Laura was my editor when I wrote for Technology Review, and I recall many phone conversations that covered the necessary, work-related ground and then veered off into more pleasant territory. We talked about vacations, families, books, writing in general and whatever was going on in our lives at the moment. I appreciated her as an editor who invariably made my writing better and as a friend who never was too busy to ask about my life and then seem genuinely interested in my response.

I remember having coffee with Laura at a AAAS/NASW meeting after she became ill. She was having difficulty walking and was using a cane. Knowing first-hand the inconveniences and indignities that accompany cancer, cancer treatments and their aftermath, and knowing Laura's sense of humor, I thought I could be a bit irreverent without offending her. So I told her about a sticker my husband had attached to his motorcycle helmet that read, "If you don't limp, you aint s--t."

Laura, of course, thought it was hilarious, so I found one for her at the next motorcycle swap meet, and she got a kick out of showing it to her doctors.

Others writing here have described Laura as insightful, warm, energetic, empathic, generous, committed and kind, which she certainly was -- and more. I am so sad that she is gone, but glad to know that so many of us share these memories of Laura and continue to be inspired by her example.

Laura and I met about two decades ago and each visit to Boston would be an opportunity for us to share tea and talk. When she got sick, we had many long talks and then she got well and then sick again, and again. All throughout, she was upbeat and it was always inspirational to see how well she handled her continuing battle. Last month, she called to say that her memory was shot but that she could recall how much fun she had during our visits. Well, Laura, you taught me how to live each day, and enjoy the living. And for that, I pick up my tea cup and toast you, my dear friend. You are missed today and forever more. Jamie

I sometimes described Laura to other writers as one of those editors who edit just the way you like. She somehow realized from the first moment she looked at something I'd written that I like to be told what's wrong with something and then go off and fix it. I never told her that -- she just figured it out somehow.

But I got to know Laura as much more than an editor. At the dinner for the National Book Awards in New York, you're allowed to invite three people -- your agent, your spouse, and your editor. My wife sat on one side, and Laura on the other. (My agent was relegated to another table.) And then last December I got to have one last dinner in Boston with Laura and met Howard for the first time, and that's when I realized just how deeply my friendship with Laura ran. I'd shared some of the most important years of my life with her, years that would have been much different if I'd never met her. It's amazing to me to realize that she had as powerful an effect on so many people as she had on me.

I had the happy privilege of knowing Laura and the sad privilege of attending her memorial service in Cambridge on Sunday. I remember having a long lunch with Laura at a recent AAAS meeting as she was becoming NASW President. We talked professionally about science writing and the way NASW has matured, and she was eager to make a difference. We also talked personally about her long struggle with cancer because it has strongly affected my family as well. As I sat listening to her friends, colleagues (brilliantly represented by Deb Blum) and dear husband talk about Laura at her service, I realized that, as is often the case, we colleagues knew only part of the story. I learned for the first time about her passion for Scrabble, her long swims at dawn in Walden Pond, and her love of gardens and birds. I'm sorry we never got to talk about all of those shared passions as well. I am sad that Laura has gone, but she has not left us. She worked hard to make a difference, and she did.

I can't recall when I first met Laura, but in every memory I have of her, she is smiling. Laura was a champion of science writing, a strong supporter of NASW's mentoring efforts and was, herself, a mentor to many. She was a kind soul who comforted me last fall when I lost my mother unexpectedly. With all she was going through, she thought of my loss, not her own troubles. She offered advice as I began freelancing full-time and sent me notes of encouragement every time I published a story. She will be missed.

I met Laura when I was a travel fellow to the 2004 AAAS meeting. She went to the top of the space needle with a group of NASW members after the NASW awards ceremony. She made an effort to include me in a group of strangers- all of whom knew each other very well.

It is strange how such a small effort is so appreciated, especially in the larger context of her more significant contributions.

