TOM SMITH WILL BE REMEMBERED BY MANY
By Rey Roldan	Tom and Rey in the Bahamas, Spring 1989

Thomas Michael Smith, my best friend and roommate, passed away last Friday from what had been diagnosed last August as lymphoma, a cancer that spreads incredibly quick and mercilessly.

Tom was one of those types of people who always looked optimistically at sometimes rather pessimistic situations and always made the best of it.  For the last six months, he never let on just how serious his bout with cancer was.  He just brushed off the depressing news and talked about how he was psyched about the future, when this was all over.

Tom wasn't one of those faceless people you meet everyday.  He always had a genuine spark of charm, wit, and basic good-nature about him.  Even a brief encounter with him would leave a mark on you that isn't easily forgotten.  If you asked Tom how he was doing on any given day, he would tell you everything including a play-by-play description of the game that he saw, the hamburger that he ate wasn't quite as big as Wendy's but bigger than Burger King's and was as skinny as White Castle's but tasted like cardboard, etc., and how much homework he had to do, but was going to do it "later" because he had a lot of other stuff to do, like put up posters or rearrange his photo collage.

His strange passion for speaking incessantly about anything was his trademark, his gift.  He could talk for hours about his favorite Budget Gourmet entrees (Chicken Fettucine and Pepper Steak), about how much he hates the word "frequent" as a verb, or how much he loves to sleep.  Usually he told you these things when you were already late for class or work, trying to get to sleep, or watching your favorite movies.  His sense of timing was slightly off, but that's what made him Tom.

But, I think the main thing that I'm going to miss about him is his friendship.  Tom was the epitome of a best friend and practically everyone that he knew would tell you the same.  Regardless of his own commitments, he'd sacrifice everything if you needed help.  When he found out that I didn't have a ride back up to Boston, he drove down to New Jersey to pick me up.  He sacrificed his calculus final to drive his friend Patty to South Station.  And he sacrificed his worries and fears to give his friends a sense of hope for the future when he would be healthy again.  He never let on the truth of how much the cancer was deteriorating his health and how fast it was spreading.  In typical Tom fashion, he stared into the face of danger and laughed, and laughed as hard as he could.  He didn't want to be remembered as being weak in any way, and he succeeded.  His physical strength wasn't enough to conquer his cancer, but the strength of his friendship lives on in all of whom he had come in contact.

It would be a gross understatement to say that I'm going to miss him, but the fact is I'm going to miss him... more than I can imagine.

Thomas Michael Smith
A&S '91
September 29, 1969 - January 11, 1991