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Shane M. Wallace, died of brain cancer on Tuesday, October 9, 2007, at his home in Greenwich, Conn. He was 38. Shane is survived by his wife, Dana, and his son, James. A full obituary will appear in a future issue of Dartmouth Alumni Magazine and will be posted here.

 

Michael D. Kolman Jr.

Dartmouth Alumni Magazine, June 1999

Michael David Kolman Jr. died November 13, 1998, near his home in Woodside, Calif., from injuries sustained in an automobile accident. Mike grew up in St. Louis, Mo., and attended Parkway Central High School. At Dartmouth he majored in economics and was a member of Alpha Chi Alpha fraternity. After graduating cum laude, Mike worked as a financial analyst at Salomon Brothers, an investment banking firm in New York City. In 1995 he earned an M.B.A. from Stanford University and then served as mergers and acquisitions analyst at Montgomery Securities in San Francisco. Until his untimely death, Mike was president of Records Search, a pre-employment screening company in Los Gatos, Calif. He is survived by his wife, Kristina, parents Michael '64 and Carolyn, and a sister and brother.

Ninety-Ones Upon a Time, March 1999

On November 21, more than 40 Dartmouth grads traveled to St. Louis, MO, to attend the funeral of Mike Kolman, who was killed in a freak car accident on his way home from work in the afternoon of the 13th. As John Barker writes, "the weekend in St. Louis was filled with tears as we attempted to support his wife Tina and his family but also with fond memories of Mike's character and friendship." Steve Hunt '92—Mike's little brother at AXA, and his grad school roommate—gave the eulogy at the funeral and he has allowed us to reprint a slightly edited version of it here:

"The last time I saw many of the people in this room was under quite different circumstances. Mike's friends from all over the country were gathered to celebrate the greatest day of his life—his marriage to Tina. Today, obviously, nothing is the same, except for our reason for coming together: to celebrate and honor one of the greatest men we have ever known.

"For those of you who were not fortunate enough to know Mike well, I'd like to tell you about his background. Mike was born and raised here in St. Louis. He attended Parkway Central High School where he excelled in tennis and his studies. Mike then chose to follow in the footsteps of his father by enrolling at Dartmouth, a place he loved dearly. It was at Dartmouth that Mike dubbed himself 'The Bone,' a name many of us still know him by today. Mike joined AXA and within the walls of that Magic Green Cottage formed some of the most meaningful friendships that can exist among men.

"Mike had a spectacular academic career at Dartmouth, graduating cum laude with a major in economics and a minor in raging. While at Dartmouth, Mike was selected to attend Oxford University as part of the honors program in Economics. At Oxford, Mike took up boxing, and although he had the self-proclaimed 'strongest right in the free world,' his tortoise-like speed handicapped him somewhat. Brits were lined up for miles to take their shot at this American punching bag.

"After Oxford, Mike landed one of the most sought-after jobs on Wall Street: an analyst's position at Salomon Brothers. There Mike served as the point man for enormous investment banking deals involving some of the largest corporations in America. He was rewarded for his successes by being named the top analyst in his class and was selected to train his future successors.

"Mike's hard work and intelligence earned him a spot in one of the top business schools in the country: The Stanford Graduate School of Business. At Stanford, Mike breezed through his courses and found plenty of time to cultivate his interest in the good life. Here, many more lasting friendships were born. Most especially, it was at Stanford where Mike met the woman of his dreams. And that was no small order. Within weeks of meeting Tina, Mike knew they were destined for marriage. It happened two years later in Santa Barbara. Mike's life was finally complete.

"Mike's love for and happiness with Tina came easily, but his success in business came only with his hard work, charisma, and savvy. Shortly after graduating from Stanford, Mike purchased a security research firm that, after only three years in his hands, was recently named the 22nd fastest-growing business in Northern California. At 29, everything in his life was perfect, until the unfair tragedy that took his life.

"It is difficult to express my respect and love for Mike with words. No degree, rank, position, or dollar value can quantify Mike's gifts to those who knew him. His goodness cannot be measured in numbers, but in knowing and spending time with him. The unbelievable number of people who dropped everything in their lives to mourn him and be with him at his funeral is a testament to his human spirit.

