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I'm honored to talk to you this morning about Peg Corbett,
whom you knew as a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend and
a colleague. As I have met with Peg's family over the last week,
I have seen their sorrow at the loss of a loved member of a
loving family. Those of us who knew Peg as a friend and colleague
are also well aware of the gap she leaves, of the many ways
she shared our triumphs and problems and smoothed our path,
and made us better and happier people for knowing her.
Peg spent most of her working life at the University of Pittsburgh,
and she did so because she wanted to be in an environment
where she could make a difference. She felt that it was important
to make a contribution to people's lives, and the university
gave her the opportunity to do that. We were fortunate that
she chose to join the School of Information Sciences, where
she did indeed make a difference, in the lives of our faculty,
staff and perhaps most importantly in the lives of our students.
To the faculty and staff who worked with her, she was the
consummate professional: reliable, hard-working, and totally
discreet. She was a private person, and not given to complaint.
But she was also a friend, a valued member of our community.
She could share a joke with us, or comment wryly on human
foibles. She could also make it clear that she had high expectations
of us, and let us know with just a look when we were not living
up to her standards.
She worked magic on all of us to make us better than we were.
She would say, "now, we have to get this done today",
or "I have to have this form completed" and things
would get done and deadlines would be met. We all, I think,
looked a little better, a little more efficient and reliable
than we are, because Peg took care to make us appear so. In
her interaction with students, she managed also to give us
a kinder and more human face.
Peg was a magician in other ways. Nobody could negotiate
the university bureaucracy with such style and charm. She
was our miracle worker; she got things done, even when we
had all agreed it was impossible. I remember her on the telephone,
convincing the movers to come on a certain day, charming this
or that official to bend this regulation or extend that deadline.
With Peg in charge, things happened, and like true sleight
of hand, it all appeared easy, even when there was dedication
and hard work behind it.
I remember Peg in many ways only vaguely related to her job
description. She was wonderful with children: I remember them
visiting the office and being given an important "job"
to keep them busy so that what might have been a disruption
became a pleasure. I remember Peg fixing a set of shelves
or a recalcitrant machine with a hammer and screwdriver. She
did wonders with a good thump, too. I remember Peg striding
off at lunchtime in her sneakers for her daily walk, and coming
back from the shops to show us the gifts she had bought for
her family. I remember the pleasure and delight she took in
planning her mother's birthday surprise on her visit to Disney
World, and in sharing the plotting and planning with us. I
remember her Mickey Mouse computer pad, and the mementos of
family holidays in her office -- all part of the joy she found
in life.
I've been very touched, and I know Peg's family have been
too, by the messages and comments that have arrived from our
graduates, particularly our doctoral students, with whom Peg
worked closely. The messages have come from around the world:
"She searched all over the building to find me when my
daughter was ill"; "she was so helpful when my hand
was in a cast"; "she comforted me when I failed
and celebrated with me when I succeeded." Peg reassured
them when they had doubts, calmed them when they were nervous,
and celebrated with them when they were successful. The first
act of many of our doctoral students on successfully defending
their dissertation was to rush down to Peg's office to share
their triumph with her.
I know that, as the weeks pass, we will continue to discover
the ways in which Peg worked her quiet magic for us. Peg Corbett
was a very special person, and she will be missed by all of
us. In the words of the Irish story, "She had a way of
her own, and she had it entirely."

A memorial fund has been
established to support the Margaret Mary Corbett Award, for
the best doctoral dissertation proposal in a given year.
Contributions, payable to the University of Pittsburgh,
may be sent to Rachel Callison, Assistant to the Chair,
Department of Library and Information Science, University
of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, PA 15260. |
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