I first met Laura when she edited a piece I wrote for Technology Review, and we stayed in touch as her career moved on in different directions. She once asked me to talk to her son about science fairs and science careers, and I'm glad if I was able to pass on something helpful to her boy. But the best moment came at a AAAS meeting a couple of years ago. I knew about her illness, and I myself was just coming out of a brush with something extremely serious (luckily, now resolved). We had a long talk about what it takes to survive times like that, which Laura had been doing longer and under harder circumstances than I had. She set an example of quiet fortitude, and most important, of holding on to whatever humor, joy, and pleasure in one's work that a person can find in terrible times. She helped me enormously, and I'm deeply sorry to see that her spirit is now gone.

I met Laura at Technology Review nearly 20 years ago, when I was just getting going in the freelance game. I feel lucky to have crossed paths with her, especially when I was starting out in what is now beginning to look like a career (of sorts). Were it not for the breaks and encouragement she gave me, a novice writer, I might easily be doing something else right now. Though what I can't imagine.

I learned a lot from my association with Laura over the years, but one lesson stands out: Once, in the 1980s, I was late on a story and assumed it was no big deal, as a day here or there had never seemed to matter before. (Writing for monthlies and bi-monthlies, I had led a sheltered life.) Laura let me know, in no uncertain terms, of the importance of deadlines. It's a lesson I never forgot. In fact, I think back to her words every month or so, as a new deadline rolls in.

I fell out of touch with Laura for several years, but we had a long phone chat a couple of months ago. I'm still in awe at her bravery as she faced a future that was uncertain at best. It's a shame she was unable to fulfill the many plans she had as a writer, editor, and parent.

I am glad to have known Laura and feel pained that her life was cut short. She will be greatly missed.

I didn't know Laura that well but well enough to admire her energy, warmth, and commitment to science writing. She was very encouraging to me when I was trying to get into science writing after having worked for some years at daily newspapers. We had some things in common: like me, she had worked at the St. Petersburg Times in Florida, and we both attended Boston University's science-journalism program (not at the same time.) So, when I met her in Boston, her advice was especially meaningful and helpful to me. Then I was at a NASW luncheon at the AAAS meeting a few years ago, and she was busy drumming up book ideas, and we chatted a bit about mine -- and as we were parting, she held up her hand to her ear and flashed me the "call-me" sign. Always an energetic networker. I wish her family my condolences, and may she rest in peace.

It was good fortune for me to have known Laura even a little. We met many years ago at an NESW meeting in Boston and although I knew no one, she extended a hand to me then and in so many ways in the years to follow. She delivered nearly divine advice when we created the Metcalf Institute and agreed to join the board--to deliver even more inspired ideas. Despite her grave situation, she kept laughing and showed those around her what counts in the world. It is hard to believe that someone so generous and full of life and energy is gone.

It would be hard to think of a more tireless, devoted proponent of science writing and the respect owed to great practitioners of the craft than Laura. Her efforts go back decades, to her days as a magazine editor. So many of Laura's attributes and talents come to mind as I think fondly, and sadly, of her -- it is hard to summarize. But at the risk of commiting inaccuracy in search of brevity let me say this: Laura Van Dam put her own ego, notoriety and even financial reward in the distant background of her life, always striving to bring the attention and rewards to those whose work she admired. She struggled for well over a decade to elevate not only the organization, NASW, but the general lot and skills level of science writers, collectively. I never heard a sullen or cross word from Laura, unless they were directed at news organizations and publishers she thought exploited or mistreated her colleagues. I also never heard her express indignence at lack of attention to herself or her achievements.

Laura's demise is a genuine loss, not only on a personal level, but professionally. It is not possible to fill her shoes. Someone will simply have to invent new shoes to fill.

With love, Laurie Garrett

I consider myself lucky to have known Laura. I never worked with her in a professional capacity, but during her stint as a book editor she was constantly after me to identify prospective authors among our faculty. As a colleague in NASW, I considered her to be a thoughtful and accomplished pro. It was clear to me that, like the best editor one can hope for, she was a sincere listener with a deep interest in what you had to say. For that, I'm grateful. Few of us can rise to that level.

