I'm so sad to just learn of David's passing. I went to Hugger and Hart with him (and rode the same bus) but moved to another school district after 7th grade and never saw him again. He was such a smart kid, funny too. It sounds like he had a very full, if short, life. He certainly made an impression, even at a young age. I wish I could have known him as an adult too. I'm so sorry that you lost him so young.

July 3, 2015 we celebrate David all day and late into the evening. This was a David style day with wonderful friends and outdoors for easily 24 hours!  John and Paul swimming, music, boating to Detroit and back, lots of food and drink and a late night Bon fire into the wee hours. Kyle with his lighted frisbee made the back yard come alive!  We all love the memories and miss you, so much.  Miss your smile and hugs.

David I only knew you as a baby and toddler, but even then you were so full of joy of life that I find it difficulty to imagine the world withou you in it.

David,

 Your exits are always devastating to me. I’ve tried to write you time and time again, but the words don’t seem to convey. We would always say that words only diminish our feelings; that they would somehow take away the actual meaning and place it into someone else’s definition. But you were spot on with this “A friendship that exists between two people who were supposed to meet each other, and who might die trying to forget each other”. 

That purple flower had to have been magical.

     While on a vacation to Bucerias Mexico with Sally, Beth, Julie and Dave and me, David's aunt, we had one hysterically funny episode.  It was the middle of the night 2:00 a.m. and Julie and David were making a lot of noise in the kitchen. One by one we all came out to see what the hell was going on. They were making spaghetti.  We all partook of this delicious impromptu meal. What followed was an uncanny laughing fit which got us all rolling on the floor unable to stop. I accused Dave of putting something in the spaghetti. I read the label on the pepper shaker out loud in Spanish.  Somehow the words on the label made us all even more insane. It seems like a dream now. But one of the greatest memories of our trip.You had to be there. Sometimes Dave could make us so angry, but you couldn't stay mad at him. You just couldn't.

I totally credit Dave for doing the unexpected and spreading his glee through all of us.

 Annie

Today the universe was whispering in my ear, urging me to remember.  When I got in the car "Wanna Be a Baller" was playing on the radio.  I smiled, and thought of the white Saturn with the 10" sub in the back, that song cranked up as high as the stereo would go.  Some commercials came on, so I switched to my CD, which automatically began playing "How Bizarre" by OMC.  I got a little choked up.  Back in July the sound of that song on my stereo would reduce me to a sobbing, hysterical pile of grief.  I thought of all our times in my parents' basement watching MTV.  I thought of being 13 and 14 again and making up the legendary Breakfast Song with you and Al in my parents' kitchen.  That summer when you guys came to Colorado to visit for 2 weeks marked some of our best times together.  Remember when you and Al dragged me around the neighborhood, knocking on random doors and asking if there were any kids inside who wanted to be my friend?  You know, I pretty much never lived that down....So now here I sit at work, listening to Pandora, and what should come on but "Bust Your Guns" by Juvenile.  Not everyone in the family is fully aware of your affinity for the most gangster of rap.  Seriously, I've never heard that song on Pandora before, and you're the only other person I knew who liked it.  Like all hip hop, you introduced me to it.  It was another thing we shared.  Miss you lots Dave.  Miss you every single day.  It's those little things that remind me...Wish you were here.

I wrote this letter to Dave from the camp site at Chinn’s lake on Saturday, August 20, 2011. When Dave and I were there over the fourth of July weekend, only a handful of other people were actually camping on the lake’s perimeter.  As I hiked around the lake on August 20th, to my complete surprise every camp site was occupied. Except for the site where Dave peacefully passed away. It’s as if Dave had known I was coming and had reserved that spot for us. I wished I had brought some Coors lights and a fresh loaf of Whole Foods bread. Dave would have loved that.

Dear Dave,

For 49 days I’ve struggled to write you mainly due to the fact that I haven’t been able to accept the fact that you are no longer on this earth.  And now, here I am. At the most beautiful camp site, which you introduced me to on July 2nd. It’s a gorgeous day. Feels about 65 degrees around 2 pm on a Saturday afternoon. Not much snow left here, which made the trek up to Chinn’s a little less strenuous than when we came here together. It’s still and silent, other than the sound of a fisherman casting his line from a canoe about 30 feet from shore. I hiked up here to be alone with you. Tell you what’s on my mind and how I feel.

