One time I was having a particularly rough day and Kevin gave me some little toy that must have been from a happy meal or something.  I don't know why but for some reason I kept that thing in my desk for a couple of years.  The thing is, Kevin always knew how to make anybody feel good.  Everybody liked Kevin and Kevin liked everybody.

Kevin and I were friends and I enjoyed sharing an office with Kevin, when he worked for the seismology lab. We enjoyed working, kidding, and helping each other with problems. 

I remember, walking in on Kevin one day. He was doing research, on sending a pager message, after an automatic earthquake triggered alarm. He googled the word "pager" and then clicked on one of the results. Kevin was embarrassed after accidently entering into the "Pocket Panty Web Page" and I asked him what the hell he was doing. 

I am glad Kevin did not pick up on my pencil chewing habits. I learned to be a better person after spending time with Kevin. My hope and prayers go out to Kevin, his friends, and his family.

God Bless Kevin, 

From Mitch Robinson 

I remember Kevin stepping out of the rental car at the restaurant for Kent and Kim's Groom’s Dinner and thinking, “WOW!!!”  Kevin looks just like a big cuddly bear!  I would later get Kevin and Chris Wood's names mixed up.  So, I told Kevin from then on I would call him Christopher Robin or Pooh Bear.  Anyway, after thinking about this today, I pulled down one of the “Winnie the Pooh” books I have and was flipping through it.  Christopher Robin and Pooh Bear were very good friends in the series and inseparable. Here is one of their conversations: 

    “If ever there is a tomorrow when we’re not together,

    There is something you must always remember,

    You are braver than you believe,

    Stronger than you seem,

    And smarter than you think,

    But the most important thing is

    Even if we’re apart,

    I’ll always be with you.”

And…

“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever. 

Kevin will forever be in our hearts.

Love and gentle bear hugs,

Marianne Stone

I loved gabbing it up with Kevin. Unlike other people, that know a lot about one thing, and a bit about everything else, Kevin seemed to know a lot about everything. Every now and then I would research an obscure topic and see if I could out-know him on that topic. He usually got in the last word, laughing, having figured out my game.

I'll miss having lunch with him and listening to his terrible jokes and trying out some of his culinary treats. He offered so much to his friends. What a loss for all of us.

I was lucky enough to share 3641 Sandvik Street with Kevin and Rune Storvold from May 1998 - June 1999. I got to know Kevin well that year and just found him one of the warmest, most "comfortable to-be-around" people I have ever met. I have a lot of great memories of Kevin and his friends from that time.

I often joked I lived with the biggest and tallest guys in Alaska (Rune is 6 feet 9 - this was before Ronni appeared on the scene). I was living in the land of giant mountains and giant people.

Kevin had about 50 guns in the house - various collector pieces, including rifles and machine guns. My parents were pretty worried when I took off to what they saw as this remote frontier town and moved into a house with so many guns - most people in England have never seen a gun except on TV. But as I told them you couldn't imagine anyone better to have such a collection - Kevin was so mild mannered.  I never once heard him get angry or raise his voice, he was always in good humour, knowledgeable on every subject, and a great story teller.

One day I remember arriving home, and walking up the outside stairs to the door, and upon opening it Kevin and Rune were sitting behind a huge 50 caliber rifle pointing right at the door (well me). I've shared some photos of them with that gun.

Another favourite memory is when George camped out in our living room, paid for cable service, and we all got to watch the 1998 soccer world cup together.

That truck he always had parked outside 3641 Sandvik Street was built like a tank. Kevin claimed he could jump up and down on the hood without denting it. Kevin was tough like a tank too, but incredibly kind, generous and helpful. Whenever I'd head out the door he'd say "drive fast, take chances" - his way of saying "take care" without sounding concerned. He introduced me to classic american comedies, americanisms like SNAFU and FUBAR. Dinner parties were frequent at the house and Kevin always cooked up some great food.

Kevin was an incredibly hard worker. I rarely recall him returning home from the office before 8pm, and often it was much later. He's underpinned so much of GI development and operations over the years.

We celebrated Y2K together with a bunch of Kevin's friends but shortly after I left for new adventures in the Caribbean and UK, and we lost touch.I returned to Alaska a few years ago and though I often saw Kevin on campus, life got busy and it was always on my mind to hang out more. Particularly so in the last couple of months when I finally ended dry cabin life, and bought a house making dinner parties much easier. But with some winterization projects to complete and then going away over Xmas, it got put off again. But you always think, "never mind, there's plenty of time".

