DANIEL JOHN KELLEY

Last Thursday, I found out my first college Shakespeare teacher, Paul Rudd, passed away. I hadn’t spoken to him in a number of years- the last interaction I had with him was corresponding about a show of mine he couldn’t come to. His response, though brief, was fairly indicative of how I will remember him: He wrote about his family, and a story he heard from someone somewhere and maybe how there was a play in it, he wrote about politics and how the world was preposterous, and he wrote about which play he was working on, and how he was attacking it this time. “Am tackling HAMLET at NSD with Classics students next year…like we did at SLC, but wilder, more crazy Beckettesque, and other attacks.” Then he sent me $100 to make sure my play happened, even though I hadn’t asked for it.

It’s honestly strange to think of him as gone, because there was something so essentially LIVING about Paul. When I first met him- the first semester of my freshman year at Sarah Lawrence- he was this bleeched blond haired sixty year old man with a fanny pack and a too-tight-of-t-shirt who- within the first thirty minutes of class- had leapt out of his chair and started bellowing about how undeniably hot Lady Macbeth was. He taught Shakespeare, but to him there was nothing sacred or sacrosanct about it. It was about people- beautiful, intelligent, hilarious, dirty, stupid, sexual people- people who LIVED, and were LIVING. He did everything he could to bring the outside world into the classroom and show us how people in the world were still behaving in the same ways as the people in these 400 year old plays. Honestly, sometimes it was a bit of a stretch, but there was no denying his passionate conviction, his energy, enthusiasm and the love he had for the work and for his students. Perhaps it’s cliche to talk about the teacher who made Shakespeare “come alive” for you- and perhaps everyone who fancies themselves an actor at some point has had one- but Paul was mine, and it meant a lot to me. The joy with which he approached his work and his life is something I am very grateful to have been a part of, and something I continue to carry with me.

That said, I don’t think Paul would want me to be sitting here and idealizing him. That’s really not what he was about. Like the characters he taught, acted and loved, Paul was a man- a beautiful, intelligent, hilarious, dirty, stupid, and sexual man. And one that will be missed.