I was in the car listening to the radio, and Bad Company's "Feel Like Making Love" came on. It brought me back to Saturday nights in New Dorm, and Matt and I getting ready to go out to a party. Matt would put on party music on his overkll minifridge-sized speaker towers to get us amped before goin' out. The music was....eclectic.  Public Enemy, Led Zeppelin, Vanilla Ice, GNR, Ace of Base, INXS... and Bad Company all made the CD changer. The man was a musical pinball. Passion was the only common denominator.

In my mind, his appreciation of the song was less about the lyrics, and more about the straight up rock'n'roll- that hard-driving "chun-dunk chung, chun-dunk chung" power lick, and the wild high guitar solo (which he could air-guitar with the best of them).

Happy times, and full of optimistic energy.

On the walk to the party, Matt could not contain that energy, and would just begin belting some of those tunes. Not all of us appreciated his unfettered musical tastes, but we took advantage of another great part of Matt- his own mental CD changer was programmable. All you had to do was yell the first falsetto wail from Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song", and Matt would instantly answer with the throbbing guitar that follows. And carry on.  Passion is as passion does.
Tired of Zep? "Stop, Collaborate and Listen", and Matt was back with his brand new invention.

It can't help but make me smile and laugh.

At the time I don't think I had met you guys yet... I was at the WR Rec Center pool for my kids' swim lessons and Matt was swimming laps during Luke's lesson. After his lesson he met him and raced him to the slide. They spent the time laughing and swimming together and I admired how much time he gave to his son. It was a good reminder to me, a mom of three little kids who was so worried about racing home for bedtime, to live in the moment. A few weeks later I think was when we met each other and you shared so much info about swim team, elementary school, and the general 'ropes' of the 'hood. Thank you for sharing photos and thoughts on FB. I enjoy hearing from you and thinking about your whole family often. 

March 2006. Matt, Jen, Abbie and Luke are moving back from Naples, Florida to Denver.  Matt is driving cross-country in the Toyota Highlander with two large dogs, a goldfish, and firearms. (Things that can't be transported in the moving van.)  Coincidentally, Matt is in the same city on the same night as Nile and I -- New Braunfels, Texas -- where Nile and I are having a little Texas Hill Country vacation.  

After he checks into the motel, Matt meets us for dinner in a brand-new (just opened that day) German restaurant. We walk in, and it's chaos. Two guys are playing the accordion, people are drinking, but there is very little food to be seen. We get seated, and after a lot of intervention, including Matt and Nile telling our high-school kid waiter to "focus like a laser beam and get that cook to plate up our schnitzel," we are served very mediocre food. 

Which leads, of course, to a trip to Sonic ... transporting Matt back into memories of his days at Mudd and Cal Tech. He messed with the order taker by asking for macaroni and cheese ("It used to be on the menu ... are you sure you don't have it? ... Do you need to check with a supervisor?") but settled for a malt. We laughed the whole evening long. Just a typical, fun, interesting and wonderful experience with Matt -- one that I enjoyed every time I was with him. 

I first met Matt in French class my freshman year at Scripps (before I transferred to CMC and met Jen).  I think it was our second semester French class, so none of us were particularly fluent but had some knowledge of the language.  We had a native Parisienne as a professor that semester, and class was at 8:30 a.m.  The professor asked us all how we were feeling.  Matt's response stopped the professor cold.  He said "Je suis plein."  What he meant to say was "I am full" (after breakfast), of which "je suis plein" is a literal translation.  She looked at him as if he'd grown two heads.  It turns out (at least according to this professor) "je suis plein" is a rather vulgar way to say "I'm pregnant" in France.  The entire class burst out laughing and Matt, as was typical of his quick wit, said "Awesome!  I'm a miracle of science!"

