“A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.”
- Charles Darwin
Obituary
George Edward Goslow Jr. (AKA Ted Goslow) passed away peacefully at home with his son by his side on May 5, 2025, in Flagstaff, AZ, at the age of 85. Ted was born in Tacoma, WA on May 16, 1939, to loving parents George and Frances Goslow. As a boy growing up in the Puget Sound Region of the Northwest, as well as spending some of his early teen years living on the Front Range of the Colorado Rocky Mountains near Boulder, had a profound impact on his life’s passion to explore and experience the grandeur of nature. He carried these early lessons with him his entire life and wanted nothing more than to share his passion for experiencing the splendor of the outdoors with others. Whether he was with a friend fly fishing the Alagnak River in Alaska, snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef, hiking the Grand Canyon and fishing along Bright Angel creek, walking ocean sands, exploring Mexico tidepools, or canoeing down a river, he was always planning his next great outdoor adventure.
Ted’s mom Fran had a tremendous impact on his work ethic, serving as his greatest inspiration, as she at one time supported her family working in a salmon cannery in the Salmon Canning Capital of the World, Anacortes, Washington. He was also deeply influenced by his grandfather who was the captain and owner of The Retriever. Sailing out of Anacortes, this fishing vessel was the first cannery boat in Alaska. There is no doubt that the seeds of curiosity planted by those who inspired him led to his academic achievements that began when he graduated from Anacortes High School in 1957. He received his bachelor’s degree from UCLA in 1964, his master’s degree from Humboldt University in 1965, and his PhD from University of California, Davis under the auspices of the famous comparative anatomist Milton Hildebrandt in 1967. He then became a celebrated professor at Northern Arizona University where he taught from 1968 – 1989. His time at NAU was punctuated by his ever-expanding dream to further his science and this included focused time with Doug Stuart, PhD at the University of Arizona and two sabbaticals at Harvard University with the venerable comparative anatomist and anthropologist Farish Jenkins, PhD in 1978 and 1986. Living in the mountains of Flagstaff, Arizona had a profound impact on his love of nature and the environment as he spent days exploring the Colorado Plateau, the alpine zone of the San Francisco Peaks and the flora and fauna of the Grand Canyon. He was then recruited by Brown University to lead their medical school’s Human Morphology class where he remained until his retirement in 2004. While at both NAU and Brown, Ted continued to expand and further his scientific reach, conducting research at the Cambridge Field Station, Friday Harbor in Puget Sound, as a “human locomotion” advisor for Nike, and working on pushing the boundaries of peripheral nerve regeneration with hometown company Gore.
Wondrous Science: As dedicated as Ted was to his family, the outdoors, and the environment, he was equally dedicated to legions of students and scientists across the globe, many of which he kept in close touch with until his death. A lauded teacher known for putting muscle-recording electrodes in his biceps and doing chin ups in front of a packed auditorium to demonstrate coordinated muscle activation, to bringing his pet skunk Pepe to lectures in order to demonstrate the movement of the leg during locomotion, or preparing fantastic and detailed dissections to teach anatomy to medical students, his teaching was designed to creatively demonstrate the wondrous underpinnings of evolutionary biology, vertebrate locomotion and anatomy. His early work on vertebrate functional morphology not only advanced the entire field of organismal biology but also launched multiple techniques that were applied widely to the study of vertebrates, including salamanders, fish, reptiles, and birds. His later work on the evolution of bird flight included several key discoveries that shed light on how bird flight evolved. He asked – and answered – fascinating questions such as "What does the wishbone do?" or "How does a bird elevate the wing?" or “How does a Redtail Hawk in a split-second tuck its wings and dive 1000 feet before activating talons and killing prey"? Through diligence and deep, hypothesis-based science, combined with unending creativity and hard work, Ted achieved something that was truly special in the field of science. One might call it Wondrous Science. It's a fitting genre – everything Ted did in science and education was wondrous. Ted used his laboratory as a classroom and a forum for learning, and he used to say as much. His lab famously served as a giant "science demonstration" where lectures were combined with data collection, animal surgery was mixed with conversations about the masters of anatomy, and lessons in biology were solidified by taking students to the seashore to marvel in the tidepools of Mexico. No matter the context – the classroom, the shore, a van driving to Mexico, an anatomy lab – those who were lucky enough to experience Ted Goslow in action had their lives changed in some way for the better.