I've known Laura since Technology Review days. When we met at AAAS, she was -- incredibly to me -- interested in an idea of mine. As we worked on features, I saw an active, even aggressive, editor. But she did not meddle for the sake of it: Her torrent of queries, comments, and suggestions were rooted in an impressive view of the big picture. She exemplified the old Tech Review: Science and technology do matter in the world. We remained friends as Laura moved to Houghton Mifflin, and she became a colleague of my mother, Frances, an acquisition editor at Houghton. Mom, of course, was soon calling Laura friend. We watched, awed, at Laura's energy, skill and caring. Finally, we watched her courage in the face of this miserable cancer. She set such a high standard for our craft. More important, she set a high standard for being human.

Laura is definitely a person who will be missed in this world. I'm amazed and inspired at how she dealt with this disease so gracefully, so fiercely. I'm sure there were many despairing moments, but she never gave in, until it was time to.

I can hear her voice now, her soft chortle when her wry sense of humor bubbled up, which was often. She so enjoyed life, her family and her friends.

Even though I didn't have much contact with her these last couple of years, I'll miss knowing that she's around. But, I suppose, because she made such an imprint in this world, that she'll always be around.

Although I only knew Laura from afar, I respected her and could see that she was enthusiastic about this crazy writing profession.

While a Knight Fellow at MIT, I submitted a book idea to her, which she quickly rejected. Her rejection letter was one of the better, kinder ones I have received. (I went on to publish the book.)

At panel discussions it was obvious that that Laura was insightful about science writing and deeply committed to NASW.

My condolences to her family and friends. Of all the wars in this world, the war on cancer is one I sure wish we could win.

During my nine months as a Knight Science Journalism Fellow at MIT, I had the opportunity to write an article for Technology Review, with Laura as my editor. I found her to be endlessly patient and resourceful. We subsequently crossed paths from time to time, generally at AAAS annual meetings. In summary, I always rated her first class, as a professional and a person.

I met Laura at a gathering she arranged to share successes and ideas about how the regional science writing groups could more fully engage their members. She was with New England Science Writers and I was with the Northern California group.

When I moved to Boston, we had opportunities to commiserate and comfort each other over the mercurial and fleeting nature of magazine staff positions and the vagaries of freelancing.

Her commitment to science and science journalism was awesome to behold. Even while participating in experimental treatment, she was gathering man-on-the-street perspectives from neighboring chemotherapy beds. For whatever reason, one of her observations in particular from that outpatient ward has persisted in my mind. She was deeply appreciative of a vast foundation of science and clinical expertise underlying and informing her treatment options, even as they fell short of offering any definitive hope. In contrast, she was surprised to discover, almost none of her chemotherapy companions credited or even connected the labors and advances in biomedical research to their future health and longevity.

I admired her open nature, her keen and inquisitive mind, and her integrity. She was generous with comfort and insights into coping with grief and loss. She remains a source of inspiration and motivation.

My heart goes out to her family.

Laura was an incredible source of encouragement for me when my father was diagnosed with cancer and family obligations made it difficult for me to balance the demands of freelance work with my job as NASW cybrarian.

She expressed real empathy not only for my dad, but also for me and others close to him. It was only then that I became aware of her health status.

During our work-related interactions, she was thoughtful, fair and a receptive listener. She had an infectious enthusiasm for new ideas and unflagging dedication to advancing both our association and profession.

I am glad to have known Laura and offer her family my condolences.

Laura and I became friends long before either of us were on the board; I always thought that she adopted me because with her typical generosity, she always encouraged me. I never wrote a book that she didn't call me about, praise, and look for the best in. Every time, she'd tell me that she could see me growing as a writer and that she was excited for me. And the thing is - she was. She was one of those rare people who genuinely rejoice in the successes of others. And she was also someone who always tried to support people in harder times. Last year, when my older son was in the hospital, she sent him a gift and me a pair of fuzzy slippers. Everyone gets comfort from fuzzy slippers she said and I still wear them on tough days, which has been most of this week. I last saw her in the fall when the cancer was causing her memory to slip. Her husband drove her to meet me at a restaurant because she had trouble driving. But she laughed about that, at herself, and still encouraged me in the latest project. That's my last best memory, Laura and I laughing at ourselves. The world is less bright without you, Laura. Grace go with you.

