Thomas Robert Hammer
Apr. 15, 1963 - Feb. 12, 2018
Resident of San Mateo
Tom Hammer passed away peacefully on Mon. Feb. 12, 2018 with his family by his side, holding his hands, and singing Bob Marley songs.
He was born in Los Angeles, CA and grew up in Glendale, CA. He graduated from Glendale High School and University of California, Davis earning degrees in Economics & Japanese. He received his MBA from the University of Michigan.
He bookended his distinguished software and hardware engineering management career at Apple and Microsoft, with a number of technology startups in between, including 3DO, NetObjects, BitSource, Ventro, & Akimbo. A technologist to his very core, his true professional accomplishment was building and mentoring people with keen intelligence, generosity, and vast strength of character.
Tom had a deep and sharp intellect, quick and irreverent wit, and an unlimited ability to cherish every person in his life. An eclectic music lover, avid photographer, and voracious reader, he was always on a quest for knowledge, whether contemplating the origins of the universe or in the pursuit of a good, bawdy joke. His utmost love was for his children, Zack & Zoe. He will forever be a mountain of a man in their eyes and the very core of their hearts.
Tom is survived by his best friend and wife of 22 years, Cherie Wolfe, beloved son Zachary and daughter Zoe, mother Aline Zanteson Kuhnle, sister Virginia Livingston Laughlin, nieces Jessica Laughlin & Kelly Laughlin Seda (Josh), grandniece Chloe Seda, nephews Paul Kohlbry & Marc Kohlbry, mother-in-law Merle Ackerly Wolfe, sister-in law Pamela Wolfe Kohlbry, brother-in-law M. Christopher Kohlbry, and his vast array of friends that spans the entire globe. He is preceded in death by his father Hugh "Mike" Richard Hammer, uncle, Richard 'Dick' Zanteson, his grandmother, Virginia Greenleaf Zanteson, sister Sarah Livingston, stepfather Paul "PK" Frederick Kuhnle, and father-in-law Clarence "Hap" Wolfe, Jr. Private interment at Cypress Lawn Memorial Park, Colma, CA. "Published in San Jose Mercury News/San Mateo County Times on Feb. 21, 2018.
* * *
Tom Hammer, A Mountain of a Man
It was with exquisite and excruciating heartbreak we shared the news of Tom's passing on Monday February 12, 2018. As big and strong as his emotional heart was, his physical one simply could not take another beat. Tom died peacefully with Cherie, Zack, Zoe, and the family's priest by his side, holding his hands, and singing Bob Marley songs. We know his first order of business in Heaven is tracking down his beloved stepfather, PK, and father-in-law, Hap, to continue their spirited debates and soulful countenance.
Tom was born in Los Angeles, CA on April 15, 1963. He grew up in Glendale, CA where he played football, sang opera, ran track, and lived and breathed all things Bruce Springsteen. Surrounded by a large extended family, he grew up as a true Southern California native – preferring sandals over shoes, Tommy's Burgers over Bob's Big Boy and the Dodgers over the Giants. He graduated from Glendale High in 1981. College took him to Northern California, where he eventually settled in San Mateo (as well as corrected his baseball team allegiance). He graduated from University of California, Davis in 1985 with a degree in Economics and a minor in Japanese (in which he was fluent), and he received his MBA from the University of Michigan in 1987.
His MBA summer internship at Apple Computer launched his distinguished career in Silicon Valley. He bookended his software and hardware engineering management career at Apple and Microsoft, with a number of technology startups in between, including 3DO, NetObjects, BitSource, Ventro, and Akimbo. While a technologist to his very core, his true and lasting professional accomplishment was his seemingly effortless knack of building and mentoring teams of extraordinary people, managing with keen intelligence, generosity, and vast strength of character.
Tom had a deep and sharp intellect, quick and irreverent wit, and an unlimited ability to cherish every person in his life. An eclectic music lover, avid photographer, and voracious reader, he was always on a quest for knowledge, whether contemplating the origins of the universe or in the pursuit of a good, bawdy joke. Never happier than when he was on the steepest part of a learning curve, he taught himself a wide array of pursuits from woodworking to photography, cooking to fencing.
His wife, Cherie's, and his relationship began with a secret-Santa gift bag of pistachios at UC Davis. They were each other's best friends for over a decade before life brought them together in love and marriage on May 6, 1995. On that day Tom wrote, "Cherie, you are the light of my life and the promise of my soul. I love you completely and deeply, to the depths of my being." While Cherie might have been his first love, his utmost love was for his children. He adored Zack and Zoe, leaving them the ultimate legacy: he taught them how – and why – to laugh and to love. He will forever be a mountain of a man in their eyes and the very core of their hearts. Every night of their childhood Tom sang Three Little Birds to Zack and Zoe before they went to sleep. Last Monday, Tom's three little birds sang the song to him.
Three Little Birds
Don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Singing' don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Rise up this mornin', Smiled with the risin' sun
Three little birds, Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs, Of melodies pure and true
Saying', this is my message to you-ou-ou…
- Bob Marley
Tom is survived by his wife Cherie (Wolfe), son Zachary, daughter Zoe, mother Aline (Zanteson) Kuhnle, sister Virginia (Livingston) Laughlin, nieces Jessica Laughlin & Kelly (Laughlin) Seda, grandniece Chloe Seda, nephews Paul Kohlbry & Marc Kohlbry, mother-in-law Merle (Ackerly) Wolfe, sister-in law Pamela (Wolfe) Kohlbry, brother-in-law M. Christopher Kohlbry, numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, and his vast array of friends and colleagues that spans the entire globe. He is preceded in death by his father Hugh "Mike" Richard Hammer, his uncle, Richard 'Dick' Zanteson, his grandmother, Virginia Greenleaf Zanteson, his sister Sarah Livingston, his stepfather Paul "PK" Kuhnle, his cousin William Zanteson, and his father-in-law Clarence "Hap" Wolfe, Jr.
