I just learned that the man who gave me a chance and hired me into my first admissions job, Don McCormick, has passed away. He was one of the people I had in mind when I wrote a brief, completely inadequate post of thanks to everyone who had set me on my path. And, of course, he was the critical character–the virtual lynchpin–between my pre-admissions and post-admissions life.

He and I were not much alike from a personality standpoint. Don was a relationship person, through and through. I wanted to get permission to log in to the mainframe computer (which was shared by three small colleges in the area) and tried to get us to start using CEEB codes on inquiries instead of manually entering high school names freeform. He would pick up the phone and call a perfect stranger, and make a friend. I enjoyed admissions travel because it cut down on the number of people I’d see in the day, I’d get to eat alone, and zone out in the hotel room at night. He spent his free time golfing, a sport I never really liked, while I’d spend my Friday happy hours and Saturday nights with other 25-year-olds at the local bars, one of which Don jokingly referred to as “The Den of Iniquity.”

And of course, as is always the case, you learn the most from people who are not like you. My preference would have been to lock the door at 5 pm on a Friday. He’d make sure everyone who was supposed to show up had, and he’d wait to see if they were just delayed. The world stopped for him when a student walked through the door, and that’s something I’ve reinforced with people I’ve worked with ever since.

He wasn’t one of the big names in college admission, then or now; that was not his style. But what he taught me at little Mount Mercy College in Iowa has carried me through to five more universities, big and small, highly selective and more welcoming, public and private, in three different time zones. I hope at some point I’ve paid what he taught me forward; and more than that, I hope he realized how far his influence has spread.

RIP to the man we all just called, “The Big Guy.” And peace to Karen and Tracy.