CLASS OF 1972 | 2024 | SUMMER ISSUE

Bob Medwid passed away this past Christmas Day, of a heart attack following some episodes of angina. In a lengthy chain of email correspondence among Delta Tau brothers and football teammates, the words “really good guy” recurred frequently, and I heartily concur. The always quotable Mike Carlson went further: “What a blow at the end of a tough year. I bonded with Bob early in freshman football, his end at East Meadow was a Carlson. He matured early: he might have been at his peak with the dirty dozen and a half. He was a perfectly controlled athlete in basketball, too, on our two intramural winners, and, of course, he was soon a married father too. As I matured very little, he was always a laconic counterpoint for me, and I wish I could remember where we started calling him ‘Hammer’ and if I was there, cause it fit so well. We didn’t see each other but a couple of times the rest of the way, but it was always a mature joy, and I could visualize him on the golf course every day, playing calm, collected, perfect golf. It’s hard to think of his going at all, much less that way.”

And this from Mike Kishbauch ’71: “Michael referenced our ragtag intramural Delt basketball team, which somehow managed to win two championships. My recollection is that happened because (1) Carlson stayed hot for two full seasons, throwing in Steph Curry bombs from all over Hell’s half acre (amid howls of protest from the rest of us) and (2) Medwid was easily the best pure passer of anyone I ever played hoops with, perfecting the no-look thing way before it became fashionable. I vividly remember my first game as Dwid’s basketball teammate. Because of my size (size, not height) I normally played center or low-post forward. At one moment, I found myself toggling back and forth in the low-post paint, with five or six guys (theirs and ours) between Bobby and me. Suddenly, without looking vaguely in my direction, he whips this pass threading between everyone, and it hits me square in the nose, nearly knocking me senseless. Whereupon . . . memo to Bowser: it appears there is NO pass this kid is unwilling to attempt, and it also seems like most/all of them will be on the mark; therefore, stay awake, lest you end up looking foolish; further, and for God’s sake, do NOT watch his eyes . . . they mean NOTHING in this context; just assume he’s watching you and nobody gets hurt! I miss him already. God knows he never missed me! . . .  RIP.”

I should also add that Bob was particularly helpful to my wife, Elisa ’76, when she entered the Peat Marwick training program after graduation. Bob was a veteran of the program and always kept an eye out for Wes folk.

Another loss, although not from our class, but another good friend and Delta Tau brother, was that of Dave Moffenbeier ’73.  Moff fought tenaciously against a vicious form of cancer for over 20 years before leaving us in February. I have particularly fond memories of visiting Moff while he was living in Holland in the ’80s.

Finally, I mourn the passing of my thesis tutor, mentor, and friend, Herb Arnold. I sent him a note of condolence on the death of his idol, Franz Beckenbauer, only to receive a note from his wife, Annemarie, telling me that Herb left us on the very same day. I had kept in touch with Herb, taking two Wasch Center seminars with him on medieval literature. A brilliant mind, a passionate and fervent soul, in many ways he epitomized what was the Wesleyan experience for many of us.

We just learned of the death of Bud Spurgeon on May 3. Bud’s memory will live on through his iconic photographs of the events of May 1970. He was also a major contributor to our legendary 50th Reunion and the ongoing class website. Those of us who worked with him in those efforts are greatly saddened by his passing. I will have more to say in the next issue.

I’ll try for better news next time.