Tom and Dottie visited my parents briefly when we were living in Mashad, Iran in the late sixties. More than three decades have passed but one of the incidents of the visit has left an indelible impression in my memory. I was just learning to read and was asked to give a class in Persian to someone who was obviously, as far as penmanship and reading were concerned, in worse shape than myself. When it was Tom's turn to read the text in question I recall his struggle to sound out the aleph, nun, aleph, reh that spell the word for pomegranate in Persian. I remember shouting the word out, happy to be aiding a fellow student and also because I couldn't bear the suspense any longer. Immediately following my gaffe I was reminded that the whole point of the lesson was for the pupil, in this case Tom, to read the lesson on his own. We repeated the exercise several times with the same results: the same suspense, my showing off by blurting the answer, the same straight, if slightly injured look from Tom. The reaction of the grown-ups who were chiding me but who also seemed to be very amused by the proceedings is part of the vividness of this memory. My next opportunity to meet with Tom was when we--my parents, my three siblings and I-- moved in to live in his house, hurrying out of Iran following the Islamic revolution of '78. Tom's sense of humor, his openness to people and to new experiences, his enjoyment at acquiring and imparting knowledge were, I realized on second viewing, part and parcel of his personality.

Somewhat disoriented by the speed at which our lives had changed we were, even upon our arrival in Berkeley, aware of our good fortune in having supportive friends to ease the blow of exile. Our settling down to stability and routine have since allowed us to better appreciate our astounding good luck in having Tom and Dottie take us under their wings when they did. I look back on that charmed period of our arrival frequently and with great fondness. The support and nurturing that we received from Tom and Dottie were practically limitless. Imagine being in over your head, as I found myself, in high school math and having a seismology professor demystify periodic functions during a brief sectional at breakfast. Similarly by providing guidance over such matters as choosing classes and the other intricacies of dealing with the BUSD Dottie was in-house counselor (and cheerleader) for us all.

Many years later during a tough year in graduate school I bumped into Tom in LBNL where I was looking for a lecture. When Tom asked how I was doing I recited a litany of woes related to my studies, wondering if I was going to actually finish and get out. Tom's response was a quick and reassuring: "You'll be fine"; whereupon he tapped my shoulder and was off with his energetic gait, touching me literally and figuratively with the positive energy that was his defining trait. I feel fortunate (blessed may be a better word) for every time my path have crossed with Tom's during the years. Looking back I realize that a lot of my memories of Tom were of critical junctures in my formal studies from grade school to graduate school. This is entirely in keeping with Tom's gifts as a first-rate teacher. I value these memories, greatly.

Happy Journeys, Tom. You are sorely missed.