Deceased October 23, 2020

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In Memory

Tom Eldridge, my roommate in Pratt our freshman year, was a very sweet guy. He was always cheerful without ever being silly, and he had a good sense of corresponding with people who were vastly different from him or from each other, leaving me well behind in the way he understood how to communicate. He taught me by example something about interacting with people besides your close friends, and he did so effortlessly. I never saw him angry. He was a Midwesterner with a great sense of humor.

Working with the Veterans Administration hospital (in Salem, Va., 1977–2020) was just right for him. He had a good grip on who he was, he was very comfortable to be around, and he always listened. His patients must have loved him. He was definitely a 99.9 on the empathy scale.

His later Amherst roommates felt the same. “We loved Haws dearly,” said Gordy Allen ’69. “He was a lot of fun—that shock of red hair. There was a lot of celebrating when he got into medical school at Virginia.” 

“He was a great one for going to Smith and bringing back Smith women for blind dates,” said Tony Castle ’69. “One of his blind dates turned into my wife.”

Hospital colleagues knew the same Tom. In the online remembrance book, they mention how friendly he was, how compassionate he was with patients, how much they learned from him.

In Salem, Tom also served as senior warden at St. Thomas of Canterbury Anglican Catholic Church and sang in the choir, as he had sung in the glee club at Amherst. “Wow, what a voice!” wrote one of his Salem friends. He is survived by his wife, Barbara, and their children, Katie and Jackson. We all send them our deep sympathy.

Marc Damashek ’68

Comments:

With Thomas Haws Eldridge, Summer of 1968

Haws and I spent three months in Europe that summer of ’68, before we both were heading for medical school. Andy Isserman ’68 lived in Frankfurt, where his father was stationed in the military, and he helped us set up jobs in a factory in a little cowtown outside of the city in order to make a little extra money. We both spoke German passably, but by the end of three weeks living with a German family in Kalmbach and working in a factory where no one spoke English, we got pretty good in the bars. 

Haws had bought a 1957 Volkswagen for $250, but otherwise, we both had maybe another $250 each (after working) to last us until the end of August. That meant we ate from local markets and slept on the side of the road or crept into camping places after the gates closed and slept for free. We had old-style sleeping bags and nothing else. We cruised through southern Germany, Switzerland, Italy and then Nice, where we met some girls and slept on the rocky beach with the other hippies. Washed our clothes in the beach showers. Haws was a wonderful companion. 

As we moved north into Holland, the weather turned, so we bought a used Dutch army tent (no floor) and camped out. To save money, we ate breakfast every day at the Heineken Brewery where we had sausages and beer. We eventually headed for Copenhagen; we had innumerable empty beer bottles in the back seat which rattled around and caught the attention of the border guards going into Denmark, who were sure we were smuggling alcohol (which we were not). But we had an ounce of hash sitting on the dashboard which they either didn’t find or didn’t care about. We were petrified.

Once in Copenhagen, we stopped at the train station to check out room rentals in people's homes. We ended up renting a room in a wonderful woman’s apartment, who also had three kids. We met Tim Holekamp ’68 there, by accident, and stayed with him and a guy he was traveling with. Maybe we met him in Amsterdam. I can't remember. But Haws did all the talking. 

After a week, the family adopted us and no longer charged us rent. We went to family gatherings and took care of the kids. Amazing experience. Then on to Sweden, camping again where we tried with marginal success to pick up Swedish girls. Haws was better at that than I was.

Finally spent the last couple of weeks in London, with the four of us renting a bed-sitting room where we also met up with some American girls we had initially met in Nice. We found the room through some Brits we had also met in Nice who had their own hippie pad. Bought some hash again, which the guys made soup out of for our last night before flying home. Have no memory of the flight home except to say that I had enough money on arrival to buy a bus ticket to Albany (where my father lived), a pack of cigarettes and a dime to call my father to tell him when to pick me up. And just to have that amount of money required borrowing $10 from Tim, which I never paid back (though I tried at our 50th reunion). That was a Friday. The next morning, hung over, long hair, and all—headed to NYC to begin medical school. OMG. 

So this story seems about me, but Haws made it magical, and he will forever be in my thoughts.

Matt Miller ’68