Tom was a great man, will be greatly missed, and will always be greatly loved. Source: Sneider & Sullivan & O'Connell's Funeral Home
***
Mountain of a Man By Zack Hammer
When I was born, my dad was a mountain of a man
His summit reached so high that every morning he could share secrets with the sun
Secrets that would never see the light of day because even that celestial fireball knows he could keep one
And when night fell, he would be there to catch it as his shoulders became pillows for the moon to cry upon
And when it was done he would wrap it in a blanket, hand it some warm tea, and smother it in a massive bear hug, all without the need to ask why
Because my dad was a mountain of a man, and I wanted to be just like him
You see when I was little, I wanted to be like my dad
And at the time I thought that meant doing things like fitting an entire saltine cracker in my mouth without breaking it
And I thought that doing things like eating Cheerios with a big spoon instead of the kiddy one meant that I was making it
Because doing things like those meant I was grown up and big, like a mountain, like my dad And while that may be true, as I grew older my dad taught me that being grown up had an entirely different part I wasn't supposed to worry about breaking saltine crackers, I was supposed to worry about breaking hearts.
Because when you consume food, it fills you up inside and makes you feel whole
but when you take a bite out of someone's heart you're flooded with darkness as if that single mouthful had emptied your soul
I wasn't supposed to worry about how I ate my food, but rather to be thankful that I had the privilege to eat it
Because my dad worked hard to give me a good life and taught me to give thanks for my blessings, and to mean it
He also taught me to work hard like himself and I still remember the days when my dad would go out into the garage to do work with wood
And he'd give me my very own hammer, some nails, and a block of pine that smelled of adulterated adulthood.
And so, as if it was my middle name, I would begin to hammer.
Turns out, it's actually my last name, a name which I have since proudly hung like a banner Back then I was the happiest little boy because I got to be like my dad, pounding away at those nails, driving them into that piece of plywood until bristled with a forest of rusty iron And when I finished, my dad would pick it up and smile,
placing it high on the shelf so the world could marvel at the fruit of my trials
You see, my dad taught me to be a builder.
He taught me to work hard at what I achieve.
And so I built things, first with blocks and legos and then with words on the page.
However, my dad also taught me to build things much more visceral and real,
Things I only came to appreciate with age.
He taught me to enjoy simple things like a good book,
And before I could even read, my dad would tell me stories every night before I went to bed.
I would sit on the slope of his mountain as he sucked words off the page
And like the wind, he would blow them into the sky.
And as the sentences would fall like raindrops around me,
I would look up and the stories would wash over my face and I would think to myself
Damn, this is something I've gotta try.You see my dad is a bard.
He can fill a room with laughter just as easily as he can command its silence as he tells a story.He can entertain.
He can connect with people in such an incredible way.
Just the simplicity of his presence is enough to set most minds free of worry.
And when you talk to him, it's like he takes a sip of your personality and as he swallows it, you Can tell by the look on his face that he wants more.
He enjoys you. He can make you feel special.
And when you part ways, he won't forget you in a day or two.
No, you may drift in and out of his mind, but you'll always come back to him
Like the ocean and the shore.
But the most important lesson my dad has taught me is what it really means to be a man.
Some people think that your worth as a man is determined by becoming the embodiment of rippling arm strength
or by showing perpetual stone cold lack emotion
or by sleeping with any woman who looks your way.
But the problem is, you can't arm wrestle your way into someone's heart,
and I can guarantee that your best friend's crippling depression does not care how much you bench, and avoiding girlie things like flowers or the color pink as if they were the plague will not keep you from catching it.
You see my dad proved to me what it really means to be a human being.And he didn't prove that to me by lecturing about some valuable life lesson
or taking me on some spiritual father-son journey into the wilderness
or handing me the mystical scroll etched with the answers of the universe.
No, he did it by lying in a coma.
When I was 14 years old, my father had a stroke.
You see, my dad was literally a mountain of a man, a mountain that had begun to erode from the inside out because it could no longer carry the burden of its own weight.
And yet, no metaphysical metaphor or abstract analogy can explain what that experience was like, for me, my family or my dad.
All I can say is that seeing my father, lying there unconscious, helpless, being kept alive by a machine, was nothing other than surreal.
I remember stumbling out of the intensive care unit and into the waiting room where a sea of faces looked up to meet me.
Most I recognized, some I didn't.
But they all had one thing in common: they loved my dad.
He meant something to them. You see, he had made each and every one of their lives better. He had made such a difference, such an impact in their lives that when his was balancing on the head of a needle,
they all dropped whatever they were doing to help sew him back together.
They sat in that waiting room, because they knew if the roles were reversed he would be the first one sitting in theirs.
It was in that moment that I realized what I meant when I said I wanted to be like my dad.
I didn't need to become CEO of multimillion-dollar business
or an Olympic athlete
or set the world record for the amount of saltines fit in someone's mouth.
I want to make other people's lives better.
I want to have an impact.
I want to make people happy.
I want to be like my dad.
I want my waiting room to be full,
and not because I want to be popular or have a bunch of people care about me.
No I want my waiting room to be full because my life was full. Because my dad taught me that I don't have to be a mountain of a man to move mountains.
