David Michael Greenstein

David Michael Greenstein died at home on August 14th, 2025, the arms of his family wrapped around him. David’s passing came 21 months after a glioblastoma diagnosis, 18 months after life-prolonging brain surgery, 54 days after his 58th birthday, eight days before his oldest daughter Ayla returned to college, and 22 days before his 21st anniversary with his wife Kara...David was a numbers guy.

David was born in North Adams, Massachusetts, on the first day of summer in 1967 to Bernard Greenstein and Gail Fern Fleischer, but spent most of his childhood in the Midwest, including Toledo, Ohio (where his earliest memory was sheltering in a basement during a tornado warning), Carmel, Indiana, and Glenview, Illinois.

An only child, David shared almost every interest with his dad, including math, science, tennis, and later skiing and golf, and found in his mom an emotional confidante. His parents took him everywhere with them when he was younger—plays, restaurants, trips, concerts, and parties. He was always energized in the presence of others and by the pursuit of knowledge. A childhood highlight was debating the rabbi’s sermon with his parents during the weekly car ride home from their Reform temple, as was—perhaps ironically—singing Christmas carols on road trips during family holidays. Vacations were often spent with his dad’s large family in New York or with his maternal grandparents and cousins in Florida, where he cherished the sibling-like connection to his mom’s sister’s three sons, who flanked him in age. When friends or cousins were not around, David would resort to playing garage door tennis or chess with “Michael”, his imaginary and slightly less competent companion.

At Glenbrook North High School, David’s inquisitiveness and work ethic made him a stand-out student and tennis player. When it came time to choose a college, he drew a circle on a map with a 450-mile radius around his home (a distance he felt would prevent his mom from “popping in” for the day) and focused his search outside this boundary. He landed at Cornell University in the fall of 1985 and pursued a B.S. in Material Science and Engineering. He loved his freedom, thrived in the academic culture, and, somewhat to his surprise, indulged in fraternity life. He also enjoyed sharing during party conversation later in life that a placement test for Cornell’s First-Year Writing Seminar program matched him into a seminar for students who spoke English as a second language (spelling, grammar, and details were never his specialty). After one day, the professor did boot him back to a standard seminar, but a humbling initiation nonetheless.

David accepted a position as a Manufacturing and Process Engineer with Intel Corporation in Santa Clara, California, after college, beginning a lifelong career in high tech. He embraced the life of an active young professional in Northern California, but six years into his tenure received a fellowship from Intel to attend the MIT Leaders for Manufacturing (now Leaders for Global Operations) program, a dual-master's degree program combining engineering and MBA studies. The two-year period David studied at MIT was perhaps the richest experience of his life. His class of 45 shared a deep camaraderie and intellectual chemistry, many staying friends for life and showing up with enormous generosity and support during David’s illness.

Committed to return to Intel upon graduation from MIT in 1997, David chose a role as a manager in the New Business and Acquisition group at Intel’s Oregon campus. He began to put down roots in Portland and, over time, specialized in supply chain strategy, his time at Intel culminating as Director of Operations for New Product Introduction.

David met the love of his life, Kara, after a mutual friend at Intel brought them together. A flowing two-hour conversation initiated David and Kara’s connection; their similarities were grounding and their differences complementary, and they simply loved being with each other. They started talking in 2002 and for the next 23 years, never stopped communicating. David’s crossword puzzle proposal on a train from Boston to Mystic, CT, en route to visit Kara’s family, was characteristically playful and clever. They married in Mystic on September 5th, 2004.

Daughter Ayla arrived in 2006, and Bryn two years later on Leap Day. David treasured his daughters with all his being. In his last months, when his cancer had largely quieted him physically and verbally, he would listen for the patter of feet outside his bedroom and ask with joyful anticipation, “Which one of my beautiful girls do I hear out there?”

