The phrase "office hours" took on an entirely different meaning with Tommy. If someone had been missing for hours, was late for supper, or otherwise unaccounted for, all they had to say was, "I stopped by Tommy's office." No further explanation was needed. A quick question rarely stayed quick. Conversations often lasted far longer than intended, usually reaching the point where you forgot why you had stopped in to begin with. What started as a simple discussion would evolve into a lesson on science, history, problem-solving, and life itself.

Tommy's mentoring, teaching, and habit of thinking out loud were a continuous education for everyone fortunate enough to work with him. There was no such thing as a simple answer from Tommy. What seemed like a straightforward question often became a thoughtful conversation, and he had a remarkable ability to make you reconsider things you thought you understood. No matter how full his schedule was, he always found time to be a mentor first.

One of Tommy's happiest places was the swine farm. During the planning and construction of the facility, it is obvious he devoted himself to every detail, from the overall design to the smallest decisions that others never notice. Those details continue to serve the facility every day. And if you happened to overlook one of them, as we have all done, Tommy was ready to explain the reason behind those details. A casual mention of a proposed modification could quickly become a fascinating lesson on why a section of concrete was angled a certain way, who influenced the direction of a door swing, or why a particular grade of stainless steel had been selected. His knowledge was not only extensive but rooted in purpose and experience.

I have never met anyone who combined such deep academic knowledge with such practical wisdom. I have never met anyone who was so productive, yet so willing to set aside his own work to mentor others. And I have never met someone who pursued excellence in research with such intensity while caring so deeply about the well-being of the people around him. I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to learn from him, work alongside him, and to be able to call him a friend. His influence will continue to be felt in the facilities he helped build, the research he advanced, and most importantly, the countless people he taught, mentored, and inspired.

Forever grateful, Jamie Reichert

I still remember my early years as an assistant professor. Whenever we met, Tom would greet me with his warm smile and ask how my research and teaching were going, and how I was progressing toward tenure. These may have seemed like simple conversations, but to a young faculty member navigating the challenges and uncertainties of an academic career, they meant a great deal. I could always feel that Tom genuinely cared about me and wanted me to succeed. His encouragement gave me confidence, and his kindness reminded me that I was not alone.

One memory that will always stay with me is how Tom helped me develop my Animal Growth and Development course. Knowing his expertise in bone biology, I once asked whether he would be willing to serve as a guest instructor for the section on bone tissue development and growth. I can still picture his reaction. His face lit up with excitement, and he immediately agreed. He was genuinely delighted to help, as though I had offered him an opportunity rather than asked him for a favor.

What happened next was far beyond anything I had expected.

Tom took the two lectures I had originally developed and expanded them into three, making the content much richer and more comprehensive. But what touched me most was the time, care, and dedication he put into this work. He treated my course as if it were his own. Over several months, we went back and forth, discussing what to include, what to change, and how to make the lectures better. He would ask, "What do you think about adding this?" or "Do you think this would work?" Despite his extensive knowledge and experience, he never imposed his ideas. He always respected my thoughts and wanted us to make decisions together.

There was one small detail that I will never forget. Whenever Tom kept any of my original slides in his revised lectures, he made sure to acknowledge that they came from me. He was the senior professor, generously sharing his expertise and doing so much to improve my course, yet he never overlooked my contributions. It was such a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about his humility, professionalism, and genuine respect for a junior colleague. He valued others and their work, regardless of their experience or position.

During those months, he also generously helped me improve other parts of the course. And his commitment did not end there. What began as a simple request for a guest lecture became five years of teaching that section of my course. Year after year, Tom returned with the same enthusiasm and dedication.

Just two days before Tom passed away, we were still communicating about his guest lectures for this semester. He was scheduled to begin teaching that Thursday, only days after we lost him.

It is still difficult for me to think about that. But in many ways, this memory captures who Tom was. Teaching, sharing his knowledge, and helping others were never simply obligations to him. They were things he genuinely loved. He gave his time and energy so generously, right up to the very end.

Tom brought that same spirit of generosity to research. When I first joined the department, he enthusiastically introduced me to several of his pig models and encouraged me to use them whenever they might benefit my research. Over the years, whenever he had new tissues, animal models, or interesting findings, he would reach out to discuss whether they might be useful for my work. Eventually, we developed a USDA proposal together to study compensatory growth using his pig model. He was always excited to explore new ideas and find ways to help others succeed.

But what I appreciated most about Tom was not simply how much he helped me. It was the way he helped. Despite his knowledge, experience, and accomplishments, Tom never made anyone feel that he stood above them. He never rushed to tell people what they should do or assumed that he had all the answers. Instead, he listened—with patience, genuine curiosity, an open heart, and always that warm, reassuring smile.

Whether someone came to him with a research question, a teaching challenge, a personal struggle, or simply a frustration they needed to share, Tom was willing to give his time. He listened without judgment, respected others' perspectives, and genuinely wanted to understand. He did not always make our problems disappear, but somehow, after talking with him, those problems seemed less overwhelming. He helped us see things more clearly, find our own way forward, and regain our confidence.

His love and care for students were especially remarkable. One of my PhD students, who came to our department from China in 2023, shared a memory that deeply touched me. Tom served on her doctoral committee, but to her, he became much more than an academic mentor. She often visited his office when she faced difficult decisions or simply needed someone to talk to. Their conversations would sometimes last two or three hours, even an entire afternoon. Tom never looked at the clock or made her feel that she was taking up his time. During one of the most difficult periods of her life, she turned to Tom for guidance. Rather than telling her what to do, he openly shared his own life experiences, including the difficult decisions and sacrifices he had made. He helped her see her situation more clearly, but what meant the most to her was his reassurance that, whatever she decided, he would respect her choice and support her wholeheartedly. For a young international student far from home, that kind of understanding and support meant everything. She told me that Tom was one of the reasons this unfamiliar place began to feel like home. I cannot think of a more meaningful reflection of the love and care he showed his students.

Tom genuinely loved people. He was interested in their ideas, experiences, and challenges, and he wanted to learn from others just as much as he wanted to help them. No matter who you were or where you came from, he treated you with the same kindness, humility, and respect. He made people feel heard, valued, and cared for.

Tom was also my brother in Christ, and his faith was beautifully reflected in the way he lived. He did not simply speak about Christian love, humility, patience, and serving others. He practiced these values every day, quietly and consistently. His willingness to listen without judgment, to give without expecting anything in return, and to care for others with genuine compassion was a beautiful reflection of Christ's love.

Tom was an extraordinary scientist and educator, but what made him truly remarkable was his heart. He gave so much of himself to others—not out of obligation, but out of genuine love and joy. He lived a life of kindness, humility, generosity, and faith, and made the lives of those around him better simply by being who he was.

Thank you, Tom, for your friendship, your encouragement, and the countless hours you so generously gave to me and so many others. I feel deeply blessed to have known you as a colleague, a friend, and a brother in Christ.

You will be deeply missed, but the love you shared and the lives you touched will never be forgotten.