I had gone through all the preliminary interviews and demos and I was nervous. Would I get a call back, or was this the end of the road in the competitive tenure-track world of college faculty? 

The phone rang; it was Napa Valley College. I sucked in my breath and awaited my fate. “We just wanted to call you to let you know that our decision for final interviews has been delayed because our college president has not returned to campus yet.” “Oh, uh, okay, thank you for calling.” Where was this elusive president and was it fair for him/them to leave me twisting in the wind?

About a week later the phone call did come and I was summoned back up to Napa for the final interview round. I was excited, but it was no easy task carving out time for travel and other logistics. Luckily my husband was able to come with me and we joined our friend in San Francisco and drove in to Napa together.

I knew my husband and our best friend Jon were roaming the wine country waiting for news from me about my interview. They had supported me the whole time and had dropped me off. I was fairly calm by the time of the interview because it was a typically hot day in August, so I was hot, tired and pretty much in the “whatever will be will be” attitude.

When I was led into the office of the president, a very tall, mostly white-haired and smiling man immediately extended his hand to shake mine. He was positively beaming. My whole body went rigid for a moment because this man I was looking at, albeit taller and younger, was the spitting image of my father-in-law. How was I supposed to interview with my father-in-law?

I shook my head to dispel my father-in-law’s image from my mind and looked at Dr. Chris McCarthy and Sue Nelson, acting VP at the time. They were both smiling and welcoming and invited me to sit with them at a long wooden meeting table.

I looked from Chris’s face and back to Sue’s and relaxed. They seemed genuinely happy to see me. I was completely green to the tenure-track interview process as I had just recently passed my PhD exams. I had applied to the open announcement at Napa Valley College thinking, “Well, I might as well dip my feet in the water and try out this job-seeking thing.” I joked with my husband, “Wouldn’t it be nice living in Napa?”

In the president’s office, Sue Nelson prompted me to share my varied experience and education with the president. I dutifully did so, but then I realized that Chris already knew all of it as he had pored over and virtually memorized my entire curriculum vitae and my answers to the college questionnaire. At the time I had no idea that this was normal for this remarkable man; he took a genuine interest in people and found something to appreciate about nearly everyone. I was somewhat embarrassed, however, when he effusively began to regale all of my experience, publications and other notable achievements. He actually seemed impressed and this was long before I knew all of Chris’s amazing achievements and contributions. That was Chris, though; self-effacing, quiet, easily moved and dedicated. I was hired, of course, much to our joy, and I found out rather quickly that Chris had just started his own tenure at the college just a year or so prior to me. We joked about being the new kids on the block and we shared stories of time lived in Southern California. 

On my first flex day (staff meetings held before the beginning of classes) held in the theatre that year, Chris welcomed me and others who had just been hired. What was immediately apparent to me was Chris’s commanding presence. I mean, the audience was literally spellbound when he spoke. I briefly remembered some acting classes I had taken wherein they had stressed the need to project one’s voice to the farthest seats in the theatre. This man did that, but it wasn’t an act. His speech seemed prepared but he wasn’t following a script.

On every flex day since in these past 7 years, when Chris spoke people listened. When I agreed to appear on the college’s cable show for the first time, Chris projected his amazing presence there as well while I quailed in nervousness.

I worked closely with Chris especially when I took over running the college’s honor society. I quickly found out that Chris had previously run an honors program himself and he was deeply dedicated to high-achieving students. Our little honor society chapter was, I found out, supported by Chris himself out of his own travel budget. He was determined that our students be able to travel to the honor society conferences and other events and he did so with his own money.

But Chris was by no means an elitist. When I began the Puente Program at the college in 2004, a program for historically underrepresented students that begins at below the transfer level, Chris was there too. At our inaugural class meeting, Chris showed up for that first class and warmly welcomed the students and offered his support. He attended that program’s events, and when we had our first group of Puente student graduates, he made it a point to recognize them before the community, families and college staff.  He was so enamored with the achievements of these students and the year after year graduates that he actually asked to be in our group picture that we always took at the end of the events cumulating around the Scholarship and graduation ceremonies.

While I continued to be impressed by my president and sometimes felt awkward around him, he immediately put me at ease when we talked. He never wore his amazing achievements nor displayed them. He had the habit of minimizing himself while elevating the person he was speaking to.

When our honor society had to chance to nominate Chris as outstanding college supervisor for his unwavering support, we silently prayed that he would be at the International Honor Society conference to be held in Texas where he would meet and be honored by such notables as Robert Kennedy and Fareed Zakaria. We shouldn’t have doubted. Chris was one of the lucky few chosen and we would finally have the chance to show him how much we appreciated his support for students.

I’ll never forget the unrealness of the Emmy-like ceremonies complete with television cameras, lighting, fancy stage tricks and screens. When Chris’s name was called to the stage, my co-advisor and students and I jumped up and yelled and clapped with all of our might. I hurried up near the stage to capture the honor on my camera. I was so proud and grateful that we could finally and properly show him the respect he deserved.

Later that night, my co-advisor, his wife and I were treated to a real Texan steakhouse dinner that Chris insisted on paying for with his personal money. He shared more of himself — even his early childhood and I felt privileged that he trusted us with these intimate moments, but what I remember most from that night was how he listened closely to the high school sweetheart story of my co-advisor and his wife. After a pause Chris said, “I feel honored to be at this table with you both and to have been able to hear your love story. Thank you so much.” 

A few weeks ago I wrote my piece on the lockdown at the college that happened last May. He e-mailed me and complimented me on my writing and expressed his thanks for my kind words, but what I replied was, “Chris, I will forever be grateful to you for all that you did for me and others during the lockdown.” I’m so glad that I had the chance to share just a bit of the extraordinary kindness and compassion that Chris displayed on so many occasions.

His last missive to me, on Facebook no less, where he was teaching himself to be tech-savvy in the social networking world (he never wanted to stop learning), was our lamenting the healthcare system and joking about how we hardly had any time with our doctors. He remarked that he was willing his cold to go away.  I said I was doing the same and, “We’ll see how that works out for us.” My last words to him. I will miss this remarkable man more than I can say and I know there are many of us who feel the same. Goodbye my friend.