David J. Lofgren

Dave Lofgren and I were friends like forever. We met as undergraduates at the University of Maryland, both being members of the Pershing Rifles in ROTC--Dave became the regimental commander and I the adjutant--and we roomed together for the last two years. Senior year, we both drove MGs, the Corvette bug not having yet bitten Dave, and we went to a number of memorable movies, either in the university Student Union or at a nearby drive-in. A gazillion years later, we could still recollect our fave flicks, relishing great lines and memorable scenes.
A couple of weeks before graduation, I busied myself planning a trip in mellow top-down weather. It happened on the day of the Indy 500, with the anticipation of listening to the event while driving to some historic places I had long wanted to see. The trip was to be a solo one, because Dave had to study for an examination essential to his major. I paused at the door to urge him to study hard. Suddenly, he slammed his book shut and exclaimed, "I´m coming with you!" I asked him if he was sure--the exam was critical--and he said he was. We drove as far west as old Fort Frederick, while Parnelli Jones, Jim Clark, and A. J. Foyt duked it out at The Brickyard. How Dave fared on that exam, I´ll never know.
Through the years afterward, we stayed in touch. Although we encountered each other in person only a handful of times, we regularly wrote, emailed, and phoned. Dave´s steady, reassuring voice gave me comfort and confidence at times when I badly needed both.
I write, and Dave particularly enjoyed my recruiting him to research esoteric questions relating to military history and tradition. Between us, we did a bang-up job on the practice of addressing junior officers of all services as "Mister"--although such ended for the army sometime in the early 20th century. He was among the first to order my latest book, published last year, and he wrote a glowing review to persuade potential purchasers to do likewise.
Along the way, we lost our wives to incurable disease, and Dave fought more than one form of cancer. Although many miles distant, I tried to be there for him.
Right now, I´m grappling with the disbelief I´ll never hear his voice again. I shall miss him more than I´m able to put into words. Nothing lasts forever, but who can ever persuade a guy of that?

I have known Dave since 1996 and spoke with him very recently. He and I used to have some very interesting, philosophical talks and I always learned something new. I was glad to be able to offer him some support during his illness. Condolences are sent to his grown children.
Bev Coleman

I consider it a honor to have Col. Dave as my friend. I always gave him a salute. He deserves it. I will miss him and his Corvette knowledge and technical tips as well as his overall general wisdom. Much prayer for his family

My husband and I were in Corvette Club with Dave. One of the smartest men that we knew. He was a true gentleman. He will be greatly missed. Tom and Donna Owen

Rest in peace, sir.