Apr. 15, 1963 - Feb. 12, 2018
Resident of San Mateo
Tom Hammer passed away peacefully on Mon. Feb. 12, 2018 with his family by his side, holding his hands, and singing Bob Marley songs.
He was born in Los Angeles, CA and grew up in Glendale, CA. He graduated from Glendale High School and University of California, Davis earning degrees in Economics & Japanese. He received his MBA from the University of Michigan.
He bookended his distinguished software and hardware engineering management career at Apple and Microsoft, with a number of technology startups in between, including 3DO, NetObjects, BitSource, Ventro, & Akimbo. A technologist to his very core, his true professional accomplishment was building and mentoring people with keen intelligence, generosity, and vast strength of character.
Tom had a deep and sharp intellect, quick and irreverent wit, and an unlimited ability to cherish every person in his life. An eclectic music lover, avid photographer, and voracious reader, he was always on a quest for knowledge, whether contemplating the origins of the universe or in the pursuit of a good, bawdy joke. His utmost love was for his children, Zack & Zoe. He will forever be a mountain of a man in their eyes and the very core of their hearts.
Tom is survived by his best friend and wife of 22 years, Cherie Wolfe, beloved son Zachary and daughter Zoe, mother Aline Zanteson Kuhnle, sister Virginia Livingston Laughlin, nieces Jessica Laughlin & Kelly Laughlin Seda (Josh), grandniece Chloe Seda, nephews Paul Kohlbry & Marc Kohlbry, mother-in-law Merle Ackerly Wolfe, sister-in law Pamela Wolfe Kohlbry, brother-in-law M. Christopher Kohlbry, and his vast array of friends that spans the entire globe. He is preceded in death by his father Hugh "Mike" Richard Hammer, uncle, Richard 'Dick' Zanteson, his grandmother, Virginia Greenleaf Zanteson, sister Sarah Livingston, stepfather Paul "PK" Frederick Kuhnle, and father-in-law Clarence "Hap" Wolfe, Jr. Private interment at Cypress Lawn Memorial Park, Colma, CA. "Published in San Jose Mercury News/San Mateo County Times on Feb. 21, 2018.
* * *
Tom Hammer, A Mountain of a Man
It was with exquisite and excruciating heartbreak we shared the news of Tom's passing on Monday February 12, 2018. As big and strong as his emotional heart was, his physical one simply could not take another beat. Tom died peacefully with Cherie, Zack, Zoe, and the family's priest by his side, holding his hands, and singing Bob Marley songs. We know his first order of business in Heaven is tracking down his beloved stepfather, PK, and father-in-law, Hap, to continue their spirited debates and soulful countenance.
Tom was born in Los Angeles, CA on April 15, 1963. He grew up in Glendale, CA where he played football, sang opera, ran track, and lived and breathed all things Bruce Springsteen. Surrounded by a large extended family, he grew up as a true Southern California native – preferring sandals over shoes, Tommy's Burgers over Bob's Big Boy and the Dodgers over the Giants. He graduated from Glendale High in 1981. College took him to Northern California, where he eventually settled in San Mateo (as well as corrected his baseball team allegiance). He graduated from University of California, Davis in 1985 with a degree in Economics and a minor in Japanese (in which he was fluent), and he received his MBA from the University of Michigan in 1987.
His MBA summer internship at Apple Computer launched his distinguished career in Silicon Valley. He bookended his software and hardware engineering management career at Apple and Microsoft, with a number of technology startups in between, including 3DO, NetObjects, BitSource, Ventro, and Akimbo. While a technologist to his very core, his true and lasting professional accomplishment was his seemingly effortless knack of building and mentoring teams of extraordinary people, managing with keen intelligence, generosity, and vast strength of character.
Tom had a deep and sharp intellect, quick and irreverent wit, and an unlimited ability to cherish every person in his life. An eclectic music lover, avid photographer, and voracious reader, he was always on a quest for knowledge, whether contemplating the origins of the universe or in the pursuit of a good, bawdy joke. Never happier than when he was on the steepest part of a learning curve, he taught himself a wide array of pursuits from woodworking to photography, cooking to fencing.
His wife, Cherie's, and his relationship began with a secret-Santa gift bag of pistachios at UC Davis. They were each other's best friends for over a decade before life brought them together in love and marriage on May 6, 1995. On that day Tom wrote, "Cherie, you are the light of my life and the promise of my soul. I love you completely and deeply, to the depths of my being." While Cherie might have been his first love, his utmost love was for his children. He adored Zack and Zoe, leaving them the ultimate legacy: he taught them how – and why – to laugh and to love. He will forever be a mountain of a man in their eyes and the very core of their hearts. Every night of their childhood Tom sang Three Little Birds to Zack and Zoe before they went to sleep. Last Monday, Tom's three little birds sang the song to him.
Three Little Birds
Don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Singing' don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Rise up this mornin', Smiled with the risin' sun
Three little birds, Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs, Of melodies pure and true
Saying', this is my message to you-ou-ou…
- Bob Marley
Tom is survived by his wife Cherie (Wolfe), son Zachary, daughter Zoe, mother Aline (Zanteson) Kuhnle, sister Virginia (Livingston) Laughlin, nieces Jessica Laughlin & Kelly (Laughlin) Seda, grandniece Chloe Seda, nephews Paul Kohlbry & Marc Kohlbry, mother-in-law Merle (Ackerly) Wolfe, sister-in law Pamela (Wolfe) Kohlbry, brother-in-law M. Christopher Kohlbry, numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, and his vast array of friends and colleagues that spans the entire globe. He is preceded in death by his father Hugh "Mike" Richard Hammer, his uncle, Richard 'Dick' Zanteson, his grandmother, Virginia Greenleaf Zanteson, his sister Sarah Livingston, his stepfather Paul "PK" Kuhnle, his cousin William Zanteson, and his father-in-law Clarence "Hap" Wolfe, Jr.