The news of Kevin's premature passing is still too new and unwelcome to accept...

(translation: goodbye and thank you)

            I only had the great pleasure of knowing Kevin very well for the past year or so, as we had begun work together on a few projects. I feel particularly lucky that we spent several days in Honolulu together two weeks ago, where our friendship grew considerably. Never mind the meeting we attended, Kevin and I had a common objective while in Honolulu, which was to sample the best available Hawaiian food. We were able to return to a place we’d found last summer: Rainbow BBQ, a good mile or so from the glitz of Waikiki. Here Kevin and I and our friends/colleagues T., L., and K., had a pile of sizzling grilled pork and fish, and who knows what else, on a platform of rice and a side of macaroni salad. The setting included a crumbling cinderblock kitchen and picnic tables under humming bug zapper lights. The food was amazing, and quintessentially Hawaiian.  

            The next night we went to a fantastic Japanese restaurant with T. and K. Afterwards, Kevin and I headed over to the Royal Hawaiian for drinks on the beach. This is an absolutely majestic old hotel, where we’d also gone last summer. Passing through the lobby and the bowling green, we found one of the canopied tables open, behind the live hula music. These tables were more like drinking tents; gauzy drapes hung down and we sat down on the white leather couches. Kevin ordered his signature ‘Tropical Itch’ which came with a back scratcher as a stirring rod. He’d begun to collect these back scratchers and distribute them to the staff at work. He just needed this last Tropical Itch, and everyone would have his or her back scratcher. I ordered my signature virgin piña colada and we chatted like schoolgirls for half the night. He promised that we’d have a dinner party in February, so that I could meet some of his other friends and he could meet my husband Bob. Bob has a passion for baking desserts that I assured Kevin he would appreciate.

            The other great restaurant we found was the Diamond Head Deli and Grill. Kevin got there before me and had the teriyaki salmon bellies. The woman at the deli asked him if he knew what these were. He has replied ‘absolutely, I know these are precious.’ She was pleased that someone would savor them appropriately. I got another pile of BBQ pork and we met walking back to the hotel. That was the day that we were leaving to go home and it must have been a steaming 95 degrees. We were both drenched in sweat. He suggested that we duck into a shopping center, where it was air-conditioned and he had an errand to do. We entered a small shop that sold fancy pens made from tropical hardwoods. The shopkeeper was a young woman who treated Kevin like an old friend. He had apparently spent quite some time there the day before.  Kevin was very enamored with this pen he had decided to buy and now knew at great length how it was crafted by this woman. The ink and ball mechanism was made in Germany and the wood came from Hawaii and elsewhere in the Pacific. I picked one up and wrote in her book ‘This is a pen. This is not a pen.’ It wrote very nicely.

            After a visit to the pen shop, we ducked into a homemade soap shop, where the shop girl also greeted Kevin like an old friend. I was beginning to see a pattern. He had bought some gifts here earlier in the week and was hoping to obtain a box to package them for the plane ride home. The young woman insisted that I take a sample of her new shower gel, which was called ‘It’s raining men.’ She put it into the same type of sample cup that your doctor’s office would ask you to fill. Kevin thought this was hilarious.

We went back to the hotel and found a quiet place in the shade to sit and cool down. There were some large rocking chairs overlooking a Koi pond. We sat in these chairs for a couple of hours. We talked some and dozed into the early evening. It was very peaceful. Kevin seemed quite happy. Before we headed to the airport, I went to the hotel’s ladies lounge and used ‘It’s raining men’ to rinse off the rest of my sunscreen before the overnight flight. Kevin and I agreed that this was better than taking this strange-looking cup of gooey gel on the plane. We picked up our luggage and headed for the airport, where we met other members of our crew. My boss, L., bought a couple of pineapples for his family and then became concerned that he had too many carry-on bags.  Kevin volunteered to carry the pineapples for him and he seemed relieved.

            I’m sad that I’ll never get to have a dinner party with Kevin, or even share another meal or coffee. He had many wonderful stories to tell about his life and friends and family, and I just got a small sampler—a pu-pu platter, if you will. I’m sad that we didn’t get to cook together or shoot targets together or any of the other things that I know he enjoyed doing. I feel lucky that I met him when I did, and that we spent not just a few months discussing work plans and software and research ideas, but also a few wonderful hours enjoying food, drink, music, and storytelling. I know that his list of friends was very long and that I am only one of the newest. Kevin will be badly missed, even by his newest friend.

-Jessie