I had the pleasure of working for Matt at one of his companies. We shared many common interests like physics, youth soccer, NFL football, and of course, software. Several times a week we'd go out to lunch together, and our favorite things to get were cheesesteaks. We'd go pick up our cheesesteaks, and launch into some deep discussion about life, business, physics, or partitioned databases and walk back to the office. We'd continue our discussion as we walked back through the main office to the room in the back where we both had our desks. As we walked by, we'd get some odd glances from fellow employees when they caught snippits of our conversation. While we sat and ate our lunch, the discussion would carry on as we would draw diagrams and formulas on the whiteboard. By the end of lunch, we'd have nearly exhausted the subject, covered the whiteboard, and feel pretty proud of the solutions we'd come up with. Occasionally, a coworker would stop in to try and ask a question, but they'd catch us in mid-thought. Not wanting to lose his train of thought, Matt might continue for several sentences before acknowledging the newcomer. Then Matt would direct a question at them and explain the main points of our topic so as to include them. On more than one occasion, they would raise their eyebrows, turn around, and walk out without saying a word. We'd share a laugh and launch right back into it. Good memories, good times, good work, and a good friend.

This isn't a story really, rather just some reflections. 

When someone says "Matt McAdams" I think of his smile. Always there, kind of mischeivous, an "I might just have something up my sleeve, but it'll be fun" kind of smile. And it always reminded me of Nile. He welcomed everyone with that smile and it warmed you.

 He was a family man and that is no small thing. Abbie and Luke, cherish your memories of your Dad.

Several years ago we went skiing/ snowboarding as a family segment. Matt was there, with that smile for everyone. Jen was there, of course and the two of them were obviously very happy together. Thank you, Jen for being such a joy in his life.

We will all miss Matt, and that smile, and know that we are better having known him.

Jen, Abbie and Luke:

I knew Matt for a very short time.  During that time, I became very fond of him and connected to his energy level and humor.  He spoke of you all and was so incredibly proud.  

Matt will be greatly missed. May God, your family and friends embrace you during this difficult time.  

Blessings. 

 I didn't know Matt personally, but knew him through the eyes of his wonderful sister- in-law, Shayley. I know that there was no "in-law" about the way she felt about their relationship. He was, and is, her brother. I know that he's one amazing husband and father- that he dearly loves Abbie and Luke and that he married a very talented and brilliant wife . Although I never heard Matt's voice, today, as I was reading a story, I came across a quote that made me imagine his voice. Here is what I imagine him saying to his family.

"If ever there is 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 ."

- Winnie the Pooh

Before our senior year at Mudd, Matt recieved a prestigious grant to participate in physics research over the summer. I begged my way into a clerical job at the Development office, and we shared an apartment with two other friends for the summer. And we ran, training for Cross Country. Every day, Matt and I would rise and be pounding the pavement by 6AM: 10-15 miles a day, day after day, the Trial of Miles, Miles of Trials. It became a grind.

One morning, still groggy, we were heading north through Claremont town, and heard the unmistakeable whistle of the inbound Santa Fe freight train. Matt and I looked at each other, came to an instant unspoken agreement, and took off in a full sprint for the tracks, probably 200 meters away. Because of the apartments, we could not physically see the train until we burst through a row of trees to the track embankment. My instant mental calculus was: "Too close". Apparently the train conductor had the same thought, and laid into the horn. But
Matt and I had momentum, and turning around would have only stopped us mid-track. The die was cast, and I remember focusing deeply on my feet, willing myself not to trip. Matt and I made it across the tracks and burst straight into a concrete parking garage, the horn echoing deafiningly around us for what seemed like ages. We stood there gasping, looking at each other silently, until the horn and the ringing in our ears subsided.
"That," Matt said finally, "was dumb." 

So what I am trying to say is that Matt had the fire in him to take on the world. 

I knew Matt in college as a runner and a physicist, for four short years but thousands of long miles. When you share 70 miles a week with someone side by side, there is not much of your soul that is not laid bare, and I remember a man who profoundly believed in a good God, a New Testament God, if you will. The strength of that faith was without question, and looking back it seemed to give him the freedom to be that wacky goofball, passionate competitor, sly trickster, caring teammate, studious thinker, alpha geek, joyful singer.

On the night before his wedding, I slept on the floor of Matt's room. We were talking deep thoughts in the low light, and I remember his calm and complete assurance that he was making the right decision. There was a plan for him, and he believed with stone faith that he was on the right path.

I hope this gives his family and friends some comfort.