Recollections of Robert E. Comas: Friend and Colleague
by Allen Wilcoxon, Ed.D.
Bob Comas was a teacher, friend, and mentor to hundreds of students and dozens of colleagues throughout his career at The University of Alabama. Counseling practices, public schools, and counselor education programs have been staffed with program graduates who admired Bob and were committed to the wisdom he shared in his classes. But Bob’s influence featured so many other dimensions.
Whether in a classroom, board room, or dining room, Bob was able to weave a story or a joke into a potentially difficult situation in ways that could relax and bring people together with common purpose. He was always the most prepared person in the group among colleagues and usually the first to volunteer for difficult tasks. Frankly, Bob was capable of convincing people they could be innovative and successful while being cordial and respectful by simply being an example.
I traveled and roomed with Bob for professional conferences many times. Traveling with Bob meant multiple stops for coffee, meals, or snacks. One trip from a Tuscaloosa to Huntsville included 4 stops for food! I was on guard whenever rooming with Bob, since he might hide my shoes, tie my socks to drawer handles, or pack all of the towels in his suitcase (each of which he did). As an adult, Bob Comas could be a terrific 12-year-old boy!
Joan was clearly his most adored confidant and partner in life but his pleasure in sharing stories about their grandchildren showed that “grandfather“ became one of his most joyful roles. Faculty would often say that Bob’s universal gift to anyone for any occasion would be a photo of his grandchildren. He typically left phone messages beginning with “Allen? It’s Popi,” his grandfather name.
Retirement from his career did not mean inactivity and simple leisure for Bob. His volunteer work was inspirational. Bob simply shared his gifts without the need for reciprocity or recognition.
There is no doubt about the significance of Bob’s leadership in and contributions to our field. But accomplished as he was as a professor, Bob was more beloved as a friend and respected as a colleague and citizen. His passing is a profound loss for those who knew him and a missed opportunity for those who did not.
Whether in a classroom, board room, or dining room, Bob was able to weave a story or a joke into a potentially difficult situation in ways that could relax and bring people together with common purpose. He was always the most prepared person in the group among colleagues and usually the first to volunteer for difficult tasks. Frankly, Bob was capable of convincing people they could be innovative and successful while being cordial and respectful by simply being an example.
I traveled and roomed with Bob for professional conferences many times. Traveling with Bob meant multiple stops for coffee, meals, or snacks. One trip from a Tuscaloosa to Huntsville included 4 stops for food! I was on guard whenever rooming with Bob, since he might hide my shoes, tie my socks to drawer handles, or pack all of the towels in his suitcase (each of which he did). As an adult, Bob Comas could be a terrific 12-year-old boy!
Joan was clearly his most adored confidant and partner in life but his pleasure in sharing stories about their grandchildren showed that “grandfather“ became one of his most joyful roles. Faculty would often say that Bob’s universal gift to anyone for any occasion would be a photo of his grandchildren. He typically left phone messages beginning with “Allen? It’s Popi,” his grandfather name.
Retirement from his career did not mean inactivity and simple leisure for Bob. His volunteer work was inspirational. Bob simply shared his gifts without the need for reciprocity or recognition.
There is no doubt about the significance of Bob’s leadership in and contributions to our field. But accomplished as he was as a professor, Bob was more beloved as a friend and respected as a colleague and citizen. His passing is a profound loss for those who knew him and a missed opportunity for those who did not.
