encouraging things that I had ever heard. He said "it is important that you do not get discouraged. You are at the border of ontology, epistemology, and logic. Nothing is obvious there."<BR/><BR/>I can sincerely claim that if it had not been for Professor Hare's generous instruction and encouragement (along with other kind souls in our dept) I would have left philosophy for the bowling industry after my second year in graduate school.<BR/><BR/>I will always remember him fondly.<BR/><BR/>Leonard JacuzzoJacuzzonoreply@blogger.com