He climbed to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro in December 2002, and I was reminded of Hemingway’s reflections of finding a dead leopard high upon the slopes of that fabled mountain, wondering what the leopard was seeking at that altitude.

There was an intellectual restlessness in Steve Pasternack that led him up the slopes.

As his friend and professional colleague, I had the privilege of working with him on research papers and during the departmental quest for national accreditation. We became friends despite our different backgrounds and outlooks – he the cosmopolite, and I the provincial New Mexican native.

Because there was nothing I could teach him about journalism, my contribution was in teaching him the basics of pistol shooting, a traditional New Mexico skill.

For many years our offices have been side by side, and our banter and political debating was continuous, often in raised voices while we sat at our respective computer terminals. More than that, his office was open for students who were always studying for the next media law test, and he took delight in conversations with students.

Away from campus, nothing characterized Steve’s adventurous spirit than his marathon bicycle trips, always meticulously planned, and always involving a route over some grueling terrain. His trips took him all over the United States and into Canada. It was only when his sequential Fulbright awards and State Department assignments took him more frequently overseas that these foreign adventures took the place of bicycle trips.

It was always exhilarating to discuss with him the tall grass justice of Rwanda, the replacement of Communist institutions in Latvia, or the seemingly insoluble ethnic conflicts of Kosovo.

Yet, this guy from New York was perfectly at home with a plate of enchiladas at Dick’s Café in Las Cruces. He often invited me for such a “debriefing” lunch at a randomly chosen local eatery. During his years as department head from 1994 to 2002, Steve was an ideal supervisor, setting an example for his staff as well as encouraging them to excellence. When our positions were reversed in 2002, we continued to work closely together, unfazed by status inversion.

On this hot day in June, as the telephone still rings and email messages continue to flow from all over the nation, I am more fully aware of Steve’s impact on his students and his colleagues everywhere.

The growing reputation of the department he chaired is also a memorial to his excellence. Steve was a respected presence in journalism education, both regionally and nationally, and his voice was always heard on campus through his terms on the Faculty Senate at NMSU, and his tireless work on college committees.

Of course it is easier to write about the loss the department will feel than of the personal loss his departure represents for me. The time we spent together was always productive, energizing, and intellectually stimulating.

Steve’s remarkable talent for absorbing the signature of foreign cultures, and his ability to learn their languages was translated into the insight he shared with me and his other associates, both faculty and students. Over the years, as we talked, I sensed that Steve required constant challenge and mental stimulation in order to make use of his exceptional skills and knowledge.

While in his office, he was constantly on the phone to Washington, arranging yet another seminar in Kigali or booking a flight to Riga. There was a sense of gaining altitude in all that he attempted.

Like the spirit of Hemingway’s leopard, somewhere in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro, Steve must have found what he was seeking. Ever upward.