Tom was a great man, will be greatly missed, and will always be greatly loved. Source: Sneider & Sullivan & O'Connell's Funeral Home
***
Mountain of a Man By Zack Hammer
When I was born, my dad was a mountain of a man
His summit reached so high that every morning he could share secrets with the sun
Secrets that would never see the light of day because even that celestial fireball knows he could keep one
And when night fell, he would be there to catch it as his shoulders became pillows for the moon to cry upon
And when it was done he would wrap it in a blanket, hand it some warm tea, and smother it in a massive bear hug, all without the need to ask why
Because my dad was a mountain of a man, and I wanted to be just like him
You see when I was little, I wanted to be like my dad
And at the time I thought that meant doing things like fitting an entire saltine cracker in my mouth without breaking it
And I thought that doing things like eating Cheerios with a big spoon instead of the kiddy one meant that I was making it
Because doing things like those meant I was grown up and big, like a mountain, like my dad And while that may be true, as I grew older my dad taught me that being grown up had an entirely different part I wasn't supposed to worry about breaking saltine crackers, I was supposed to worry about breaking hearts.
Because when you consume food, it fills you up inside and makes you feel whole
but when you take a bite out of someone's heart you're flooded with darkness as if that single mouthful had emptied your soul
I wasn't supposed to worry about how I ate my food, but rather to be thankful that I had the privilege to eat it
Because my dad worked hard to give me a good life and taught me to give thanks for my blessings, and to mean it
He also taught me to work hard like himself and I still remember the days when my dad would go out into the garage to do work with wood
And he'd give me my very own hammer, some nails, and a block of pine that smelled of adulterated adulthood.
And so, as if it was my middle name, I would begin to hammer.
Turns out, it's actually my last name, a name which I have since proudly hung like a banner Back then I was the happiest little boy because I got to be like my dad, pounding away at those nails, driving them into that piece of plywood until bristled with a forest of rusty iron And when I finished, my dad would pick it up and smile,
placing it high on the shelf so the world could marvel at the fruit of my trials
You see, my dad taught me to be a builder.
He taught me to work hard at what I achieve.
And so I built things, first with blocks and legos and then with words on the page.
However, my dad also taught me to build things much more visceral and real,
Things I only came to appreciate with age.
He taught me to enjoy simple things like a good book,
And before I could even read, my dad would tell me stories every night before I went to bed.
I would sit on the slope of his mountain as he sucked words off the page
And like the wind, he would blow them into the sky.
And as the sentences would fall like raindrops around me,
I would look up and the stories would wash over my face and I would think to myself
Damn, this is something I've gotta try.You see my dad is a bard.
He can fill a room with laughter just as easily as he can command its silence as he tells a story.He can entertain.
He can connect with people in such an incredible way.
Just the simplicity of his presence is enough to set most minds free of worry.
And when you talk to him, it's like he takes a sip of your personality and as he swallows it, you Can tell by the look on his face that he wants more.
He enjoys you. He can make you feel special.
And when you part ways, he won't forget you in a day or two.
No, you may drift in and out of his mind, but you'll always come back to him
Like the ocean and the shore.
But the most important lesson my dad has taught me is what it really means to be a man.
Some people think that your worth as a man is determined by becoming the embodiment of rippling arm strength
or by showing perpetual stone cold lack emotion
or by sleeping with any woman who looks your way.
But the problem is, you can't arm wrestle your way into someone's heart,
and I can guarantee that your best friend's crippling depression does not care how much you bench, and avoiding girlie things like flowers or the color pink as if they were the plague will not keep you from catching it.
You see my dad proved to me what it really means to be a human being.And he didn't prove that to me by lecturing about some valuable life lesson
or taking me on some spiritual father-son journey into the wilderness
or handing me the mystical scroll etched with the answers of the universe.
No, he did it by lying in a coma.
When I was 14 years old, my father had a stroke.
You see, my dad was literally a mountain of a man, a mountain that had begun to erode from the inside out because it could no longer carry the burden of its own weight.
And yet, no metaphysical metaphor or abstract analogy can explain what that experience was like, for me, my family or my dad.
All I can say is that seeing my father, lying there unconscious, helpless, being kept alive by a machine, was nothing other than surreal.
I remember stumbling out of the intensive care unit and into the waiting room where a sea of faces looked up to meet me.
Most I recognized, some I didn't.
But they all had one thing in common: they loved my dad.
He meant something to them. You see, he had made each and every one of their lives better. He had made such a difference, such an impact in their lives that when his was balancing on the head of a needle,
they all dropped whatever they were doing to help sew him back together.
They sat in that waiting room, because they knew if the roles were reversed he would be the first one sitting in theirs.
It was in that moment that I realized what I meant when I said I wanted to be like my dad.
I didn't need to become CEO of multimillion-dollar business
or an Olympic athlete
or set the world record for the amount of saltines fit in someone's mouth.
I want to make other people's lives better.
I want to have an impact.
I want to make people happy.
I want to be like my dad.
I want my waiting room to be full,
and not because I want to be popular or have a bunch of people care about me.
No I want my waiting room to be full because my life was full. Because my dad taught me that I don't have to be a mountain of a man to move mountains.