"Mike's smile was contagious, but part of Mike's charm was in his attempt to maintain a crass, salty exterior. It was a transparent disguise and his smile was always there—just under the surface of his feigned stern countenance. His smile made us all feel good.

"Mike was also full of bravado and would often proclaim his greatness after accomplishing some feat he deemed difficult—usually by shouting his name to the world: 'The Bone!' Not a day has gone buy over the past several years that one of Mike's anecdotes doesn't pass through my mind and bring a smile to my face. Even during the time of mourning, stories of Mike abounded and we all couldn't help but laugh and shake our heads.

"Mike brought joy to everyone around him and people gravitated toward him. We all wanted to be his friend. Mike's loyalty and love of his family and friends is why so many of us attended his funeral. Many of us met and formed lasting relationships with one another because of Mike. The one thing we all have in common is that we are extremely proud to call him our friend.

"We are among the luckiest people on earth to have shared our lives with Mike, even if it was for a relatively short time. His legacy of joy, laughter, and love will live on in all of us for the rest of our lives. Mike played a large roll in forming who many of us are today. We must allow this legacy to be the first step toward mending our tired spirits. There is no magic remedy or words that can heal our wounds—only time. All we can do is be there for one another and keep the memories of Michael David Kolman alive in our hearts forever."

 

Kirsten Ruth Lorentzen

Dartmouth Alumni Magazine, May/June 2003

Kirsten Ruth Lorentzen passed away on December 28, 2002, as a result of unexpected complications from the treatment of lymphoma. Kirsten grew up in Sunnyvale, California, and graduated from Wilcox High School in Santa Clara. At Dartmouth she graduated magna cum laude with a B.A. in physics, was a members of Casque & Gauntlet and the Nordic ski team and participated in the music FSP program in London. Following graduation she served in the Peace Corps in Punta Gorda, Belize. Kirsten earned a Ph.D. in geophysics at the University of Washington and worked as a research scientist at The Aerospace Corp. in El Segundo, California. Her research on magnetospheric phenomena took her to the Arctic and Antarctic, where instruments she helped to design, build and test are used. Kirsten is survived by her husband, Michael Loverude, son Jasper, parents Grace and Einar Lorentzen, brother Peter '93 and her extended family.

Ninety-Ones Upon a Time, February 2003

Kirsten filled her life with family, community service, sports, music, and science. She grew up mainly in Sunnyvale, California, and also lived on Kwajelein, Marshall Islands from 1976-1979. Kirsten valued her Norwegian roots and went to live with her grandmother in Norway for a year in high school. After receiving her BA in physics from Dartmouth College in 1991, she served in the Peace Corps, teaching high school science in Punta Gorda, Belize. She earned a PhD in Geophysics at the University of Washington in 1999, and worked as a research scientist at The Aerospace Corporation in El Segundo. Her research on the northern lights and other magnetospheric phenomena took her to the Arctic and to the Antarctic, using instruments she helped to design, build, and test.

Kirsten loved the outdoors and being active. She ran on the cross-country and track teams in high school and joined the cross-country ski team in college. After college she continued to hike, bike, run, and ski regularly. She played the French horn in bands, orchestras, and quintets starting from age eleve n. She valued community service, and tutored children in Seattle and Long Beach.

Kirsten's passing was sudden and unexpected, the result of complications of treatment for lymphoma. She is survived by her husband Michael Loverude and their son Jasper; her parents, Grace and Einar Lorentzen; her brother, Peter; her parents-in-law, Jan and Les Loverude; and her sister-in-law, Jennifer Loverude.

If you wish to honor Kirsten's memory, a scholarship fund for women scientists has been established in her name. Donations can be sent to AWIS Educational Foundation, Barbara Filner, Ph.D., President, 7008 Richard Drive, Bethesda, MD, 20817. Other groups that Kirsten supported included the Sierra Club, the National Organization for Women, Habitat for Humanity, and any efforts at sustainable living. If you prefer, give your time to children in your community, or plant a tree. With Kirsten's passing, there is less good in the world. Together we can all make up for that loss.