Deborah

My friendship with Laura began many, many years ago when, joining the motley steering group of New England Science Writers for a meeting in a dive of a restaurant near Central Square (Cambridge), I walked in and encountered a woman with more energy flying off the tips of her fingers than anyone I’ve ever encountered before or since. These three things I’ll especially remember about Laura, always: One was that wonderfully alive, bracing and embracing, energy of hers. Another was how much she cared about communicating science – really cared. She had sensitive antennae for special happenings in the scientific world, and a terrific desire to share those happenings with people outside that world. Third, I’ll always remember her laugh, which I only really became aware of after she got sick. It shimmered out one evening when we were having margaritas at Jose’s, a frumpy Mexican restaurant near where we both lived – a warm, light and real laugh. Life was all the more precious to her then, and you could hear it in her laughter, how much she appreciated life, friends, margaritas and fajitas, book talk, science talk.

She was so supportive of so many of us, and such a firm believer in everything that this group holds to heart.

-- Ann Parson

There must be many like me who never met Laura but as members of NASW admired her work from afar. It is so hard to feel proper gratitude for a person's life when we all feel so sad. But her work and influence won't end. It will endure, and we are all better for her life and witness. Deepest condolences to her family, to her friends, and to the science-writing community that so badly needs people just like her.

I knew Laura for many years, as a friendly competitor in the science book acquisitions end of the publishing business. We saw each other at various scientific conferences and an occasional interesting, always enjoyable lunch.

While going through the most recent, and ultimately tragic, phase of her illness, she temporarily forgot her troubles to sympathize with and support me as I went through a less serious one. I’ll never forget that, and I am deeply saddened by her untimely departure. My heart goes out to her husband and son, and all of her family and friends.

Jeffrey Robbins

I first met Laura when I came to Technology Review. I have always worked on the business side but Laura took the time to get to know me. She was always wonderful, warm and encouraging. I know that Laura loved journalism with a passion and, in particular, her friends at NASW. Her commitment to journalism and science writing was truly inspiring.

Laura loved clothing and jewelry and this is an interest we shared and enjoyed. I remember spending late afternoons with her wandering around shops in Cambridge or Newbury Street. Once we spent several hours walking inside Copley Plaza- going in and out of the stores. I don’t think we even bought anything but spent a lot of time talking and trying on things.

And of course above all Laura loved her family, David and Howie. I remember when David was born and what a happy wonderful mother Laura was.

The world is a sadder place without her without her warmth and generous spirit.

Laura signed me up to write a book for Houghton Mifflin while she was an editor there. I was working on another book at the time, so she had to wait for hers, and she waited in a typically Laura way – actively. She ferried me emails announcing relevant research findings, clipped and mailed articles from obscure scientific journals or from the Boston Globe, phoned me every now and then to see if I’d been thinking about the book. There was no such thing as a short phone call from Laura; every conversation turned into a free-for-all, from NASW gossip to child rearing, from the nature of memory to the yo-yo-ing state of her health. She often interrupted herself to get up and close the door to her office so her co-workers wouldn’t overhear.

For various reasons, the book I was to write for Laura never got written. But as I reflect now on Laura’s too-brief life, her heroic struggle with cancer, and her tragic death, I see that of course it was a book that only Laura could have edited. The topic captured so perfectly the way she embraced everyone she encountered, and the way she accepted without complaint whatever lousy cards she’d been dealt. Laura had signed me up to write a book about happiness.

I am incredibly sad to hear of Laura's passing. I didn't know her well, although I admired her from a distance. She was an exceptional role model -- an accomplished professional with husband and child. And my anger at cancer's relentlessness only grows. In the most hopeful spirit, I echo what Alan Boyle said -- "May the perpetual light shine upon her."