Thomas Robert Hammer
Apr. 15, 1963 - Feb. 12, 2018
Resident of San Mateo
Tom Hammer passed away peacefully on Mon. Feb. 12, 2018 with his family by his side, holding his hands, and singing Bob Marley songs.
He was born in Los Angeles, CA and grew up in Glendale, CA. He graduated from Glendale High School and University of California, Davis earning degrees in Economics & Japanese. He received his MBA from the University of Michigan.
He bookended his distinguished software and hardware engineering management career at Apple and Microsoft, with a number of technology startups in between, including 3DO, NetObjects, BitSource, Ventro, & Akimbo. A technologist to his very core, his true professional accomplishment was building and mentoring people with keen intelligence, generosity, and vast strength of character.
Tom had a deep and sharp intellect, quick and irreverent wit, and an unlimited ability to cherish every person in his life. An eclectic music lover, avid photographer, and voracious reader, he was always on a quest for knowledge, whether contemplating the origins of the universe or in the pursuit of a good, bawdy joke. His utmost love was for his children, Zack & Zoe. He will forever be a mountain of a man in their eyes and the very core of their hearts.
Tom is survived by his best friend and wife of 22 years, Cherie Wolfe, beloved son Zachary and daughter Zoe, mother Aline Zanteson Kuhnle, sister Virginia Livingston Laughlin, nieces Jessica Laughlin & Kelly Laughlin Seda (Josh), grandniece Chloe Seda, nephews Paul Kohlbry & Marc Kohlbry, mother-in-law Merle Ackerly Wolfe, sister-in law Pamela Wolfe Kohlbry, brother-in-law M. Christopher Kohlbry, and his vast array of friends that spans the entire globe. He is preceded in death by his father Hugh "Mike" Richard Hammer, uncle, Richard 'Dick' Zanteson, his grandmother, Virginia Greenleaf Zanteson, sister Sarah Livingston, stepfather Paul "PK" Frederick Kuhnle, and father-in-law Clarence "Hap" Wolfe, Jr. Private interment at Cypress Lawn Memorial Park, Colma, CA. "Published in San Jose Mercury News/San Mateo County Times on Feb. 21, 2018.
* * *
Tom Hammer, A Mountain of a Man
It was with exquisite and excruciating heartbreak we shared the news of Tom's passing on Monday February 12, 2018. As big and strong as his emotional heart was, his physical one simply could not take another beat. Tom died peacefully with Cherie, Zack, Zoe, and the family's priest by his side, holding his hands, and singing Bob Marley songs. We know his first order of business in Heaven is tracking down his beloved stepfather, PK, and father-in-law, Hap, to continue their spirited debates and soulful countenance.
Tom was born in Los Angeles, CA on April 15, 1963. He grew up in Glendale, CA where he played football, sang opera, ran track, and lived and breathed all things Bruce Springsteen. Surrounded by a large extended family, he grew up as a true Southern California native – preferring sandals over shoes, Tommy's Burgers over Bob's Big Boy and the Dodgers over the Giants. He graduated from Glendale High in 1981. College took him to Northern California, where he eventually settled in San Mateo (as well as corrected his baseball team allegiance). He graduated from University of California, Davis in 1985 with a degree in Economics and a minor in Japanese (in which he was fluent), and he received his MBA from the University of Michigan in 1987.
His MBA summer internship at Apple Computer launched his distinguished career in Silicon Valley. He bookended his software and hardware engineering management career at Apple and Microsoft, with a number of technology startups in between, including 3DO, NetObjects, BitSource, Ventro, and Akimbo. While a technologist to his very core, his true and lasting professional accomplishment was his seemingly effortless knack of building and mentoring teams of extraordinary people, managing with keen intelligence, generosity, and vast strength of character.
Tom had a deep and sharp intellect, quick and irreverent wit, and an unlimited ability to cherish every person in his life. An eclectic music lover, avid photographer, and voracious reader, he was always on a quest for knowledge, whether contemplating the origins of the universe or in the pursuit of a good, bawdy joke. Never happier than when he was on the steepest part of a learning curve, he taught himself a wide array of pursuits from woodworking to photography, cooking to fencing.
His wife, Cherie's, and his relationship began with a secret-Santa gift bag of pistachios at UC Davis. They were each other's best friends for over a decade before life brought them together in love and marriage on May 6, 1995. On that day Tom wrote, "Cherie, you are the light of my life and the promise of my soul. I love you completely and deeply, to the depths of my being." While Cherie might have been his first love, his utmost love was for his children. He adored Zack and Zoe, leaving them the ultimate legacy: he taught them how – and why – to laugh and to love. He will forever be a mountain of a man in their eyes and the very core of their hearts. Every night of their childhood Tom sang Three Little Birds to Zack and Zoe before they went to sleep. Last Monday, Tom's three little birds sang the song to him.
Three Little Birds
Don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Singing' don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Rise up this mornin', Smiled with the risin' sun
Three little birds, Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs, Of melodies pure and true
Saying', this is my message to you-ou-ou…
- Bob Marley
Tom is survived by his wife Cherie (Wolfe), son Zachary, daughter Zoe, mother Aline (Zanteson) Kuhnle, sister Virginia (Livingston) Laughlin, nieces Jessica Laughlin & Kelly (Laughlin) Seda, grandniece Chloe Seda, nephews Paul Kohlbry & Marc Kohlbry, mother-in-law Merle (Ackerly) Wolfe, sister-in law Pamela (Wolfe) Kohlbry, brother-in-law M. Christopher Kohlbry, numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, and his vast array of friends and colleagues that spans the entire globe. He is preceded in death by his father Hugh "Mike" Richard Hammer, his uncle, Richard 'Dick' Zanteson, his grandmother, Virginia Greenleaf Zanteson, his sister Sarah Livingston, his stepfather Paul "PK" Kuhnle, his cousin William Zanteson, and his father-in-law Clarence "Hap" Wolfe, Jr.