Ted is survived by, and was the proud father of, Leslie and Peter, father-in-law to Bobby, Beth, and Rosanne, and an amazing “grandpa Teddy” to Robert, Riley (Big 'O'), Rebekah, Remington, Rayanna, Theodore (Teddy), and Evan. Preceding him in death was his eldest son Paul, his brother Bill and sister Diane, whose memories he carried in his heart until his passing. Ted will be remembered as a masterful scientist, author, teacher, educator, student advisor, adventurer, angler, bird watcher/ornithologist, world traveler and most importantly, one of the best friends anyone could possibly have. He will be missed by all.
My dad Ted
My name is Pete and I am Ted’s youngest son. I’m sharing this letter with an immense amount of pride, gratitude, and honor as I had the immeasurable fortune of calling this man my father. Ted Goslow was a man of many facets – brilliant scientist, passionate educator, loving father, husband, brother, uncle, grandfather, friend, and an adventurer at heart. But above all, he was kind, humble, and compassionate.
Dad lived a life punctuated by adventures which were life-shaping for our family and those who ventured with him. In 1978, when I was just 8 years old, he packed our entire family – three kids and a dog – into a Volkswagen Bus for a yearlong sabbatical that would take us from our home in Flagstaff, Arizona to Cambridge, Massachusetts. True to form, Dad didn't just drive us straight to Cambridge. No, he decided we would zigzag across the entire country for two months. The journey was filled with camping under the stars, exploring national parks and monuments, fishing, hiking and just plain having fun. That trip and sabbatical year was a perfect encapsulation of who my father was – curious, spontaneous, and always eager to share the wonders of the world with his family.
Dad’s passion for learning was infectious. I can hardly remember a time when he didn't have a book in his hand. His curiosity was boundless, whether he was exploring historical sites, discussing philosophy, or simply observing nature. He loved to learn. Despite his considerable intellect and achievements, he never wanted to impress or show off. He had an incredible ability to make everyone around him feel comfortable and valued. He used his brilliance to inspire and uplift others. His outgoing and energetic personality drew students to his courses, and many of his graduate students and colleagues became extended family to us. My sister and I share some of our dearest life-long treasured friends that were former students.
As a father, he was nothing short of extraordinary. Despite the demands of his career, he rarely missed a game or event. He had a way of making each of us - myself, my sister Leslie, and my brother Paul - feel uniquely special and unconditionally loved. Dad's relationship with my sister Leslie was particularly special. She was the jewel of his eye, his confidant, and his very close friend. Their bond was a beautiful testament to the depth of love a father can have for his daughter. Leslie was the first to have children of her own and dad took great joy in the role of being a grandfather – the grandkids endearingly call him “grandpa Teddy”.
Fishing was one of Dad's joys. He loved being outdoors – hunting, kayaking, canoeing, biking, running, sailing – but fishing held a special place in his heart, and he had been at it since he was a little boy. I always took for granted that he'd be there to tie the fancy knots or help me out when I needed it. Now, I realize that fishing will have a whole new meaning for me – a way to connect with his memory and appreciate the time we spent together. Perhaps what I'll miss most are our daily conversations. Dad had this amazing gift of being fully present with whoever he was talking to. He would drop everything to focus on his friends, to really listen and engage. And if a friend mentioned a book they were reading or an author they liked, you could bet that the next time they spoke, he'd have read it too just so he could discuss it with them. Dad and my brother Paul were kindred spirits in their deep love of books and intellectual discussions.
Ted Goslow had a gift for friendship that was truly remarkable. He cultivated relationships across the globe, nurturing them with the same care and attention he gave to everything in life. Dad was a master of the lost art of letter writing. His thoughtfully crafted messages, often written on beautifully selected stationery or hand painted cards, were treasured by all who received them. He had a way of making each person feel seen and valued, whether through a carefully chosen book, a shared adventure, or simply his undivided attention. When friends or family visited, Dad was unparalleled at being a consummate host. Visitors to his home were treated to gourmet meals, carefully planned outings, and conversations that could last long into the night.
One could say my dad lived by the philosophy of leading by example. He demonstrated to me early in my life the importance of finding a passion and pursuing it. Along my journey through life, he nurtured and cheered me on the entire way. He was always proud of me as I was of him. I have to admit that saying goodbye to him for now is one of the greatest sorrows of my life as our bond was so strong and enduring. I also know in my heart that his legacy is vast. It resides in the hearts of his family, in the minds of his students, and in the community he built around him. We are all better for having known him, for having loved him, and for having been loved by him.
