David Lundquist was my older brother, ten years older to be exact. He made me laugh when I was a little girl. I was never happier than when he would play with me or tickle me. I adored him and was always thrilled when he gave me some attention. I remember him being so busy in high school; always working on a science project or practicing the piano. Always a good student. Always a little joke on his lips. He was well-liked and got along with everyone! He also played the violin and viola. In later years, as an adult, he took up the mandolin. In Michigan, he was even part of a mandolin orchestra. I heard them once. Boy, did they ever have a good sound!
In summertime, I have fond memories of our dad taking the two of us to the public swimming pool in Newport News. That is where I learned to dive.
I also remember him spending hours in his room on his shortwave ham radio. In modern times, you can't pry kids off their cell phones and social media. David would stay up late, tapping away in his bedroom, using Morse code to converse with people all over the world. Once in a while, I got invited in to participate. He showed me how to tap out the dots and dashes on his "Morse key", a piece of apparatus that I imagine is now only found in a museum. I was fascinated.
David attended the University of VA in Charlottesville. He had a girlfriend named Priscilla. (She surfaced in 2013, asking about David. I sensed that she had many fond memories.) He obtained a degree in Physics from UVA. I recall that his social life centered around music. He and a few other students spent a lot of time on weekends at a professor's home, "jamming", playing music together. That may be where he first picked up the mandolin. I recall a happy weekend visit to Charlottesville, VA, with my parents, and we were all invited to the college professor's house for lunch.
He went on to Stanford University in CA and got his Phd in nuclear physics. There is where he met and married Julie de Roos {spelling?). Our parents flew me to California to be a maid of honor in the wedding. I was fifteen and excited about being on my own and in my first wedding. It was a beautiful affair.
Some time in his 30s, the demons of schizophrenia crept into his life. I feel so bad for him because he did not ask for this to happen. And he didn't deserve it.
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