The last month and a half have been a roller-coaster of thoughts and emotions. The days have been filled with shock, sickness, anger, sadness, sleeplessness, anxiety, guilt, and regret. I’m shocked to think I can no longer see you; be next to you; talk to you; smile with you; laugh with you; cry with you; argue with you; explore new places with you; cook organic meals with you; snowshoe risky terrain with you; have under-water swim competitions with you; play late-night yahtzee with you; drink pinot grigio with you; dance to Michael Jackson with you; fall asleep to Led Zeppelin with you; and be head over heels with you.

I came here in hopes to feel closer to you and to tell you that I will always hold a special place in my heart for you. I want to thank you for the way you’ve impacted me as a person and for changing my life in more ways than anyone ever has. You taught me how to truly love again and how to let go of past heartaches. You taught me how to follow my heart in every situation and how important it is to avoid “wasting time” doing things that aren’t truly meaningful to me. You taught me how to stick up for myself and how to try new things, even if they’re risky or are completely outside of my comfort zone. You taught me that it’s not difficult to make changes and sacrifices in my life to increase my level of happiness to its fullest potential. You treated me as a woman you respected in every way. You showed me how much you loved me every day. You made me feel alive and as if I was the most special woman born on this earth. For all of these things, I will thank you for the rest of my life. Thank you for being my best friend, my companion, my teacher, my adventurer, and for being the truest love of my life. I will always cherish the many memories we share and the joy we brought to each other’s lives.

Love always and forever,

Xoxo Kristie

Beth gave Dave this t shirt at Zanzibar, maybe it was his birthday.

 Notice the ironical message on the T shirt. Typical of David's sense of humor.

 I believe this was a lunch visit with Dave to Zanzibar. Sally was in town with Jeb and we made a trip up to visit Dave.

 This is David and his cousin Ryan in the back yard at Grandma's house.

 This picture shows the two adjoining forts built up in the dunes near the Hawkins cottage by Jamie, Dave, Al, Ryan and Jessie.  I remember one was called the "jess-al-ry" but I don't remember what Jamie and Dave called theirs.  One night the adults were invited down to the forts for a cookout. We roasted weiners on sticks and watched the sun go down over Lake Michigan. These were cherished times because all the kids were happy together. They always learned a lot about nature on these vacations. And of course scrabble was a nightly activity which Dave picked up at a very young age. 

David,

Julie and Dave hanging out at my thesis show at OSU in 2005.  They, along with Beth and my Mom were the first to put on paper mache heads and let everyone else know what to do.  They got the party started.  I'm so glad  they came.  It meant so much to me that they came and I'm indebted to them for making it feel safe and fun  for everyone else. 

Julie, Beth and Dave rocking some paer mache heads.  Julie has on Elias Hicks, Beth has on Abe Lincoln, and Dave has on James Fenimore Cooper.

This is Beth, my mom Ann Kelly, and Dave dancing in paper mache heads I made at my opening in 2005.  It was slow at the beginning of the night and my awesome family, especially Dave got the party started, put on these heads and started dancing.  They broke the barrier and everyone started having a great time. 

Dave is wearing a paper mache head of James Fenimore Cooper, and blue t-shirt in this photo.  This is from my Graduate Thesis show at Ohio State in 2005.  It was a really wonderful suprise that Beth, Julie, and Dave came with my mom and brother Jamie for this.  I hadn't slept in about a month getting ready for the show and was a total mess for the opening.  But the Simons came anyway and it meant so much to me.  They are my 2nd family, Dave, Al and Julie are like siblings to me and Beth and Dan like adoptive parents.  I love them all so much. 

