From the Editor's Desk

If only there had been another reason--any other reason--for friends and family to gather and hear accolades for Kyawswar Win '05.

This was June 20 in Lorimer Chapel, where a memorial service was held for the young man from Myanmar who drowned when a severe squall swept across Messalonskee Lake, capsizing his canoe. It was a freak accident, a flick of nature's hand, and it ended a life that, even by the standards of an institution blessed with gifted students, held extraordinary promise.

Kyawswar (pronounced SHO-swah) picked Colby off the Internet, taught himself English and singlehandedly worked his way through the admissions process. He arrived on Mayflower Hill with three things going for him: a formidable intellect, an unflinching drive to excel and unquenchable good cheer. "One of the strongest students I've ever had," said Associate Professor of Physics Robert Bluhm. "Phenomenal brain power."

Kyawswar earned two A-pluses from Bluhm, racing through the honors program physics textbook, mastering entire sections that had not been assigned. Even in a classroom full of unusually gifted students, Kyawswar stood out. When, on occasion, other students' questions left Bluhm scratching his head, it was the kid from Myanmar who bailed him out. "He would have the answer," Bluhm said.

Always polite, Kyawswar left his most challenging questions for after class.

His abilities and curiosity crossed disciplines, from science to math to social sciences. Associate Professor Raffael Scheck (history) was blissfully unaware of Kyawswar's science ability and was convinced that he planned to major in history. Kyawswar moved from academics to athletics, too. Golf coach Jim Tortorella recalled a slight guy with a big smile who stayed late after the first golf meeting and confided that he had no clubs, no golf shoes, no way to get to Waterville Country Club for tryouts.

Clubs were borrowed. Someone gave Kyawswar a lift. He stepped up to the tee in his sneakers, swung his driver, and to some onlookers' surprise he was pretty good. Kyawswar played as high as number five on the team but still rode his bicycle or walked to practice. "I'd say, 'Kyawswar, why didn't you ask me for a ride?'" Tortorella said. "He'd say, 'I didn't want to bother you, coach.'"

Kyawswar didn't want to be a bother to anyone during his time at Colby. In fact, he went out of his way to help others with their assignments, with a friendly chat, with his ever-present smile. Assistant Professor of Physics Virginia Long, his first-year advisor, became convinced that Kyawswar didn't actually need her help but sought and accepted it out of graciousness. "He had so much grace," Long said.

That he did, and in Lorimer Chapel that gloriously sunny morning people stepped up to the lectern one by one to recount his warm, gentle nature, his generosity, his self-effacing sense of humor, his curiosity and eagerness to take advantage of every opportunity. Because the fact is that despite all of our plans, our goals, our striving for knowledge and achievement‹the stuff of places like this‹life is by nature precarious and can be ended by something as capricious as a gust of wind.

It's best to treat each day as a gift that might not be bestowed again. Kyawswar did that, and for his presence here and his example, we're grateful.