Under any other circumstances, I usually welcome a call from my parents no matter what time of day it is. But when the phone rang at 9:15 this morning and my mother was on the other line, I somehow knew it wasn't with good news...
My grandfather and namesake, David Hudson Smith, passed away early this morning, just three months after my grandmother. Grampa was always the quieter of the two but I was always amazed at his level of physical activity...some of my favorite memories of him are playing tennis with him when he was 70 or 75, still able to run my brother AND me all over the court, seemingly effortlessly. Even up until a couple of years ago we'd regularly descend into the basement of their house and play a few rousing ping-pong matches. The ceiling was so low that we had to look around the lamp shades to see each other when we were standing up straight, but put a paddle in his hand and he was a wizard no matter what game it was. And of course he played a mean hand of pinochle too.
My other favorite memories are those that he's perhaps most well-known for to others - playing the piano and organ. The happiest of course are the Christmas visits where he'd sit down with Gram and play duets together and the rest of the family would sing along. The most bittersweet was watching him calmly playing all of the music at his beloved wife's funeral three months ago. And the proudest moment - for me, anyway - was about eight or ten years ago, when he gave a concert (for his retirement as church organist, I think) at a local auditorium and the place was packed to the gills with friends, family, parishioners and admirers. I remember him striding onto the stage, looking dapper in his white suit, and playing an incredible variety of music - classical, contemporary, slow, fast, somber and playful, including one of his own compositions, I'm pretty sure. During the applause at the end I couldn't help but beam with pride that it was my grandfather up on the stage, still wowing the crowd after all those years.
Goodbye, Grampa...
This morning for some reason, I was motivated to 'google' the late David Hudson Smith, from whom I once rented a small but loveable bungalow. I learned some months after the fact that Gerda and David both passed, and I was sorry not to be there to say a last goodbye.
David was an original... kind and wise and so very fit for nearly all his life. He used to regularly play tennis with Charlie Frost, then the choir director of Central Presbyterian who was thirty-five years his junior. "Charlie hits the ball hard, but doesn't move... so I just hit the ball where he isn't." It was truly fun to watch the steam come out of Charlie's ears as shot after shot would somehow get past him.
Anyway - thanks for giving the world something to read about this wonderful man. I remember meeting you and your family several times, including at the concert you mentioned... Gerda would always speak of you all so proudly, and particularly loved the fact that you carried David's name.
Have a wonderful day, and good luck to you.
Jim McAward
used to be at 87 High Street, Huntington NY, now at 6 Nelson Court, Blue Point, NY 11715 (still on Long Island but far from Huntington.)