At BU, however, Dr. Goldin drew respect from students for his exacting standards as he taught broadcast regulation and public policy.
“He paid a great deal of attention to evaluating their papers and talking with students,” Smith recalled. “He was known to be a demanding and inquiring faculty member.”
At home, meanwhile, following Barbara’s death “he was extremely tolerant of everything,” his son said. “There was never any judgment. Myself, my brother, my sister — we’ve all lived not necessarily very conventional lives.”
Dr. Goldin’s other son, Stephen, is a psychiatrist in Umea, Sweden. His daughter, Nan Goldin, who divides time between Paris and New York City, is a photographer whose much-lauded work includes subject matter that often is challenging or explicit. Several years ago, part of her exhibition “Chasing a Ghost” took as its subject her sister’s suicide.
In addition to his wife, who lives in Peabody, and his children, Dr. Goldin leaves two grandchildren.
During a eulogy delivered at his father’s service the day after Thanksgiving, Jonathan spoke of Dr. Goldin as “an introvert who … has that natural ability to screen out things he doesn’t want in favor of things he does.”
Dr. Goldin’s humor, he added, “was always in keeping with the best Jewish tradition of self-deprecation, of not taking himself too seriously.”
Weaving whimsy with a wistful look back, Dr. Goldin wrote in 1986 that “it’s a bit like an invitation to write one’s own epitaph” when alumni are asked to compose a note for a 50th class report: “Here lies Hyman Howard Goldin, lover of his wife, his daughters, his sons . . .”
Speaking of himself in the third person, he wrote that he “delighted in reading, listening to music, digging in the garden, and walking by the ocean holding hands with his wife” but “suffered grievously from circumstances that were beyond his power to master.”
And yet, Dr. Goldin added, he “could not give up hope and persisted in believing that within people there burns a spark of redeeming humaneness.”
Bryan Marquard can be reached firstname.lastname@example.org.