 

David Patrick O'Brien

Dartmouth Alumni Magazine, January 1999

David Patrick O'Brien died September 12, 1998, in Mumbai, India, of pneumonia. He came to Dartmouth from Canisius High School in Kenmore, N.Y., and immersed himself in programs run by the Tucker Foundation, such as Book Buddies, prison tutoring, food drives, and AIDS Awareness Week. He was one of the founders of Student Fighting Hunger. After completing a term in environmental studies in Kenya, he worked at Mother Teresa's mission in Nairobi. David served as the New Hampshire coordinator for the National Campaign Against Hunger and Homelessness. A presidential scholar, Dave was a member of C&G and the DOC. Upon graduation he was awarded the Grace and James S. Pakes 1920 Prize. He served for a year as Dartmouth's volunteer coordinator and then attended the Fletcher School for a master's degree focused on food aid in diplomacy. Following graduation he worked with CARE in South Sudan and Somalia. He is survived by his mother and stepfather, Patricia and David Twist, three sisters, and two brothers.

Ninety-Ones Upon a Time, December 1998

So you're sitting at home mired in the irritating minutia of life. Your significant other is acting kind of weird, they're replacing Jimmy Smits with Rick Schroder on NYPD Blue, your boss is oblivious to your obvious genius, and then there's that awfully unpleasant woman--you know the one--who you have to deal with over and over because she's married to a friend. No matter how many times anyone says "Cheer up!", it doesn't quite do it, nor are mentions of real horror--Kosovo, the Middle East, Sudan--anywhere near reality for you...Then you hear about something tragic--and accessibly so, something that happens to someone with whom you have a connection, someone that could be you!!! (except maybe they're twice the guy that you are)--and it slaps you awake and out of your miasma of self-pity.

I'm thinking here of the fact that one of our noblest classmates died a few months ago. Dave O'Brien died September 12, 1998 in Mumbai, India, of an unknown respiratory virus. I know that the class newsletter is known for smug snide snarkiness, but everything about to follow about Dave is true and heartfelt, and I hope you will take it that way.

By now you may have read the standard bio: In Hanover, the Buffalo native immersed himself in programs run by the Tucker Foundation. The founder of one of the largest Tucker organiza- tions, Students Fighting Hunger, he also coordinated several campus-wide Hunger and Homelessness Awareness Weeks. He also served as a big brother to children at the Haven.

After completing a term in environmental studies in Kenya, David worked at Mother Theresa's mission in Nairobi. He returned to Dartmouth and served as the New Hampshire state-coordinator for the National Campaign Against Hunger and Homelessness. He was a member of C&G, the DOC, and Ledyard. Upon graduation he was awarded the Grace and James S. Park 1920 Prize, present- ed to one graduating senior with a demonstrated record of concern for others.

Dave served for a year as Dartmouth's Volunteer Coordinator and then biked across the United States, writing a manual that analyzed community service programs at American universities. David attended the Fletcher School for his Masters, focusing on food aid in diplomacy. While at Fletcher, he biked through Belize, Honduras, Guatamala, and Mexico to raise money for the preservation of the rain forest. Following graduation he worked with CARE in South Sudan and Nairobi, documenting the sleeping disease epidemic brought on by civil war. Grants that he wrote procured medicine and funding from the World Health Organization. In July of this year he flew to India to take up a Rotary Fellowship at the Tata Institute, where he examined food distribution in India. He never returned.

Be not content with the commonplace in character any more than with the commonplace in ambition or intellectual attainment. Do not expect that you will make any lasting or very strong impression on the world through intellectual power, without the use of an equal amount of conscience and heart. - Quote by William Jewett Tucker, carried by David on his travels

Laura Donohue was a close friend of Dave's, and I've asked her to recount what he was like. The next few pages are by Laura.

