The holiday season has begun and fellowship and good cheer warm the cockles of anyone’s heart. Unfortunately life isn’t on the same page as the human race a lot of the time. Chris Davis, after an all too brief battle with the big C, passed away. I attended his memorial service last night at our local Unitarian church.
The “sanctuary,” if I can call it that, not being a Unitarian, had been set up with tables and chairs so, in a manner thought to be consistent with Chris’s open and giving style, those who came could mingle together and have time to remember Chris and find fellowship with mutual friends and acquaintances. Photos from Chris’s life played on a slideshow projected on the wall. However, several hundred people showed up; the tables were soon put away and more chairs were put in place, filling the large room.
I was far from being Chris’s best friend but I knew him since I was a teenager. That was a long time ago. Chris was a force, a driving force that edified and uplifted everyone around him. The number of people who showed up to honor his memory is positive proof.
It’s been a long time since one man changed the world. With all the horror, injustice, and downright barbarism rampant in the world today one man is most likely overwhelmed. What can one man do in the face of such insurmountable odds? Not much, it seems. All most people can do is keep their heads down, go with the flow, and try to make things work out.
Chris may not have changed the world, per se. It’s safe to say, though, that he changed the worlds of the people he affected. He treated everyone as he would treat himself. He had love, love of music and art, love of people! This was obvious even to a by-standing outsider like myself. Uplifting souls like Chris are few and far between.
My father was a world-class oncohematopathologist, a cellular disease–cancer, research scientist and educator. He gave lectures all over the world and wrote a number of text books on the subject of leukemia. As a naval captain he headed his department at Bethesda Naval Hospital in DC. He was an educator at Milton Hershey, Bethesda, Loyola University in Chicago, and the University of Cincinnati and had a string of acronyms after his name. My father saved lives and is still doing so through his textbooks.
Why do I bring this up? Dad had a profound impact on many people’s lives, a lot of them alive today because of his efforts. There were only about 40 people at his funeral. Perhaps in the lofty ivory tower of science you don’t make that many friends? I don’t know.
So why did so many people show up for Chris’s service? Chris was no rocket scientist, no world leader, no pious theologian, no towering giant of history. However, he was indeed a human being with a positive, unsinkable attitude; he touched peoples’ lives directly. He was a grass roots hero, a testament to what one man can do.
How can we best remember and honor Chris? It’s simple, really.
Follow his example.