Tom was a great man, will be greatly missed, and will always be greatly loved. Source: Sneider & Sullivan & O'Connell's Funeral Home
***
Mountain of a Man By Zack Hammer
When I was born, my dad was a mountain of a man
His summit reached so high that every morning he could share secrets with the sun
Secrets that would never see the light of day because even that celestial fireball knows he could keep one
And when night fell, he would be there to catch it as his shoulders became pillows for the moon to cry upon
And when it was done he would wrap it in a blanket, hand it some warm tea, and smother it in a massive bear hug, all without the need to ask why
Because my dad was a mountain of a man, and I wanted to be just like him
You see when I was little, I wanted to be like my dad
And at the time I thought that meant doing things like fitting an entire saltine cracker in my mouth without breaking it
And I thought that doing things like eating Cheerios with a big spoon instead of the kiddy one meant that I was making it
Because doing things like those meant I was grown up and big, like a mountain, like my dad And while that may be true, as I grew older my dad taught me that being grown up had an entirely different part I wasn't supposed to worry about breaking saltine crackers, I was supposed to worry about breaking hearts.
Because when you consume food, it fills you up inside and makes you feel whole
but when you take a bite out of someone's heart you're flooded with darkness as if that single mouthful had emptied your soul
I wasn't supposed to worry about how I ate my food, but rather to be thankful that I had the privilege to eat it
Because my dad worked hard to give me a good life and taught me to give thanks for my blessings, and to mean it
He also taught me to work hard like himself and I still remember the days when my dad would go out into the garage to do work with wood
And he'd give me my very own hammer, some nails, and a block of pine that smelled of adulterated adulthood.
And so, as if it was my middle name, I would begin to hammer.
Turns out, it's actually my last name, a name which I have since proudly hung like a banner Back then I was the happiest little boy because I got to be like my dad, pounding away at those nails, driving them into that piece of plywood until bristled with a forest of rusty iron And when I finished, my dad would pick it up and smile,
placing it high on the shelf so the world could marvel at the fruit of my trials
You see, my dad taught me to be a builder.
He taught me to work hard at what I achieve.
And so I built things, first with blocks and legos and then with words on the page.
However, my dad also taught me to build things much more visceral and real,
Things I only came to appreciate with age.
He taught me to enjoy simple things like a good book,
And before I could even read, my dad would tell me stories every night before I went to bed.
I would sit on the slope of his mountain as he sucked words off the page
And like the wind, he would blow them into the sky.
And as the sentences would fall like raindrops around me,
I would look up and the stories would wash over my face and I would think to myself
Damn, this is something I've gotta try.You see my dad is a bard.
He can fill a room with laughter just as easily as he can command its silence as he tells a story.He can entertain.
He can connect with people in such an incredible way.
Just the simplicity of his presence is enough to set most minds free of worry.
And when you talk to him, it's like he takes a sip of your personality and as he swallows it, you Can tell by the look on his face that he wants more.
He enjoys you. He can make you feel special.
And when you part ways, he won't forget you in a day or two.
No, you may drift in and out of his mind, but you'll always come back to him
Like the ocean and the shore.
But the most important lesson my dad has taught me is what it really means to be a man.
Some people think that your worth as a man is determined by becoming the embodiment of rippling arm strength
or by showing perpetual stone cold lack emotion
or by sleeping with any woman who looks your way.
But the problem is, you can't arm wrestle your way into someone's heart,
and I can guarantee that your best friend's crippling depression does not care how much you bench, and avoiding girlie things like flowers or the color pink as if they were the plague will not keep you from catching it.
You see my dad proved to me what it really means to be a human being.And he didn't prove that to me by lecturing about some valuable life lesson
or taking me on some spiritual father-son journey into the wilderness
or handing me the mystical scroll etched with the answers of the universe.
No, he did it by lying in a coma.
When I was 14 years old, my father had a stroke.
You see, my dad was literally a mountain of a man, a mountain that had begun to erode from the inside out because it could no longer carry the burden of its own weight.
And yet, no metaphysical metaphor or abstract analogy can explain what that experience was like, for me, my family or my dad.
All I can say is that seeing my father, lying there unconscious, helpless, being kept alive by a machine, was nothing other than surreal.
I remember stumbling out of the intensive care unit and into the waiting room where a sea of faces looked up to meet me.
Most I recognized, some I didn't.
But they all had one thing in common: they loved my dad.
He meant something to them. You see, he had made each and every one of their lives better. He had made such a difference, such an impact in their lives that when his was balancing on the head of a needle,
they all dropped whatever they were doing to help sew him back together.
They sat in that waiting room, because they knew if the roles were reversed he would be the first one sitting in theirs.
It was in that moment that I realized what I meant when I said I wanted to be like my dad.
I didn't need to become CEO of multimillion-dollar business
or an Olympic athlete
or set the world record for the amount of saltines fit in someone's mouth.
I want to make other people's lives better.
I want to have an impact.
I want to make people happy.
I want to be like my dad.
I want my waiting room to be full,
and not because I want to be popular or have a bunch of people care about me.
No I want my waiting room to be full because my life was full. Because my dad taught me that I don't have to be a mountain of a man to move mountains.