Shortly after graduation, in November 1991, David wrote:

Finally, after 2-3 weeks of task-oriented, ten-hour workdays I've got some thought back in me. I'm shattering some important crystal perceptions of myself and society and America and I'm trying to put them back together again, throwing away pieces I don't want or need and finding other pieces missing. Todays been a nice break in that process but tomorrow nights Dartmouth Community Services (DCS) Council Meeting promises to put me back into confusion mode. We are having Rabbi Marshall Meyer '52, a human rights activist in Argentina for 26 years, come talk with us. We did it a couple weeks ago and it lasted from 8 until the last of us left at midnight. It shook up quite a few task do-ers among the Council (those who organize and administer without really seeing their work in a larger perspective or asking themselves why?). I think that's great - that's really what we need right now in my opinion: to ask why? And why? And how? And why? And we are moving in that direction, thinking more slowly and surely. To me, that's exciting and invigorating. (Sure I've had some people leave my office in the middle of a conversation because they were offended, but it was nothing a 5-page apology letter didn't solve.) In talking with Frank Tull tonight I used an analogy to explain the difficulty of self-discovery. I said it was like digging a hole in the desert and with every two scoops emptied from the hole one of them is due to the walls caving in. Its overwhelming, frustrating, hurtful at times, but if the walls didnt come down and make the hole wider then they would be too constricting once the digging got deep. The DCS programs are going generally well. Housing and Homelessness has taken off and so has a weatherproofing/insulation project called Patchworkers I've been thinking a lot about what I want to do next year. I think the answer is going to be either: (a) Central America, (b) homeless/runaway children in an inner city or (c) biking around the United States. This last idea has captured my imagination quite strongly these past two weeks. I'm not sure how or why but there are quite a few dimensions to my trip that excite me: developing a presentation on hunger for colleges, schools, and community groups, seeing America and its national parks, learning how to play grand piano (I'd tow it behind me). Whaddayathink?...It'll probably be a logistical nightmare in many ways, but I'm pretty good with logistics. And I'm good with dreaming big. So why not, I ask you, why not?

And why not... Dave began the cross-country bike tour with a light heart. During his first month he stopped at a 7-11 and Xeroxed himself smiling so I could see the new teeth he had just gotten. On the back he wrote a lively account of his adventures, punctuated by comments about the programs at the universities and the poverty he had seen. At night he slept at universities and on the streets, talking to homeless people and educating himself on the issues they faced. My mom's second-grade class charted Daves progress across America, with a large map in the classroom and WHERE IS DAVE? written across the top. From the states through which he passed, he sent post cards, which the children pinned to the board, and when he finally arrived in California they were delighted.

Dave was fascinated by different cultures and longed to immerse himself in the pan- oply of colors, languages, sights, and sounds of Southeast Asia, Africa, and Central and South America. He saw his future as being in places such as India, Kenya, South Sud- an, Somalia, Mexico, Belize, Honduras, and Guatemala--places where he hoped he could make a difference. On 19 August 1997 Dave wrote of his coming adventures:

More than graduation - an anticlamatic event in a silly gown - leaving Fletcher was the clear cut-off point for three wonderful years of school. My nerve to leave was a bit more substantial, though, as Ill be heading into southern Sudan in another two weeks for about five months (of course, it might be less, based on the war). Either way, its going to be a tough, sparse assignment that I expect will challenge me in unanticipated ways. That has me both nervous and excited. (Note: should you talk with my mom, do not mention Sudan is in the midst of a civil war. I dont think she knows and for the life of me I cant seem to find a reason why she should find out.)

