Ostapovych O.Ya.
In Memory of a Friend and Teacher
Late autumn of 1992. The imposing and splendid imperial Vienna. A 19-year-old boy, a green fourth-year student at the Faculty of Foreign Languages from the small provincial town of Ivano-Frankivsk in western Ukraine, for the first time in his life travelled abroad as a scholarship holder of the Austrian government to study Germanistics at the University of Vienna. With wide eyes full of amazement, he eagerly plunged into the rich resources of the university library and literally submerged himself in books. And he eagerly awaited a promised new and fascinating acquaintance, as told by senior colleagues – lecturers Halyna Shatska and Vasyl Uhryniuk. “You know, soon our student friend from Chernivtsi, Sasha – Oleksandr Dmytrovych Oguy, will come to Vienna for an internship. A universal linguistic genius. A polyglot who knows forty languages. He is finishing his doctoral dissertation. A scholar by the grace of God, and a nice person.” The acquaintance exceeded all expectations. Simplicity and friendliness in communication, refined natural inner intelligence, sincere and completely non-hypocritical “unscheduled” smile. Nowhere – neither during joint walks through the cozy streets of central Vienna, nor at the friendly table of the small Ukrainian academic community of the Austrian capital, nor during serious scientific discussions with colleagues – for even a second was there a hint of the intellectual gap that separated the student and the perspective professor. Later, my entire experience of communicating with the academic and humanitarian elite of Ukraine confirmed the rule – the higher the real qualification, the intellectual magnitude, and the scientific contribution of the professor, the less arrogance, self-loving narcissism, and need to belittle the younger in age and social status he has. Oleksandr Dmytrovych was the first to show me this.
But the strongest impression was not even this. When Oleksandr Dmytrovych visited my dorm room, he immediately set his eyes on the bookshelf. Among the bindings of books brought home from the library, he found one and was stunned with almost childlike excitement: “I’ve never seen or read this before! Can I take a look?” Smiling, I handed him the book and a cup of tea and sat down next to him. How many hours passed – I can no longer recall. But that’s how he imprinted in my memory. Bent over a book, the tip of his tongue sticking out from enjoyment, glasses slid to the tip of his nose (he was already quite near-sighted then). He forgot about everything in the world. Time stopped… He was in his element. He was reading! And I quietly admired him. Then I saw what it means not to engage in science, but to live by it…
When we met again ten years later, he hadn’t changed a bit. Already a professor, the author of countless impeccably first-rate, innovative works, an indisputable scientific authority – and still as sincerely friendly, childishly direct, like a true scientific fanatic, a bit “not of this world.” The students of our university, to whom Professor Oguy came to lecture and chair the State Examination Commissions and the defence of diploma and master’s theses, had the happy opportunity to gain intellectual pleasure from communicating with a European scientific luminary. And God granted me the happiness of working closely with Oleksandr Dmytrovych for a good decade – he became my colleague, close senior friend, good advisor, scientific consultant, but always remained a Teacher.
Throughout the two decades of our acquaintance, I could not shake off the persistent feeling – why is he in such a hurry?!! Trying to accomplish as much as possible, consciously pushing himself like a “workhorse.” Working selflessly – living on the road, lecturing everywhere he was awaited and always welcomed. And yet – laboriously working nights – reading, correcting, and writing. Did he feel that God had given him not much time, as, unfortunately, often happens with the best? Probably not – he simply had two traits that made him a Scholar and a Teacher, which are now not so often seen. First – an enthusiastic, almost childlike curiosity. He was interested in everything – he caught and developed with physiological pleasure scientific novelties from various fields – from the history of Bukovina to economics and numismatics, from neurophysiology, psychology, and cognitive linguistics to statistical analysis. Second – a remarkable altruism and care for students and junior colleagues, the ability to give himself to others, regardless of time, nerves, and health. Therefore, there was always a sense of celebration in the Department of German Philology of the Vasyl Stefanyk Precarpathian National University when we knew – today Oguy would come! Here too was his family – friends from student youth, graduate students, former students. He was ours! I knew for sure – when he entered the Department, he would definitely hug all of us tightly, shaking our bones, shake hands, and hand me a new book with a smile – “read, copy, you will definitely find new and interesting ideas there that you can creatively develop!” He simply could not help but “infect” with this researcher instinct! Students were afraid of his arrival – but only for the first time! After acquaintance, all fear disappeared and gave way to admiration and attentive listening with open mouths. I personally, as a member of the State Examination Commission, witnessed how Oleksandr Dmytrovych at the state exam for 48 (!) minutes – I kept track of the time! – literally interrogated a fifth-year student (not at all an honors student, a modest girl from a hardworking peasant family), and at the end, completely sweating, with relief, exhaled: “That’s it! Now I can, with a clear conscience, give her an “excellent” mark. This was him – maximum professionalism in work, incurable workaholism, increased demands on himself, and benevolent respect for the work of others. He raised a very high bar of requirements, set a standard of quality, which we, in his memory, simply cannot help but adhere to. I can only thank God for the happiness of having Oleksandr Dmytrovych among my close friends and “cult figures” who will live in student legends and whom I will quote to my students and remember with gratitude until the end of my days.