Apr. 15, 1963 - Feb. 12, 2018
Resident of San Mateo
Tom Hammer passed away peacefully on Mon. Feb. 12, 2018 with his family by his side, holding his hands, and singing Bob Marley songs.
He was born in Los Angeles, CA and grew up in Glendale, CA. He graduated from Glendale High School and University of California, Davis earning degrees in Economics & Japanese. He received his MBA from the University of Michigan.
He bookended his distinguished software and hardware engineering management career at Apple and Microsoft, with a number of technology startups in between, including 3DO, NetObjects, BitSource, Ventro, & Akimbo. A technologist to his very core, his true professional accomplishment was building and mentoring people with keen intelligence, generosity, and vast strength of character.
Tom had a deep and sharp intellect, quick and irreverent wit, and an unlimited ability to cherish every person in his life. An eclectic music lover, avid photographer, and voracious reader, he was always on a quest for knowledge, whether contemplating the origins of the universe or in the pursuit of a good, bawdy joke. His utmost love was for his children, Zack & Zoe. He will forever be a mountain of a man in their eyes and the very core of their hearts.
Tom is survived by his best friend and wife of 22 years, Cherie Wolfe, beloved son Zachary and daughter Zoe, mother Aline Zanteson Kuhnle, sister Virginia Livingston Laughlin, nieces Jessica Laughlin & Kelly Laughlin Seda (Josh), grandniece Chloe Seda, nephews Paul Kohlbry & Marc Kohlbry, mother-in-law Merle Ackerly Wolfe, sister-in law Pamela Wolfe Kohlbry, brother-in-law M. Christopher Kohlbry, and his vast array of friends that spans the entire globe. He is preceded in death by his father Hugh "Mike" Richard Hammer, uncle, Richard 'Dick' Zanteson, his grandmother, Virginia Greenleaf Zanteson, sister Sarah Livingston, stepfather Paul "PK" Frederick Kuhnle, and father-in-law Clarence "Hap" Wolfe, Jr. Private interment at Cypress Lawn Memorial Park, Colma, CA. "Published in San Jose Mercury News/San Mateo County Times on Feb. 21, 2018.
* * *
Tom Hammer, A Mountain of a Man
It was with exquisite and excruciating heartbreak we shared the news of Tom's passing on Monday February 12, 2018. As big and strong as his emotional heart was, his physical one simply could not take another beat. Tom died peacefully with Cherie, Zack, Zoe, and the family's priest by his side, holding his hands, and singing Bob Marley songs. We know his first order of business in Heaven is tracking down his beloved stepfather, PK, and father-in-law, Hap, to continue their spirited debates and soulful countenance.
Tom was born in Los Angeles, CA on April 15, 1963. He grew up in Glendale, CA where he played football, sang opera, ran track, and lived and breathed all things Bruce Springsteen. Surrounded by a large extended family, he grew up as a true Southern California native – preferring sandals over shoes, Tommy's Burgers over Bob's Big Boy and the Dodgers over the Giants. He graduated from Glendale High in 1981. College took him to Northern California, where he eventually settled in San Mateo (as well as corrected his baseball team allegiance). He graduated from University of California, Davis in 1985 with a degree in Economics and a minor in Japanese (in which he was fluent), and he received his MBA from the University of Michigan in 1987.
His MBA summer internship at Apple Computer launched his distinguished career in Silicon Valley. He bookended his software and hardware engineering management career at Apple and Microsoft, with a number of technology startups in between, including 3DO, NetObjects, BitSource, Ventro, and Akimbo. While a technologist to his very core, his true and lasting professional accomplishment was his seemingly effortless knack of building and mentoring teams of extraordinary people, managing with keen intelligence, generosity, and vast strength of character.
Tom had a deep and sharp intellect, quick and irreverent wit, and an unlimited ability to cherish every person in his life. An eclectic music lover, avid photographer, and voracious reader, he was always on a quest for knowledge, whether contemplating the origins of the universe or in the pursuit of a good, bawdy joke. Never happier than when he was on the steepest part of a learning curve, he taught himself a wide array of pursuits from woodworking to photography, cooking to fencing.
His wife, Cherie's, and his relationship began with a secret-Santa gift bag of pistachios at UC Davis. They were each other's best friends for over a decade before life brought them together in love and marriage on May 6, 1995. On that day Tom wrote, "Cherie, you are the light of my life and the promise of my soul. I love you completely and deeply, to the depths of my being." While Cherie might have been his first love, his utmost love was for his children. He adored Zack and Zoe, leaving them the ultimate legacy: he taught them how – and why – to laugh and to love. He will forever be a mountain of a man in their eyes and the very core of their hearts. Every night of their childhood Tom sang Three Little Birds to Zack and Zoe before they went to sleep. Last Monday, Tom's three little birds sang the song to him.
Three Little Birds
Don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Singing' don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Rise up this mornin', Smiled with the risin' sun
Three little birds, Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs, Of melodies pure and true
Saying', this is my message to you-ou-ou…
- Bob Marley
Tom is survived by his wife Cherie (Wolfe), son Zachary, daughter Zoe, mother Aline (Zanteson) Kuhnle, sister Virginia (Livingston) Laughlin, nieces Jessica Laughlin & Kelly (Laughlin) Seda, grandniece Chloe Seda, nephews Paul Kohlbry & Marc Kohlbry, mother-in-law Merle (Ackerly) Wolfe, sister-in law Pamela (Wolfe) Kohlbry, brother-in-law M. Christopher Kohlbry, numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, and his vast array of friends and colleagues that spans the entire globe. He is preceded in death by his father Hugh "Mike" Richard Hammer, his uncle, Richard 'Dick' Zanteson, his grandmother, Virginia Greenleaf Zanteson, his sister Sarah Livingston, his stepfather Paul "PK" Kuhnle, his cousin William Zanteson, and his father-in-law Clarence "Hap" Wolfe, Jr.
