Rodney
Edwin Emmer, PhD
1944
- 2008
Editor’s Note
The following tribute was written by Jim Wilkins, Director Law
& Policy Advisory Service at the Louisiana Sea Grant College
Program at LSU. He had the privilege of working with Rod for 20 years
on various coastal resource and hazard mitigation issues. They co-taught a
course in coastal zone management at LSU for the last 10 years. Rod Emmer
has been a part of the Sea Grant College Program for the last two-and-a-half
years. He and Jim co-authored a recent study of land use planning in coastal
Louisiana and just released a publication titled, “Louisiana Coastal Hazard
Mitigation Guidebook.”
Dr. Rod Emmer passed away August 3rd, 2008- the victim
of multiple myeloma- a type of blood cancer. I don't think it is an overstatement
to say that the state of Louisiana and the country have lost a great resource
of knowledge and experience in the fields of floodplain management, hazard
mitigation, geography and culture. Rod's dedication to his profession and
his stellar work ethic made him a great force for the benefit of our state,
but Rod was much more than a top notch professional. Throughout my association
with Rod over the last 20 years, I found him to be a generous and friendly
person, always willing to help whenever needed. To those of us that spent
a lot of time with him, he was like a big brother. A big man with a big heart.
Rod and I taught a course in coastal zone management
at LSU for 10 years and I learned a lot from him about teaching and dealing
with students. He was willing to bend over backwards to help a student learn,
but that student had better be willing to work or he was toast.
Rod was a true epicure. Having grown up in the cradle
of fine cuisine, New Orleans, the man knew how to eat well. He eschewed what
he called the phony "brass and glass" restaurants in favor of the earthy,
genuine eating establishments that you find in the neighborhoods and on backstreets.
Not that he didn't like fancy restaurants, but these establishments had better
be sticking to business when it came to the food. I never stumped Rod when
looking for a place to eat. He knew at least one or two in almost every town
of any size in Louisiana, plus the best bakery to get his beloved New Orleans-style
French bread. Rod hated a po-boy made with what he called a "weenie bun."
Rod spent his childhood in the New Orleans of the 1940s
and 50s and he loved to entertain his friends with stories of how the city
was back then; and how those cultural rivers had diverged and coalesced into
what we see today. Rod's roots were deep in New Orleans and it seemed he
was happy there as a child, but he chose Baton Rouge as his adult home, much
to our benefit.
Rod never married. He said he had a couple of chances over the years, but
let them slip away. “C'est la vie” he said, but he still enjoyed the company
of women and would visibly light up when in their presence. Having no children,
Rod "adopted" his three nephews and their children, playing the role of the
kind eccentric uncle; and of course, helping them in any way he could. One
Christmas he and I spent several hours in my workshop making all different
shapes and sizes of wooden blocks to give to a great nephew because Rod believed
children benefited from the simple creative play that modern electronic gizmos
couldn't provide. Rod would probably have made a pretty good father.
Rod knew how to manage money; he could pinch a penny
until it screamed. I guess that came from being pretty much self sufficient
and independent in what he called "the real world" from the time he left home
for LSU, then on to Korea with the Army, to Oregon State and finally back
home to his beloved Louisiana. His German practicality didn't prevent him
from being generous though. He valued people above all.
Rod had the gift of gab and could make friends easily, but he was a straight
shooter. He knew how to keep his mouth shut when politics dictated, but if
prompted to speak, which was often, you had better be prepared to hear the
truth as he saw it, delivered in that distinctive upper 9th Ward accent. And
he usually hit the heart of the matter with great accuracy.
The disease laid Rod low, but he displayed great courage
and maintained as much dignity as the pain and hospital conditions allowed.
Rod loved a good joke between friends and at the end he was still laughing
even through his labored breathing.
As well-wishes from friends in the various circles of
Rod's life poured in these last few weeks, Rod said to me more than once that
he couldn't get over how good the people at Sea Grant were to him when he
got sick. It amazed him that people he didn't have much history with would
rally around him so much. He was so appreciative of that and I know that I
speak for him and myself when I say thank you so much for being such caring,
considerate people and being there for him. You are a good bunch of folks.
So goodbye, Rod. You did not “go gentle into that good
night*,” but you are still gone.
Goodbye dear friend.
Jim Wilkins
*My apologies to Dylan Thomas.
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