Dear Grouch,

Here's a page of links on you and
your work on the Shroud of Turin. It's a little sad that most people will remember you for your research on this controversial relic rather than for your breakthrough work on synthetic porphyrins... but you wouldn't be surprised, would you? 

You'd just growl something pithy (puncuated with a couple of colorful and erudite explectives) and then shuffle off to your room to hibernate with a new sci-fi or mystery novel until dinnertime. But, you'd never stop trying to learn more and answer folks' questions. :)

Love always, "Dutiful Daughter"



 

Dad's obituary (written by me
    for The Redding Pilot newspaper)


Obituary in The Danbury NewsTimes


Papers by Alan D. Adler
Concerning the Side Strip on the Shroud of Turin

Conservation of the Shroud of Turin

The Nature of the Body Images on the Shroud of Turin

List of all of STURP's papers
(including some of Dad's earliest ones)


Sites on Alan D. Adler

Shroud.Com's memoriam to Dad
   (halfway down the page)


1999 EarthFiles radio interview with Dad



Websites on The Shroud
Shroud of Turin website

Holy Shroud Guild

Holy Shroud Guild Newsletter

Council for Study of the Shroud

1999 Richmond Shroud of Turin International Research Conference

STURP article on the pollens

Evidence of Flowers on the Shroud

Authenticity of the Shroud


Photographic Archives of the Shroud

Return to Chris' hompage

Alan D. Adler bio
(based on his introduction to the
6/10/97 Shroud Press Conference)

Prof. Alan D. Adler was born in New York and is resident of Connecticut. He completed his studies at the Universities of Rochester (New York) and of Pennsylvania (Philadelphia), graduating in chemistry by this latter school.  In the last 20 years, he has taught chemistry at Western Connecticut State University in Danbury and at present he is an emeritus teacher there. He has published hundreds of articles on various arguments of chemistry and biochemistry, particularly about the chemistry of the porphyrins, describing their synthetic, analytical, chemical-physical and biological aspects. He was member of the Directive Committee of the STURP (Shroud of Turin Research Project), the association founded by the U.S.A. scientists that examined the Shroud in 1978, and at present is a member of the Directive Committee of the American Shroud of Turin Association for Research. Numerous and of capital importance are his articles about the researches on the Shroud in the fields of chemistry and of physics.
My father was a brilliant scientist and a well-loved professor, a man of staggering intelligence with near-encyclopedic knowledge of the sciences, history, mathematics, and many other subjects. He had infinite patience and time for his students at the university, and unflagging determination to pursue the investigation of that controversial mystery known as the Shroud of Turin. He was a devoted conservationist, an animal lover, and a bibliophile of epic proportions. Above all, he was a man with a wonderful sense of humor who deeply cared about his friends and family.

  He could also be a bombastic blowhard who couldn't admit when he was wrong, a surly curmudgeon, a "right bastard," a large man who bullied, ranted, and argued with my wonderful (and equally opinionated) mother about EVERYTHING, and, above all, he was LOUD. Definitely larger than life. And I very much loved the maniac.

  Maniac? Yup. What else do you call a man who slams open the bedroom door of his late-teenaged/college-aged youngest child at all hours of the day and night to blare, "Dutiful Daughter, time to take your decrepit old father a-Barnesing!"

  Dad, you see, didn't drive a car, so Mom and I helped him get the "fix" for his addiction... going to bookstores to buy more books. Specifically, in this case, it was the Barnes & Noble at the mall near my parents' home.

  On the weekends, I often went on "book jaunts" with Dad, driving him on day-long tours of antiquarian bookshops in CT. My older brother and sister somehow got out of this "duty" early on in their adulthood, but I shared Dad-driving duties with Mom.

  This practice continued after I graduated and moved out, which isn't terribly surprising since I initially moved to a house only a few miles away. I would get a klaxon phone call in the middle of the night, "There's nothing in this God-damned house to read! Take me to Barnes!" (A man with 50,000 books had nothing to read...???)

  However, he continued to call with the same imperative command when I later moved over 300 miles away, believe it or not. (I did NOT comply, of course. My ensuing explanations as to WHY this was kind of difficult, and his blithe refusal to accept inconsequential details like time and spatial inconveniences, were always... amusing.)

  Am I complaining? Nope. Not at all. I loved driving Dad to bookstores and losing myself in the stacks, just like he did. It was fun! I loved asking him a question about the college or the Shroud or anything, and then listening to him non-stop rant about it... not that we didn't ever have interesting conversations of normal decibel levels, mind you!

  This is the man who made the most delicious pancakes and popovers on Sunday mornings, always without a recipe. This is the man who put an Alan Dean Foster paperback in my hands when I was six years old, thus introducing me to a life-long, shared love of science fiction and fantasy.

  And this is the man who pushed aside the dean when I graduated from college and personally handed me my diploma with a HUGE, proud smile on his face.

  I've missed him terribly since he died, and there's a great void in my life at his passing. However, I'm grateful that he no longer suffers from the ongoing pain from his heel spur, from his sinus problems, from his irritation and frustration with the boneheads and dorkazoids of the world.

  Two months ago, on the first anniversary of his death, I finally kicked my depressed self in the butt, slid a videotape of one of Dad's lectures in the VCR, and began laughing myself silly at hearing his much-missed bellow, "There's no laboratory test for Christ-ness!"

  This page is for you, Grouch. Thanks for being my father.

   Love, Chris

2001 Chris P. Adler
visitors since August 2001
Alan D. Adler and The Shroud of Turin