Tom was a great man, will be greatly missed, and will always be greatly loved. Source: Sneider & Sullivan & O'Connell's Funeral Home
***
Mountain of a Man By Zack Hammer
When I was born, my dad was a mountain of a man
His summit reached so high that every morning he could share secrets with the sun
Secrets that would never see the light of day because even that celestial fireball knows he could keep one
And when night fell, he would be there to catch it as his shoulders became pillows for the moon to cry upon
And when it was done he would wrap it in a blanket, hand it some warm tea, and smother it in a massive bear hug, all without the need to ask why
Because my dad was a mountain of a man, and I wanted to be just like him
You see when I was little, I wanted to be like my dad
And at the time I thought that meant doing things like fitting an entire saltine cracker in my mouth without breaking it
And I thought that doing things like eating Cheerios with a big spoon instead of the kiddy one meant that I was making it
Because doing things like those meant I was grown up and big, like a mountain, like my dad And while that may be true, as I grew older my dad taught me that being grown up had an entirely different part I wasn't supposed to worry about breaking saltine crackers, I was supposed to worry about breaking hearts.
Because when you consume food, it fills you up inside and makes you feel whole
but when you take a bite out of someone's heart you're flooded with darkness as if that single mouthful had emptied your soul
I wasn't supposed to worry about how I ate my food, but rather to be thankful that I had the privilege to eat it
Because my dad worked hard to give me a good life and taught me to give thanks for my blessings, and to mean it
He also taught me to work hard like himself and I still remember the days when my dad would go out into the garage to do work with wood
And he'd give me my very own hammer, some nails, and a block of pine that smelled of adulterated adulthood.
And so, as if it was my middle name, I would begin to hammer.
Turns out, it's actually my last name, a name which I have since proudly hung like a banner Back then I was the happiest little boy because I got to be like my dad, pounding away at those nails, driving them into that piece of plywood until bristled with a forest of rusty iron And when I finished, my dad would pick it up and smile,
placing it high on the shelf so the world could marvel at the fruit of my trials
You see, my dad taught me to be a builder.
He taught me to work hard at what I achieve.
And so I built things, first with blocks and legos and then with words on the page.
However, my dad also taught me to build things much more visceral and real,
Things I only came to appreciate with age.
He taught me to enjoy simple things like a good book,
And before I could even read, my dad would tell me stories every night before I went to bed.
I would sit on the slope of his mountain as he sucked words off the page
And like the wind, he would blow them into the sky.
And as the sentences would fall like raindrops around me,
I would look up and the stories would wash over my face and I would think to myself
Damn, this is something I've gotta try.You see my dad is a bard.
He can fill a room with laughter just as easily as he can command its silence as he tells a story.He can entertain.
He can connect with people in such an incredible way.
Just the simplicity of his presence is enough to set most minds free of worry.
And when you talk to him, it's like he takes a sip of your personality and as he swallows it, you Can tell by the look on his face that he wants more.
He enjoys you. He can make you feel special.
And when you part ways, he won't forget you in a day or two.
No, you may drift in and out of his mind, but you'll always come back to him
Like the ocean and the shore.
But the most important lesson my dad has taught me is what it really means to be a man.
Some people think that your worth as a man is determined by becoming the embodiment of rippling arm strength
or by showing perpetual stone cold lack emotion
or by sleeping with any woman who looks your way.
But the problem is, you can't arm wrestle your way into someone's heart,
and I can guarantee that your best friend's crippling depression does not care how much you bench, and avoiding girlie things like flowers or the color pink as if they were the plague will not keep you from catching it.
You see my dad proved to me what it really means to be a human being.And he didn't prove that to me by lecturing about some valuable life lesson
or taking me on some spiritual father-son journey into the wilderness
or handing me the mystical scroll etched with the answers of the universe.
No, he did it by lying in a coma.
When I was 14 years old, my father had a stroke.
You see, my dad was literally a mountain of a man, a mountain that had begun to erode from the inside out because it could no longer carry the burden of its own weight.
And yet, no metaphysical metaphor or abstract analogy can explain what that experience was like, for me, my family or my dad.
All I can say is that seeing my father, lying there unconscious, helpless, being kept alive by a machine, was nothing other than surreal.
I remember stumbling out of the intensive care unit and into the waiting room where a sea of faces looked up to meet me.
Most I recognized, some I didn't.
But they all had one thing in common: they loved my dad.
He meant something to them. You see, he had made each and every one of their lives better. He had made such a difference, such an impact in their lives that when his was balancing on the head of a needle,
they all dropped whatever they were doing to help sew him back together.
They sat in that waiting room, because they knew if the roles were reversed he would be the first one sitting in theirs.
It was in that moment that I realized what I meant when I said I wanted to be like my dad.
I didn't need to become CEO of multimillion-dollar business
or an Olympic athlete
or set the world record for the amount of saltines fit in someone's mouth.
I want to make other people's lives better.
I want to have an impact.
I want to make people happy.
I want to be like my dad.
I want my waiting room to be full,
and not because I want to be popular or have a bunch of people care about me.
No I want my waiting room to be full because my life was full. Because my dad taught me that I don't have to be a mountain of a man to move mountains.