Laura sought me out at the AAAS meeting in D.C., 2005, to offer comfort. It was a small act of deliberate kindness that made a big impression on me, and I wanted to share the snapshot with Laura's family. For reasons both professional and personal (a loss), it was a difficult time, somewhat isolating. Laura caught me in mid-fly and asked me to sit with her. Immediately, I assumed that she was approaching me with a problem, on behalf of NASW. But, as our conversation unfolded, it didn't encompass any profound or weighty or sticky issues -- she was simply sharing a moment. I believe she did this on purpose, recognizing that I needed it. And, it was really so nice. I hope the memories posted here will bring some comfort to Howard and David, and I send my deepest sympathies to the family.

Laura and I became friends when we shared a room at the Society for Neuroscience in October 2004. Until then, I'd known her only in passing. We had so much fun at that meeting. Neither of us had a clue how to cover a conference that large. Each evening, we'd talk about how the day went and go over our plans for the next day. Before long, we were sharing life stories and giggling like school girls at a slumber party, staying up way too late and splashing the room with happy tears. Afterwards, we remained in touch and spoke on the phone or shared emails whenever we could. She was so brave and I will miss her terribly.

God's speed, Miss Laura.

I hardly knew Laura at all, and then mostly at a distance -- we met only once. She was kind to me and kind to my students. She had told me about her illness and like everyone else, I admired her courage and hoped that in her situation, I would have as much of it. Even with our brief acquaintance, I thought she was someone I could always come back to and I'm sad not to have that warm, direct presence of hers in my life.

Laura's kindness, warmth and generosity survives her. I knew Laura for years professionally, but only recently came to know her better as a person. Studies show that science writers are an emotionally challenged, left-brained bunch who desperately need their mothers. Laura was our mom, guiding us toward a better way. Her influence and bright spirit shines on still.

I first met Laura at Houghton Mifflin while working on my first math textbook project as a contract editor. A displaced Midwesterner, I was way out of place in Boston. She said she saw that in me and that's why she said hello to me one day on the elevator. She was so warm.

After moving away from Cambridge and eventually finding my way to science journalism, I met her again a few years ago at an AAAS meeting. Completely unfazed by seeing me out of context, she smiled that big smile of hers, and it was as if the intervening years had not passed at all.

Laura was just like that -- just a smile and I felt like I was reconnecting with a long-time friend. I was very proud to know her, even though I only knew her a very little. I am saddened that I will not have the chance to get to know her better, and extend my condolences to her family.

Laura and I worked together at Technology Review for six years during the 1990s. This experience was deeply rewarding for me, and for everyone else on the staff. She was by far the most committed, passionate, COMpassionate, and energetic person I have ever known.

An example was her incredible productivity when attending AAAS annual meetings, which was a supermarket of potential authors -- scientists and professional writers alike -- of future TR articles. Shy types like myself would be lucky to come home with a few leads. Laura would typically return with 10 or more single-spaced pages of prospects, annotated in maybe a dozen typefaces and further differentiated by the use of boldface, italics, and varying degrees of indentation.

Such awesome results, enough to make us mere mortals dizzy, were no mere wish lists but promises by the prospective authors, each of them personally approached and recruited by Laura. Many of these possibilities remained unrealized. This was not the fault of our ultra-talented scout -- my wife, hearing the legendary Laura stories, came to call her “a landmine of information” -- but of the team’s limited opportunities to follow up on her abundant initiatives.

Laura’s AAAS performance, typical of the intensity and dedication she brought to virtually everything she did, also showed her great curiosity in all aspects of science as well as her unbounded interest in the people who practice it and those who write about it. She was truly a force of nature, a complete professional, and a real mensch.

We lost Laura much too soon, but in her too-few years she contributed several lifetimes’ worth of accomplishments and love to the world. Those of us lucky enough to know her will miss her mightily, but we will remain forever grateful for the many gifts she gave us.

Steve Marcus

I met Laura a couple of years ago at the AAAS meeting in Seattle, to discuss some harebrained ideas I had, and even during that brief encounter her encouragement and empathy shone through. I'm only sorry I didn't have a chance to know her better. As they say back where I come from, "May the perpetual light shine upon her."