Gallery
Story Wall
We became friends when we had labs next to each other. Our friendship was cemented by frequent cross country ski trips to Vermont and New Hampshire with my husband Don and I.
Both Ted and Don and I retired within months of each other and surprisingly we both had decided to move to Bend,OR. Ted moved a few months before us and kept us posted on our new town. He was there to greet us when we arrived and together we made a lovely new group of friends. We had Ted's company for a few years before he moved to Portland and then on to Arizona. We missed him greatly after he moved.
Ted was one of the kindest, most caring people I knew. He was a caregiver who was always there for his family and friends, and I was so glad that he was with his children and grandchildren at the end of his life. The world was a better place with Ted in it and he will be sorely missed. I love you and miss you, my dear friend.
Sandy Kunz
Thanks, Ted for all you gave us.
Love,
Don
There are no words to express the depth of my love for you. Or how much reconnecting with you the last few years of your life have meant to me. I’m so deeply grateful we spoke just a few weeks before you passed, and that I got to hear your loving voice one last time.
I was so lucky to be in your very last anatomy class, and to have met you just as you were retiring from your long, remarkable career. I smile when I think back on how we first met (I was such a terrible anatomy student!), and how after that first time we met in your office and you explained some part of the body to me (I think it must have been a limb of some kind), that I don’t think we spoke about anatomy or biology much ever again.
Our connection was special and on another wavelength from the very beginning, on a soul level, as you and I have reflected. It has always been precious to me. I treasure all the conversations and letters we shared back and forth through the years - about life, meaning, purpose, our calling, serving others, and love. We cut straight to the heart of what is most important, from the very start. I cherish our relationship, and treasure having reconnected so many years later after having lost touch. Your return into my life these last 6 years have meant the world to me. You have been my soul friend, my supporter, and my precious friend, since the day we first met.
I am loving learning more about your life before we met, of the young man, father and person you were. And I am enjoying so much reading the stories and memories shared by your family, friends, colleagues and former students who have been loved by you throughout your life, too. Of course, I’m not surprised that everyone felt seen, valued, loved and cherished by you – this is who you were. And of course, even after knowing you for over 20 years, only now am I learning about your many remarkable scientific and academic achievements. You were so humble, Ted. I’ve always known this about you. I’ve always known there was such a depth and brilliance within you, and yet it was never about you. In the world of medicine and academia, I have not yet known another human being as humble, kind, compassionate, and without ego - as you.
I treasure the chapters from your unpublished book that you poured so much of yourself into and shared with me after we last spoke. As I read your words, and admire each carefully chosen illustration and photograph, it’s like you’re sitting right here next to me. Sharing with and inspiring in me the wonder and miracle of the human body, in the way only you could.
I’m struck by how much you have taught me – and continue to teach me, especially now. I will always cherish our very last conversation just a few weeks before your death, and our reflections on The Well-Lived Life that I had sent you. When I asked you what your key takeaway was, your answer was simple and so like you - “It’s about our connection with others.” This says it all.
You have taught me that our unconditional loving presence is all that truly matters. Not what we do, what we achieve or accomplish, what we create or even what we say. It’s our love and our unconditional loving presence. It’s that simple. And this is who you were – in your essence, at your core. A humble, unconditionally loving presence with a deep curiosity, love, awe and appreciation for beauty and the wonder of life.
My dearest friend, I only hope I can be a fraction of the loving presence to others, as you have always been to me. You are my compass for who I want to be in the world. You will always be in my heart, for the rest of my life. You are ever present with me. I love you, and I will always miss you, Ted.
With all my love,
Tamara
He saved us. Our time spent with Ted was more than meets the eye. His love for his family and dear friends spilled over into our conversations and we will always treasure the joy of having him in our lives (for the short but precious season).
“What is love my dearest,
And where can it be found?
It is the warmth by which we live”
excerpt from Joy Finz poem- Where is Truth
Our lives truly are an offering.
It was thanks to that trip that Ted and Chris began their fishing tradition over the years, including recent fall visits to participate in the Martha’s Vineyard Striped Bass and Bluefish Derby.
Ted’s generosity with his attention, interest, and time were a treasure to us. We delighted in his thoughtful, sweet, and wise company. He treated us like family. He was family. We miss him dearly.
To the family, sending my love to every one of you. He will surely be missed, but he lives on through each of you. ❤️
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