Eric Rothstein

Rothstein, Eric David

MADISON - On Monday, Sept. 13, 2021, Eric David Rothstein, Edgar W. Lacy Emeritus Professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, most loving husband and father, followed stage directions: "Exit, pursued by a bear."

Unlike the infamous mauler in Shakespeare's "A Winter's Tale," the "bear" in Eric's tale was a sudden and unexpected heart attack on Friday, Sept. 10, which occurred just after he happily laid upon a brand new Serta mattress (extra firm - he "had to dial around for an extra firm, you know").

Eric was born to Charlotte (Spielberger) and Emil Rothstein in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, during World War II. His parents were first-generation Jewish Americans. Early years included both sets of grandparents, whom Eric adored. Eric's father served as a physician for the U.S. Navy, and the family followed Emil's career after his overseas tour. They moved to Indiana, Milwaukee, Wis. (living on the grounds of the Veteran's Hospital), and Dayton, Ohio, all of where his mother taught English to Russian Jewish immigrants and where Eric graduated high school ranked first in his state as a student of Latin.

Emil, Charlotte, and Eric's younger sister, Clara ("Carrie"), settled permanently in the Boston area while Eric attended college: AB summa cum laude, Harvard University, 1957; Doctor of Philosophy, Princeton University, 1962.

Eric spent much of his life reading and writing 18th century British literary criticism, philosophy and finally, about modernity - despite father Emil's fervent wish he'd go into something "practical," specifically advertising or law. He wrote, contributed to and/or edited many books and articles*. Father Emil came around.

*He didn't want a lengthy publications list here, but his family asks that you please Google if interested.

Eric took a position at University of Wisconsin-Madison in 1961. UW-Madison's Department of English remained Eric's beloved scholarly and teaching home for the next 60 years: instructor, 1961-1963; assistant professor of English, 1963-1966; associate professor, 1966-1970; professor, 1970-1982; and Edgar W. Lacy Professor of English, since 1982. He chaired the English Department and served as their Director of Graduate Studies.

Prof. Rothstein was awarded with the University Houses professorship in 1982. He was named a fellow in American Council of Learned Societies in 1973. Eric was awarded with a National Endowment of the Humanities fellowship in the summer of 1980. He was a fellow at Institute Research in the Humanities in 1985. Eric was a vocal supporter of the TAA, the Teaching Assistants' Union.

Eric married Marian Grunwald in 1965. They parted in 1985.

Eric swore to stay single, and he did for many years. A former student and bookstore worker, Megan, became Eric's bookseller, confidante and closest friend in their shared neighborhood. Years later, Meg confessed her absolute love for Eric, whom she nicknamed Peppo (the name by which a great many knew him, including their future child) and he for her. They married a short time later, both likely still in shock over their changed relationship and their age difference.

Theirs was a marriage of unconditional love and taking nothing for granted. Becoming parents together was a longtime dream come true. Both worried they were stealing time. They shared this worry together and nurtured trusting relationships with a growing community of family and friends, so needed should the worst happen. Thank you, all of you.

Eric pursued many other interests outside of his work on 18th-century literature, fatherhood foremost among them. He retired from teaching soon after becoming a father in order to give parenthood his all.

His child, Caven Flora Beatrix Charlotte, fascinated and delighted him. Together, they would read a great many books, explore interesting cities, museums, and restaurants, delis and bakeries around the world, support one another's causes, attend operas and plays, befriend one another's friends, write stories and delight in each other's comedic antics. The two were so close and, famously amidst their family, never once argued with one another.

Coming to his marriage with Meg and fatherhood very late in life, Eric never took time with his family for granted. They spent their lives together soaking up one another's rays. Eric wrote his wife a love letter on her birthday every single year they were given together. He proposed on her birthday in 2004, applied for their marriage license using Meg's fishing license among Eric's proper ID, and married on the first day of spring break in Waterloo, Wis.

Eric was passionate about beauty: in writing, in clothing, fabrics, thinking and wood, works of art, especially photography and film; flowers, especially orchids, seashells, metals, poems, textures and styles. He would regularly learn the history and/or science of each of his interests in addition to practicing them. He wrote a great many formal poems, tankas, enjoying the high-stakes brevity of the form, as well as its permission for humor. With nearly complete deafness toward the end of his life, he learned some ASL from his child, which made him hopeful. They all lived together for a summer in Paris, which made him hopeful, still.

He collected seashells and glass, works by photographers and silk pocket squares. He loved well-executed puns, mysteries, all manner of puzzles and games in the New York Times and the opera most of all. He and Meg attended operas and recitals together in Madrid, Chicago, Milwaukee, Madison, Minneapolis, Santa Fe, New York and Paris, and he a great many before Meg, and separately and both alongside their like-family friends, Joseph Kramer of Philadelphia, Pa., and Frances Kavenik of Kenosha, Wis.

Eric regularly enjoyed a game of 9-ball at the tournament pool table he co-owned with Meg's father, Thomas. Family and like-family who played billiards together included Gilbert Miller, Glenn Porterfield, Gary Kavanagh, all predeceasing Eric; and Joshua Kavanagh and Thomas Kavanagh, each surviving.

Departing prior to Professor Eric Rothstein were roughly 110 billion people, with his loyal dogs, Tony and Augustus Penn; his beloved family of origin, Emil, Charlotte and Carrie; and dear Ruth Bader Ginsburg among them; also Meg's uncle and Eric's friend, Garrett "Gary" Kavanagh; as well as his deeply cherished Filene's Basement: a legendary MA department store where clothing received automatic discounts after so many days on the rack. "Never pay retail and always buy quality, my mother would say," Peppo would say. Oh, we miss you.

Eric is survived by approximately seven billion people, his beloved wife, Megan Elizabeth Rothstein (nee Kavanagh), and child, Caven Flora Beatrix Charlotte Rothstein, among them; many times that in dogs, all of whom are decidedly good in Eric's eyes, his "canine compatriots," Acorn and Enzo, among them; and a loving extended family through marriage: Meg's parents, Thomas and Karen Kavanagh; Meg's brother and sister-in-law, Joshua Kavanagh and Cohni Acevedo; their son and Eric and Meg's beloved nephew, Parker; Meg's aunts, uncles and cousins and their children, including special family, Alice Kavanagh (wife of Garrett), Claudine and Daniel Kavanagh and their son, Zachary; Rebecca and Douglas Ahl and their children, Henry and Gwendolyn; and Sharon and Ronald Sly of New Lenox, Ill.

Finally, Eric had great love for his chosen family, all of whom survive him: Carrie Riddle; her daughters, Cayne Vind and Corrie Cronson; and their children, Levi, Osiris and Lilly, all of Madison, Wis.

It must be noted, Eric was also survived by his beloved San Francisco Giants during a season like no other. At the time Eric departed, the Giants were in first place but with sworn enemies, the Dodgers, way too close for his comfort. We all know how that ended.

It's decided:

We're blaming the Dodgers.

At Professor Rothstein's request, given over and over again, there will be no formal services.

Family, friends and colleagues are welcome at a celebration of life for Prof. Eric Rothstein, aka "Peppo," details TBA widely but after this pandemic. Memorials may be made to The Progress Center for Black Women and/or buy a book at A Room of One's Own Bookstore and/or support Madison Opera.

Peppo, we love you and will miss you forever.