Memorial Tribute ― Larry Shubert ― April 22, 2005

We are all wrestling in our own ways to make sense of Doug’s sudden and tragic death. I am still in shock and denial avoiding the painful emotions knocking at my door. I feel like I am in a room that is cold, dark, eerily still and hazy. A second ago Doug was there lighting up the room with his charm and energetic personality. It was warm, bright, and boisterous, and it seemed like it would go on forever. However, in the blink of an eye it all changed ...

Doug and I first became friends in high school. I have vivid memories of Doug showing up late for Mr. Enns’ math class. He was often covered head to toe in his vinyl wrestling suit under his clothes trying to sweat off a couple pounds in preparation for the upcoming wrestling meet. Although he seemed a bit crazed as he entered the room, he always whipped out solutions at the chalk board with the reassuring and endearing “good job” punch in the arm from Mr. Enns.

Doug and I both headed west to Stanford and lived together for 3 years. Doug always was an inspiration to me. He was a close friend with a listening ear and a quick wit. While being one of the brightest people I know, he was modest, unpretentious, open minded, warm, engaging, passionate, committed, and driven by a strong moral and social conscience that permeated all aspects of his life. He always had a strong yearning to challenge life’s injustices―Doug strove to make a difference.

Doug and Sherry were perfect partners. Both strong willed, bright and independent―Sherry had her feet on the ground while Doug often had his head in the clouds. We had always kidded Doug about his absent mindedness that sent him is search of his keys and wallet on a daily basis. Finally there was someone to help navigate and keep track of Doug’s personal affects. I remember Doug’s excitement upon learning that I was getting married, and the dinner he and Sherry gave us to celebrate the joys of marriage. Doug and Sherry were blessed with two exceptional children with beautiful big bright eyes like their mother and smiles that light up the room like their father.

My wife Julie and I were saddened when the Passaro/Nordstrom clan decided to head back to the mid-West, and we have missed them. I appreciate through this tragic loss the importance of seeing friends no matter how busy our lives are and staying in touch no matter where we all live, and I am so glad we shared the times together that we did. I feel very fortunate to have spent time with Doug at our recent 20 year Stanford reunion this past fall. He was his typical vibrant self and I enjoyed our brief but intense conversations about life, family and careers. I distinctly recall our last conversation a couple months ago. He called me during his evening commute to check in and see how things were going with my start-up business. He reiterated his support and offered to make an investment in the company if that would help. This was typical Doug― encouraging and always offering his assistance.

It is very hard for me to accept that that was my last conversation with him. I know we are all struggling with the fact that we did not have a chance to say good bye. Yet again, at this difficult time, I gain strength in Doug’s compassion and resolve. I know that he would want us to celebrate and be inspired by his life. I feel fortunate to have been close friends over many years and I have many wonderful memories that will keep Doug’s spirit alive.

In the end, I am left with one significant question―What can I do in my life now that would make Doug proud?