A Second Year to Pay Tribute to Murray
Today is the two-year anniversary of Murray's death. It's the official day to pay tribute to him, to remember all the good that he did in the world. To remember how many children and adults live without or with less violence in their lives because Murray was curious and he followed the story that the data that he collected had to tell. It's the day to pay tribute to this wonderful human being: mentor, colleague, friend, social scientist, teacher, supporter, innovator, and endless optimist. A man who saw the silver lining when many others couldn't see any lining at all. A scientist who took endless risks with his career. A man of morals and high standards. As I penned in my 2016 tribute to Murray, a man who "was engaged, enthusiastic, and totally committed to life every day, even at the end."
Today's the day that the world lost Murray; that his family, friends, and colleagues lost him. Today's the day that I lost Murray: mentor and colleague, turned trusted friend.
It's true what they say - time marches on, but a person also stays with you. The first year without Murray was all about the formal tributes and celebration of his life, and of finding ways to wrap up his work. Even when I was drowning in trying to finish or revise his work, I was still engaged in a formal process - a process that he asked me to take on. Most of those formal processes have finished, but the opportunities to pay tribute to Murray have not. They are seemingly endless and I'm so happy to engage.
A day never passes without me thinking about Murray. How could it? Truly, how could it, because I routinely receive emails in reference to Murray. Most of the inquiries are about Murray's Conflict Tactics Scale (CTS), the most widely used tool to measure partner violence, both in research and clinical settings. I just did a quick search for the "CTS" using my university's library databases. When I set the restrictions to "peer-reviewed" sources and "journal articles" the result is over 61,000 hits. That's a lot of hits. So, really it's no surprise, that almost every week someone emails me from across the globe to inquire about using the CTS.
I was asked to speak at a family violence conference in Germany that was held in April, by someone who had known Murray. When the organizer inquired about the possible topics that I could cover, I mentioned in passing that in addition to my own research, I could also give a talk about Murray. He scooped this idea up with no hesitation, but asked me to emphasize the bravery that Murray demonstrated in the face of opposition to his work and even at times, death threats. The conference attendees were psychotherapists and other domestic violence practitioners. Many of them had never heard of Murray. But, I described his bravery as a social scientist and I am sure that my adoration for Murray broke through as I told tales about his quirky behaviors, his scooter that was largely held together with duct tape, and his medical mishaps--like the time he fired his cardiologist from his hospital bed because the doctor would not permit him to have his laptop. Some conference attendees were fascinated to know that Murray had been one of the earliest champions for women experiencing domestic violence. This was before he and others were criticized for acknowledging the harmful impact of spanking children or that women can, and do, perpetrate violence against their male partners. Since the conference largely focused on the mutuality or bidirectionality of partner violence, Murray's name was mentioned time and time again, his legacy living far beyond his 90 years.
The opportunities to pay tribute to Murray are endless. When I was in Germany, I was with another one of Murray's close colleagues. We reminisced, talked about the magnitude of Murray's work, revered him in ways that he deserves to be revered, and sighed mutual sighs over his absence. When my academic year finished, I met a friend of Murray's locally. We had lunch where he and Murray regularly dined and where I had, on occasion, joined them, as well. We talked about the impact of Murray's work, his critics, how he adapted his approach or delivery of new research findings, and we missed him together. Last week a colleague and I spoke at the Canadian Senate. We encountered another like-minded family violence researcher, a well-known figure in the field. He asked about Murray, recounted the last time that he saw him, and he, too, mentioned the incredible bravery and courage that Murray brought to his work: impressive, compelling, and inspiring.
I've already mentioned time and time again, how much I adored Murray. These opportunities to pay tribute to him solidify that adoration. It is not work. It is an honor. Okay, it's occasionally work, but it's always an honor, too. The picture below shows that at my office, I keep Murray very nearby; his image is a prominent presence in my physical, as well as my mental "space," if you will. As I said the last two times I blogged about Murray (here and here): I have a short list of people who I would do anything in the world for. Murray was at the top of that list. His death and the passage of time have not altered the membership or ranking of said list. The opportunities to pay tribute to this human being just reinforce what has been true for years: dead or alive, I'd do anything to pay tribute to Murray.
