Thomas Ilgen

Remembering Dave Corwin

            I first met Dave Corwin in late August 1964 when we both arrived at Oberlin College for pre-season football practice.  I came from Wisconsin and the Midwest; Dave from this exotic place called Greenport, Long Island.  It was typically hot and humid in northern Ohio at that time of year and this year was no exception.  Dave and I, along with the other freshman football players, assembled twice each day for practice, pulling on sweaty practice jerseys and donning old leather football helmets that offered all too little protection.  I assembled with the interior lineman and Dave took his place among the running backs.  My job over the next four years was to make holes in the defensive line that Dave would dart through.  When I did my job, which was not often enough, I would marvel at the speed with which Dave hit the hole and at his elusive running style as he sliced his way through the opponent’s backfield.   After a tough morning practice in the hot Ohio sun, we would collapse in our only slightly cooler dormitory rooms and try to recover before we assembled again for afternoon drills.  It was in the quiet time between practice sessions and in the evenings that I came to know Dave Corwin.  He had a self-deprecating sense of humor that kept me in stitches—beginning with a small wry comment and then building on that thought repeatedly until I was laughing so hard that the tears flowed.  As my wife always said, no one could make me laugh like Dave Corwin.  By the time classes began at the end of pre-season, we had become good friends, a friendship that would continue to grow over the next four years and beyond.

            It was also in that first year in college that I learned that Dave was a type 1 diabetic.  He explained to me what was required to keep his condition under control, showed me how he was required to give himself a shot several times a day, and how he needed to watch his diet. 

He also proved to me that having diabetes did not prevent him from living life to the fullest.  He probably had more innate athletic talent than any other member of our football team and his medical condition never prevented him showing that talent on the football field or on the college track.  He kept himself in good shape after his playing days were over and enjoyed watching his kids play the sports they enjoyed. 

            During our senior year, Dave and I lived in a college house with other good friends, and we had rooms near one another connected by a shared bath.  It was the year that Dave began dating Carol seriously and he would invite her for visits to his very small room.  The walls were thin in this old house, and I remember fondly how Dave would amuse Carol with one story or anecdote after another and Carol would laugh and laugh late into the night.  I knew it was the beginning of a wonderful relationship that was sealed by their marriage following graduation. 

            Dave was a serious and hardworking student at Oberlin—majoring in Biology.  His goal was to attend medical school like so many of his fellow classmates.  When we graduated in 1968, the Vietnam War was raging and we and many of our classmates sought deferments as high school teachers. Dave and his new wife got jobs teaching in a private school in Massachusetts.  I remember driving from the Midwest and visiting them in Boston where Dave and Carol were teaching.  As I recall, the teaching situation was not ideal, and they were looking for a change.  Vietnam changed the plans of many of us and Dave was accepted into a master’s program at Purdue where he later also completed a degree in Veterinary Medicine.  My wife and I visited Dave and Carol in West Lafayette on a trip south from the Midwest.

            Our paths crossed again in Santa Barbara, California where Carol’s parents were living, and I began a graduate program.  They were new parents of daughter, Christy, and I remember them driving their Ford Mustang to our apartment near UCSB with baby paraphernalia packed in the car and tied to the roof.  They had entered the era of parenthood and we were not far behind.  When we relocated to the east coast, we made regular trips to the coast of Maine and visited Dave and Carol first in Bath and later in Waterville, Maine.  Our kids became acquainted, and we found they shared many interests—among them soccer and medicine.  We made repeated trips to Maine over the years and almost always found a way to connect with Dave and Carol.  Most recently, we rented a place near Brunswick that would bring fresh steamed lobster to us when their boat returned in the late afternoon.  We ordered four and had a delightful afternoon with Dave and Carol who had driven down from Waterville. 

            We also enjoyed seeing Dave and Carol at the many reunions that our small group of Oberlin grads have organized over the years—in Friendship, Maine; Venice, Florida; Austin, Texas; Gulf Shores, Alabama; Palm Springs and Laguna Beach, California.  Perhaps most remarkable was Dave’s trip by motorcycle from Maine to Venice, Florida.  Riding a motorcycle on cross country trips with his son-in-law James was one of his favorite pastimes.   The biannual reunions meant that I would get to spend time with Dave at least every other year.  I treasured those times.  My memory is that Dave would often begin our time together quietly listening to the stories and activities of others in the group.  He was always more interested in hearing about what you were doing than going on about himself.  But little by little, he would enter the conversation, often offering an amusing story and anecdote that would lighten the mood and get people laughing.  Spurred on by the reaction, more humorous comments would follow until the group was laughing uproariously.  All of this was done with little fanfare but with impeccable timing. 

            Dave was also smart and could focus on serious matters, particularly when they involved medical problems whether they affected family members and friends or the four-legged loved ones that turned up in his veterinary clinic.  While I had little occasion to observe Dr. Corwin in a medical setting (I did see him remove porcupine quills from a squirrely beagle), my sense was that he was as caring and kind to pet owners as he was to the animals that were brought to him for treatment.   He was the consummate professional, staying current in his field, adopting the latest improvements in care, and working the long hours required.  He enjoyed working into his retirement years, helping young practitioners get their practices off the ground. 

            Dave Corwin was one of the good guys.  He was a faithful friend, a loving husband, and an attentive father and grandfather.  His good works are reflected in all of those who knew him well.  I will miss long telephone conversations dedicated to “bringing each other up to date” and opportunities to spend time with each other.  We will all miss his playful sense of humor at a time in our world when we all need more laughter.

Tom Ilgen