David imparted his wisdom, exploratory spirit, support, and values to his daughters through dinner conversation every night, bedtime stories, regular father-daughter excursions, weekend science experiments, family hikes and runs, and whimsical vacation missions. He took up rock climbing because his girls loved it. He acted in their little plays and iMovies and worked side-by-side creating playdough sculptures. He relearned calculus so he could help with homework. He attended every music recital and climbing competition. He listened to and loved them, balanced work and play in partnership with Kara, giving his girls the gift of a strong, humble, responsible, fun, loving father and partner role model. Far from being deferential in any role in his life, he nonetheless loved to say to his family, “When you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Itching for fresh learning experiences after 23 years at Intel, David was lured by an opportunity to work as a director at Amazon in Seattle in 2012. His young family, happily ensconced in Portland, took a risk to uproot and settle on Bainbridge Island, WA, a new adventure that came with a daily ferry commute across the Puget Sound for David. During the shortest days of the year, he would glide sleepily across the water in darkness morning and evening, but in the summer, he never tired of the gorgeous views and festive boat, especially the Friday commute home when he and his “Ferry Friends” would enjoy a beer from the galley along with spirited conversation.

David worked tremendously long hours as a leader in global operations, appreciating Amazon’s dynamic atmosphere, but finding it increasingly difficult to balance the demands of his position with the desire to be present with his family, explore his myriad interests, and give back. As the COVID pandemic began to wind down in 2021, he made an atypical decision to retire at 54.

His prescient call gave him two years to drive his daughters to school and activities (with Ayla he discussed physics and watched John Oliver, with Bryn he listened contentedly as she downloaded her entire day in one breath), dive back into tennis after a 25-year hiatus, join the MIT LGO Alumni Board, lead an after-school tennis program, join a singing group, become head chef in the family, travel to reconnect with old friends, and date Kara all over again. When he was diagnosed with glioblastoma in November 2023, he and his family took great comfort in realizing he had “no regrets and no unresolved relationships.”

David. Lived. Life. He traveled to six continents, before and with his family. He idolized Einstein and Superman and adored anything by Asimov. He was a passionate realist. He strived to be a leader who helped his employees bring larger meaning to their work. He was driven by curiosity, truth, and fairness. He was unselfconscious and made no one walk on eggshells. He loved to move—at the gym, on the court, on the trail, on the wall. After his diagnosis, until his cancer took away his mobility, he continued to walk almost five miles a day. He had great instincts but approached decisions thoughtfully. He made up for his difficulty remembering names and faces with a genuine interest in people and ideas and an extroverted energy.

David’s penchant for logic and sense of wonder, particularly about math, politics, science, economics, and business, meant he could answer almost any inquiry on these broad topics with at least a conceptual understanding. He knew something about so many things, without pretension. With his loved ones, he was exceedingly loyal and open-hearted. He thought of dishonesty as a “slippery slope” and so was unwaveringly direct and trustworthy (except for the time he snuck a piece of German chocolate cake after telling his girls they couldn’t have any and putting them to bed). He (and his family) were obsessed with dessert and food. He loved his in-laws as his blood family. The mysteries of the universe fascinated and sustained him. Ritually, almost every night just before falling asleep, his habitually anxious partner, Kara, would ask, “David, is everything going to be ok?” “Yes,” he would answer quietly, confidently. Even if she didn’t believe him, she believed him. And so it still goes.

David was preceded in death by his parents Bernie and Gail; uncles Stanton Greenstein and Joel Greenstein; aunt Marilyn Greenstein Klass; and sister-in-law Alaine Davis (Lane Owsley). He is survived by his beloved wife Kara Owsley; children Ayla and Bryn; in-laws Judy and Norm Owsley; aunts Sheila Bruck, Susan Greenstein, and Nancy Ann Greenstein; brother-in-law, Lane Owsley; nephews Coen and Finn Owsley; oldest friend Ruchir Sehra (Karen Underwood); and many cousins and dear friends and colleagues who were with him in sickness and in health. He will be loved forever.