Today's the day that the world lost Murray; that his family, friends, and colleagues lost him. Today's the day that I lost Murray: mentor and colleague, turned trusted friend.
It's true what they say - time marches on, but a person also stays with you. The first year without Murray was all about the formal tributes and celebration of his life, and of finding ways to wrap up his work. Even when I was drowning in trying to finish or revise his work, I was still engaged in a formal process - a process that he asked me to take on. Most of those formal processes have finished, but the opportunities to pay tribute to Murray have not. They are seemingly endless and I'm so happy to engage.
A day never passes without me thinking about Murray. How could it? Truly, how could it, because I routinely receive emails in reference to Murray. Most of the inquiries are about Murray's Conflict Tactics Scale (CTS), the most widely used tool to measure partner violence, both in research and clinical settings. I just did a quick search for the "CTS" using my university's library databases. When I set the restrictions to "peer-reviewed" sources and "journal articles" the result is over 61,000 hits. That's a lot of hits. So, really it's no surprise, that almost every week someone emails me from across the globe to inquire about using the CTS.
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I was asked to speak at a family violence conference in Germany that was held in April, by someone who had known Murray. When the organizer inquired about the possible topics that I could cover, I mentioned in passing that in addition to my own research, I could also give a talk about Murray. He scooped this idea up with no hesitation, but asked me to emphasize the bravery that Murray demonstrated in the face of opposition to his work and even at times, death threats. The conference attendees were psychotherapists and other domestic violence practitioners. Many of them had never heard of Murray. But, I described his bravery as a social scientist and I am sure that my adoration for Murray broke through as I told tales about his quirky behaviors, his scooter that was largely held together with duct tape, and his medical mishaps--like the time he fired his cardiologist from his hospital bed because the doctor would not permit him to have his laptop. Some conference attendees were fascinated to know that Murray had been one of the earliest champions for women experiencing domestic violence. This was before he and others were criticized for acknowledging the harmful impact of spanking children or that women can, and do, perpetrate violence against their male partners. Since the conference largely focused on the mutuality or bidirectionality of partner violence, Murray's name was mentioned time and time again, his legacy living far beyond his 90 years.
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| Me, speaking about Murray in Germany, April 2018. |
The opportunities to pay tribute to Murray are endless. When I was in Germany, I was with another one of Murray's close colleagues. We reminisced, talked about the magnitude of Murray's work, revered him in ways that he deserves to be revered, and sighed mutual sighs over his absence. When my academic year finished, I met a friend of Murray's locally. We had lunch where he and Murray regularly dined and where I had, on occasion, joined them, as well. We talked about the impact of Murray's work, his critics, how he adapted his approach or delivery of new research findings, and we missed him together. Last week a colleague and I spoke at the Canadian Senate. We encountered another like-minded family violence researcher, a well-known figure in the field. He asked about Murray, recounted the last time that he saw him, and he, too, mentioned the incredible bravery and courage that Murray brought to his work: impressive, compelling, and inspiring.
I've already mentioned time and time again, how much I adored Murray. These opportunities to pay tribute to him solidify that adoration. It is not work. It is an honor. Okay, it's occasionally work, but it's always an honor, too. The picture below shows that at my office, I keep Murray very nearby; his image is a prominent presence in my physical, as well as my mental "space," if you will. As I said the last two times I blogged about Murray (here and here): I have a short list of people who I would do anything in the world for. Murray was at the top of that list. His death and the passage of time have not altered the membership or ranking of said list. The opportunities to pay tribute to this human being just reinforce what has been true for years: dead or alive, I'd do anything to pay tribute to Murray.
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| My desk at work. Keeping Murray nearby. |
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