I just found out late last night that Professor Russell Peck passed away on Feb 20th at the age of 89. What a tremendous loss. I am heartbroken. I still cannot believe it.
Russell, as I called him, was a legend. A world authority on Middle English literature, the longest teaching professor at the University of Rochester, a dynamic, charismatic figure full of ideas and fervor, a curious mind with endless intellectual energy, but also a kind and generous human.
I met Russell through his wife, Ruth, who was my kids’ piano teacher. I drove my kids to their house every week, for almost a decade. I would sit in the family room and wait for each child to finish their lesson. Russell would stop by sometimes and talk to me about interesting plays he had seen. He knew how much I love the theater.
We would marvel at his English garden, filled with a variety of spontaneous blooms. They seemed organic, profuse, unfettered, an eruption of colors and fragrances, yet they were thoughtfully planned and cared for by Russell. Ruth would complain about the weeding which she felt obliged to support.
In the summertime, Ruth would organize recitals for her students in their house. The furniture was moved and countless chairs would appear as if by magic. Russell designed the program and prepared his famous punch. There was always a scoop of ice cream in the middle, sweet yumminess I remember to this day. It would be a potluck. We would grab our plates and punch, and head to the garden. Something unforgettable.
In 2008, when Russell found out I had made a documentary, my first foray into filmmaking after leaving corporate finance, he told Ruth they had to organize a launch party, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They invited people from the English Department at the University of Rochester and other leaders of the community. They wanted to create support for the film before it premiered. Their sincerity and kindness moved me, impressed me. We became closer.
In 2012-13, I joined Ruth and Russell for their famous Theatre in London course. It was a dream. I was in London for almost three weeks and saw 25 plays. Even though I was older than their UR students and, as an activist filmmaker, my POV was frequently different, they encouraged me to share my thoughts. Every morning, we would meet in a small room on the ground floor of Hotel Harlingford, and we would critique the plays we had seen the day before. Russell would make an effort to engage me, urging me to dig deeper and add to the discussion.
They invited me to a family dinner with their daughter and grandchildren. Ruth kept checking in on me, with her usual warmth and charm, she made me feel like I was an essential part of the group. Afterwards, when I wrote my reviews, one for each play, Russell gave me wonderful feedback and was so happy with my work, he published it on the UR website.
In 2014, when my art exhibition, This Heirloom, opened at the Colacino gallery at Nazareth College, both Ruth and Russell attended. In my artist talk, I mentioned the book that they had brought back for me from their annual trip to London. It was called “Drawing the Line.” The politics of partition are messed up and entangled with histories of ethnonationalism since 1947, but I loved the play.
Russell suggested UR plays and lectures to me. Many times we would attend them together, Ruth and Russell, Aitezaz and I. I would invite them over to dinners where they would meet new people and become friends with ease. Ruth in particular was effervescent. A bright light in any gathering. Russell would be quieter, lovely in his own way. He always gifted me a book, whenever we met after a bit of a break, a play or a collection of poems.
There are so many more memories. Their house on Crosman Terrace with a tree leaning in near the entrance, the conversations we had as we walked everywhere in London, Sunday Mass at Westminster Abbey, the trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, New Year Eve’s fireworks in Trafalgar Square, attending Russell’s class on myths and fairy tales, having lunch with him at the Elmwood Inn, dinners and art openings, plays and books, and much more.
My husband often said that Ruth and Russell are from a greater generation, that they don’t make Americans like that anymore. I agree. It was an honor to know you and learn from you, dear Russell.
[With Ruth and Russell Peck, London, 2013]
