Charles & Elena Loomis

Dear Dad,

I'm writing to begin my own project of sharing memories I have of you which even my own brothers and sister cannot know unless I do this, because, of course, I was born first, and so experienced things which they could not have seen. This is the first of many such letters.

My earliest memory of you is actually of the sound of your shoes, as you walked down the hall towards me (and, presumably, Mom) in the apartment building where we lived in Cambridge, Mass. The sound they made was quite distinct; I labelled it the "oo-nah, oo-nah, oo-nah" sound. I don't know how old I was, but I do remember realizing that your shoes made a very individual sound (Mom's didn't sound at all the same). So from that time on I would look for the sound you made when coming home. I was small (I turned 5 years of age only after we left Cambridge to move out west to Los Alamos, so at this point I must have been maybe three years old). I liked that sound; it made me feel good.

Another clear memory, also from that period in my life, is of you taking me with you to where you must have worked as a physicist. (there were lots of electrical devices there, wires and such). The floors were wooden. I remember you lighting a piece of paper on fire, then dropping it on the floor. I was scared and protested that the floor might be set on fire. But you explained that if you stepped on the burning paper, it would go out for lack of air; then you proceeded to do just that, which, of course, put it out. This I can see as clearly as if it happened yesterday. And so I learned that fires needed air (years later, I learned more specifically, oxygen) to persist; take that away, and they go out.

A third clear memory, also from that day in the lab, is of a large (to me) "electromagnet" (I remember you called it that; that was how I learned that word). You made a point of showing me that nothing would "stick" to it (some nuts, bolts, screws, and at least one screwdriver). Then you also made a point of showing me a switch, which you pushed from one position to another. After that, LOTS of things would "stick" to the electromagnet, in a long string, starting with the screwdriver. Then you let me push the switch into the other position (i.e "off"), and everything promptly fell off. I was quite impressed! Then you let ME turn it on, stick things to it (or rather, move them in close; the magnet then "grabbed" them out of my hands), and then turn it off again, whence everything promptly fell to the floor just as before. Except this time, you showed me that the screwdriver somehow "kept" a little bit of the ability to pick up the lighter of the other things -- for example, a screw, or a nut, or a nail. This produced a life-long fascination with magnetism for me.

I have always treasured these memories, and many others which I will share with the rest of the world as time permits, starting now (3/22/13). You were a terrific Dad. I shall always miss you.

Love, Tom
3/22/2013

Dear Daddy
Happy Birthday to you - you are in our hearts - we love you
Mimi

Dear Daddy
Our first Christmas without you and yet you are everywhere, most of all in our hearts. We love you dearly - Merry Christmas

Dad and Mom as seen by their iMac early in 2007!

Best Dad I could ever have had! I'll miss you, pa!