Tracy Kidder

It’s hard to believe we’re saying goodbye to Tracy. He left us peacefully on March 26th, 2026, after a brave battle with lung cancer. Born on January 1st, 1946, Tracy wasn’t just a brilliant writer; he was a force of nature, a curious soul, and the most wonderfully quirky person I’ve ever known. I’ll always remember his infectious laugh, the way his eyes would light up when he was truly engaged in a conversation, and his absolute inability to resist a good, slightly obscure fact. He had this knack for finding the extraordinary in the ordinary, whether it was the intricate workings of a computer at Data General, or the tireless dedication of Dr. Paul Farmer in Haiti. Tracy was a devoted husband, a loving father, and a cherished brother. He built a beautiful life with his family, always prioritizing connection and laughter. I know his children will remember him for his endless encouragement, his willingness to listen (really listen), and his terrible, yet enthusiastic, attempts at cooking. He was fiercely proud of them, and his love for them shone through in everything he did. He had a quiet strength, a deep well of empathy, and a genuine desire to understand the world and the people in it. That’s what made his writing so captivating – he wasn’t just reporting facts; he was sharing the heart and soul of the stories he told. His passion for storytelling led him to incredible places and introduced him to remarkable people. Winning the Pulitzer Prize for *The Soul of a New Machine* was a monumental achievement, and *Mountains Beyond Mountains* further cemented his legacy as a literary journalist who could illuminate complex issues with grace and humanity. But for Tracy, it wasn’t about the accolades; it was about uncovering truth and sharing it with the world. He found joy in the process of discovery, in the challenge of crafting a compelling narrative, and in the hope that his words could inspire change. Tracy leaves behind a void that can never truly be filled. He touched so many lives with his kindness, his intellect, and his unwavering belief in the power of human connection. We’ll miss his wit, his wisdom, and his warm, comforting presence. He may be gone, but his stories, and the lessons they taught us, will live on. Rest easy, Tracy. You made the world a better place.