From the moment I met Cyndy, my impression of her never changed. When I was considering applying for the PhD program, I was unable to attend the information session. I contacted Cyndy, and she scheduled a one-on-one meeting to discuss the program and answer my questions. During that meeting, she asked the inevitable question: "What do you want to study?" I had owned a business prior to attending grad school, so I was primarily interested in small business ownership and entrepreneurship. At the time, I honestly didn't yet understand the concept of research or what it meant to be a scholar. She explained that if I included that in my application letter, I would not be accepted into the program because they did not have any faculty who studied entrepreneurship. She was encouraging and kind but direct, which I always appreciated. After that input and some brainstorming with another faculty member, I was able to identify an initial research topic that was acceptable enough for entry into the program. Thus began my relationship with Cyndy.

During the 14 years I knew Cyndy, she never changed. Her seminar was the first class of my PhD experience. It was hard, but I learned so much. My first assignment was late, and she let me know minutes after the deadline. She was caring but firm. It never happened again.

When I settled on a more concrete research topic, she was supportive when other faculty were not. When I got into an argument with a faculty member (I was their GRA), she could have scolded me and told me to suck it up, but she didn't. She simply switched me to someone else. When I chose to take a job at a teaching school to be close to my wife rather than pursue a traditional research career, she supported me. Anytime I published a paper, whether in a high- or low-ranking journal or one from another field, she celebrated my accomplishments. She never made me feel like I was doing anything wrong, and she never made me feel like I didn't belong.

Cyndy and Mark are the reason I am a professor, and I will be forever grateful for their love and support.

Cyndy was my dance partner in life — and as Ginger Rogers once did with Fred Astaire, she did it all dancing backward, and in high heels.

The daughter of a military father and a homemaker mother, she carved her own path. She ignored the prevailing advice of the time: to get married, stay home, and raise children. She did all of those things, but on her terms — with intellect, grace, and remarkable endurance.

Cyndy was one of the first women to enter the MBA program at UCLA. She became one of the first mothers on the faculty in the Krannert School of Management at Purdue University, and later in the Management Studies Department at the University of Minnesota Duluth. Neither institution, at the time, had policies in place for faculty who were mothers — there were no accommodations, no models, and very few allies. Once, she was even mistaken for a secretary.

And yet she persisted, with calm determination and true grit. She balanced an accomplished academic career with motherhood, raising two brilliant and compassionate daughters, and “mothering” dozens more through her care for doctoral students, junior faculty, and colleagues. Her reach as a teacher, mentor, and friend was wide and lasting.

She was never interested in accolades for their own sake. Though her publications and contributions to the field were meaningful, she would tell you her greatest legacy wasn’t in the pages of journals — it was in the people she impacted.

Cyndy disliked battle metaphors for cancer. She didn't want to be portrayed as a “warrior” or framed in terms of fights lost or won. She believed in endurance. In surviving. In continuing on, even when things were impossibly hard. And she did. She lived long enough to meet our granddaughter, and to form a bond with the future, a thread of love that will outlast all of us.

There is no way to measure her influence on me. She was not just my partner, we were an us, for 44 and a half years. She helped me navigate life’s challenges with clarity, joy, and resilience. And now, in her absence, life feels compressed into only two days:

the day she was with me, and the day she was not.

We will remember her not only for her accomplishments, but for her strength, her kindness, her steady presence, and her remarkable ability to lift others while never seeking the spotlight herself.

She made so many of us better. She certainly made me better.

And her influence lives on. 

My thoughts are with Mark and his family during this difficult time--at the same time, they are truly celebrating a life well-lived. I have known Cyndy (and Mark) for probably around 30 years as fellow academics.  I always enjoyed our interactions on email, in person, as well as over the telephone.  Many years ago, we shared our experiences--in great detail--as our mothers were going through difficult times near the end of their lives.  We could really identify with each other, since we were both "military brats" and had lived overseas. Thus, interactions with our mothers at this time could be challenging. I don't know if I helped her at the time, but she certainly helped me.

While Cyndy was obviously a bright and talented person, I remember her most for the joy and optimism with which she lived her life. I can only imagine how difficult the final years were. But, I am certain that her love of life and family is what helped her definitely beat the odds as far as how long she was able to not only live but also have a reasonably good quality of life--considering her medical condition.

I will always remember her with a smile. She certainly made the world a better place--along with the many people she knew during her life's journey!