Laura had great generority of spirit. I met her as a board colleague and never knew her when her life was not shadowed by illness or the threat of illness. But I also never knew her to complain or show self-pity. Rather, even as her own circumstances grew increasingly dire, her concern always focused on the needs, interests and problems of others.

Her devotion to NASW was a thing of beauty, truly awesome to behold. Both meticulous and gracious as a leader, she strove to fulfill her duties to the utmost of her ablity, even as her strength waned, and only withdrew mere weeks before her tragically untimely passing.

Both as individuals and as a community, we have lost a person of exemplary courage and kindness.

My wife and I fortunately had the chance to know Laura personally as well as professionally.

When we lived in Cambridge for a couple of years in the mid-90s, Laura and Howie went out of their way to welcome us, introduce us to a wide circle of friends and generally make us feel as though we'd lived there for years.

Our children ended up in the same small parent co-op preschool, an environment where you get to know the other families extremely well.

Laura was generous, thoughtful, caring and above all utterly genuine. She was a terrific mom, and our hearts hurt for Howie and David. It's damn unfair; she didn't even get to see David graduate from high school.

Laura was the workshop committee chair the year that I organized my first NASW meeting. I could always count on Laura, not only for a detailed edit of materials, but for insightful comments and thoughtful responses that managed to balance a real concern for individuals and the organization as a whole. Laura’s style blended professionalism and warmth, combined humor and grace. She offered praise with a sincerity of spirit -all of this wrapped up in a real passion for NASW. Thank you, Laura.

My admiration for Laura is immense, her passing is a terrible injustice. Many of us, I for certain, who served on the NASW board when the organization functioned primarily as an annual, obscurantist debating society and source of social grease were dumbfounded by its leaders of recent years, exemplified by Laura van Dam. Thoughtful, inventive, and tireless, she was a key reason NASW has become a fully functional professional organization. I was not fortunate enough to have known her well personally, but I do know that whenever NASW chalked up an important achievement in recent years, Laura's name popped up. Her family has my deepest condolences. Charlie Petit

I had gotten used to seeing her at the AAAS annual meeting and at various other gatherings over the past several years, and I always looked forward to it because she was so engaging and friendly. I felt as though we had known each other for a long time. I feel particularly bad now because I had no idea she was even ill. This is a big loss to our community, because although she can be succeeded, she cannot be replaced. Vaya con Dios, Laura.

It is shocking, and sad, that we have lost Laura. It's hard to believe someone so full of life is gone. I knew her both as a committed NASW officer, and someone who encouraged a reluctant book writer--me--to consider spreading trying something new. If I do ever write a book, I'll have Laura's encouragement, at least in part, to thank for it.

A friend of mine, Ed Cohen-Rosenthal, died of cancer about five years ago. He wasn't a journalist or a scientist or from Boston or anyone who would have traveled in Laura's circles. Maybe they knew each other through the cancer connection? I don't know, but during Ed's illness Laura asked about him, and Ed talked about Laura's courage. I think my point is that Laura had ideas and friends all over the place, not just in science journalism, and that depth and breadth of interest was part of her that I'll miss.

I met Laura when she was working at Technology Review in 1988. I had just graduated from journalism school and Laura was my first "real" editor. She talked over ideas with me, explained what was good in my writing and what needed re-writing, and she was always willing to speak with me on the phone or in person. I will miss Laura very much.

Early in my magazine freelance career I submitted an article to Technology Review, just before they had a change of editors. The new editor killed my article because it didn't fit his "vision" for the magazine. This was and continues to be the only article I have ever had killed.

Soon thereafter Laura van Dam arrived at Technology Review. She called me and helped rearrange my article so that it could be published as two sidebars and get me most of the money I had originally been contracted to receive.

She didn't have to go out of her way to do this but she did. She was sympathetic to my plight as a freelance writer and wanted to help me save as much of my work as possible.

For that enthusiasm and encouragement I have always been grateful. If only more editors would be like her.

With deep sadness, Laura will be missed by all of us. She was courageous and had a good sense of humor through it all. May she be in peace. diane