It wasn't always easy, but he believed in what he was doing, and this conviction always came first. On Christmas Day 1997, he wrote:

I'm back in the Sudan for three weeks to do another assessment. I was in Nairobi for five weeks to write a report and a grant proposal and undergo a little training in project monitoring and evaluation. It was nice, but Nairobi gets a bit staid after a month. Not having many friends there means lots of reading and nights in the hotel alone, which is worth it on the whole, but still temporarily tiresome. Christmas here was well, different. We went to midnight mass in a small mud and grass chapel packed with people and mosquitoes. It was in Dinka, and the singing and chanting and drums were sublime. We must have arrived late because after 20 minutes it was over. As we went out into the night everyone was whispering about the kawaja (Arabic and Dinka for white person) and I was astounded at the dozens of mosquito nets set up like white boxed right next to the church. Everyone there has traveled far for the service. I'm doing well here - I'm perfectly safe because there's little fighting now, and because the UN can evacuate us within 2 hours of a radio call. Lots of AK-47s, but CARE gets along well with the SPLA and they are pretty well-disciplined here. Our work is coming along well, but this civil war really hurts what can be done to help restore Sudanese livelihoods. Until its over the suffering will continue.

He followed with another missive on 1 January, discussing the situation and softening the picture with humor:

I'm sitting here in South Sudandoing economics, and I really enjoy it. I've spent two months in Bor county before coming here and they are completely different places. Here in Tambura, near the CAR and Zaire/DRC border, markets exist, people are clothed, and the SRRA (the SPLMs humanitarian arm) goes with you wherever you go. In Bor, the traditional livelihoods have been eviscerated by the war, half the people are naked, and the Dinka people had rockin' dances for seven days straight at Christmastime. In both places you can get malaria, but in Bor you get bilharzia (bad, but not lethal), while Tambura has a sleeping sickness epidemic (case fatality rate if left untreated: 100%). Tambura is also closer to Sudan's proven cases of Ebola, but Bor has an anti-SPLA rebel group periodically attacking. Oh, the fun comparisons just go on and on, but in all fairness I think both places are a helluva lot nicer than Seattle! I'll be here well, in Kenya, 'til April. Ive just been hired for two months to write CARE Somalia/South Sudan's disaster Preparedness Plan, which you need if you're going to work in Sudan and Somalia. Then I'm back in the United States for a few months til I go to India in June.

Dave was always ready to discuss or debate--or skinny-dip in the river. I picture him with flour on his face on Halloween, digging pennies out of floured plates; I see him hiking up the AT to roast hot dogs on a frozen trail; I see him canoeing in the Connecticut River, leading Dartmouth hiking trips, singing up at Mt. Moussilake, and walking around Occom Pond at three in the morning, sipping from those gallon-size 'Dartmouth Recycles' mugs as he contemplated how many papers he had to write before the morning.

I see him on Homecoming night, bringing chicken soup and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to my room to cheer me, as I lay in bed with torn ligaments in my ankle. I see him running to meet me in Boston airport during a 45-minute layover, and I hear him after my father's death, calling every day for two weeks to see how I was doing. I picture him ushering at the Hop, standing on the chairs at the Indigo Girls' concert, and sitting at the top of the stadium at night.

I see him at my wedding, carrying my train as we ran together down the street to see my grandmother, with him exclaiming that it was the first time he had ever lifted a woman's dress over his head in public. I see him pretending to be Scottish to the photographer, who kept whipping out pictures of his honeymoon in the highlands some 25 years before, in an effort to convince Dave that he loved Dave's homeland. I picture him switching places with Timmy Hodsdon back and forth before walking up the aisle with candles, the two of them laughing when Vera whacked them and told them to behave. I see him as Master of Ceremonies, beginning the reception by thanking the two people without whom the wedding would not have been possible: he and Timmy--for passing out the programs and seating people. I see him dancing and laughing and joking and teasing and making faces and inspiring everyone to enjoy life. I remember his crush on Debbie Gibson--who he called "the Gibber"--and his proposal, upon finding out that his baseball cards were worth some money, that he start up a Social Activists card collection. "Get that 1953 Ghandi card? I'll give you the limited edition MLK Jr. 'I Have a Dream' card and 2 '88 Caesar Chavezs," he wrote.

Thoreau stated in Walden that he went to the woods to live life more deeply, to live more fully, and not to discover when he had died that he had not really lived at all. Dave's life has been tragically cut short - there are so many things he still wanted to do, and the world was before him. But those years that he did live he lived deeply, and he lived fully--and I feel lucky to have known him at all.

--Laura K. Donohue