I moved to Denver in May of 2010 and met Dave through some mutual friends of mine from Michigan. Dave and I quickly became close friends which is something that was great for me since I was in a new city. Luckily enough, a room had opened up where Dave was living (The HOF) and he was nice enough to ask me if I wanted to move in. I accepted the invitation of course and from that point on my life changed. Dave just had a infectious way about him to a point where you always wanted to be around him. I have so many great memories of him in just the one year I knew him. I never though that I could become so close with someone in such a short amount of time and to me that is a strong testament to who he was. Any time I had a buddy visiting for the weekend, I would always be excited and proud to introduce them to Dave so that they could see what an amazing friend I had gained. One friend of mine who was visiting had only hung out with Dave for about an hour and when he learned of his passing, the only thing he could say was " Wow, seemed like he was an awesome guy" Words cant describe how much I miss him but I know that he is looking down on all of us with that amazing smile urging us to live our lives to the fullest because that is how he lived his life. Dave will be forever missed but not forgotten. 

Oh, Dave.

I've thought about writing to you so many times in the past few days...or however long it's been, but it's been too hard to get the words out. Like so many people have said, it's just not real that you're gone. Every day there is a moment when it feels like you might just walk in the door and this whole nightmare will be over. There's a sense of relief everyone is looking for that I'm afraid we might not find. 

Some time last week amid the chaos at the HOF, I found myself standing alone in the rain in your garden. I was barefoot in a muddy puddle and just looking at all of the vegetables you planted so carefully. Your lettuce was soaking up the rain and there were tons of peas waiting to be picked. I looked up at the sky and burst into tears. I felt like I was losing my mind - I asked out loud if you were there, in the peas. I was staring at some big weed hoping you'd appear somehow. Maybe you'd be just a little drop of water or maybe a dramatic bolt of lightning. I cried more, feeling silly for asking for comfort in your presence, but just talking to you and telling you that I love you. I don't know if I've ever felt so overwhelmed. 

I want you to know how lucky I feel that you were my friend. Of course it was great to be living in the same city with my cousins, but I'm so proud that I also got to be your friend in this group of hilarious and caring group of people. We grew up so far apart and ended up living 2 miles from each other, working on the same block and shared so many fun times as adults. Again, I feel lucky that our relationship was more than the "obligatory" love of family. 

These past two weeks have been an incredibly trying time for everyone involved, but it has felt so good to hear so many people you cared about tell us that you very recently had gone out of your way to share how happy you had been with how everything was going for you. When we're in rough shape and going through all of the emotions or stages or whatever, we are always uplifted by thinking about how happy you were and how much life you lived. As I'm typing this, I'm really surprised that I'm using the past tense. You're living, Dave. You're living in Julie in all of the advice you've given her and the love you raised her with. You're alive in the memories and funny stories your friends share. You were there with us last night in our bocce game. You live in the hearts and heads of everyone who knew you, whether they were there when you were born or they met you one time. 

I'm almost done...

I'm sorry I come meet up at Chopper's for lunch a few weeks ago. It's time to tell you - I kind of hate that place.

I'm sorry that we had to go through all of your stuff and that we keep looking at all of these pictures of you (with your everpresent smirk) on a public website. I know you would have been kind of pissed about that.

Thank you for the big hugs every single time I saw you. Thank you for coming to Maine in your van after high school to hang with us. I can't believe when we broke down on the way to Boston that you just poured water all over the engine to cool it down and then we kept going. 

Thank you for the Scrabble games. You're currently beating me in a Words with Friends game. It's downright infuriating to me that we won't play again. 

Now, ease up with those thunderstorms and hail in Denver. We know you're there and no one will ever forget. 

I love you, Dave. I'll miss you in many many ways.

xoxoxoxoxo,

Jessie

Dave,

-"Mish"   

Some of my favorite Dave moments have already been touched on by Paul and Ali here are some more funny quotes, hilarious moments, and experiences.

1. "Whoever controls Demaggio controls the world" -Dave playing risk

2. "Barnesssss you lose" -Dave every time I saw him

3. "Say it to my face" -Dave and Demaggio

3. Dave purchasing the van @ a taco bell

4. Cliff Jumping

5. Silverbell and Adams/ Friday night/Saturday night (who didn't do this in Rochester with Dave)

6. Summer Blackout of Rochester Party (Dan Flints)

7. Late start Wednesday/ Late Lunch Thursday

8. The bonfires

9. The fact he teepeed my house and until now I dont think he knows I knew it was him and Paul.

10. Summertimes

I remember the laugh, the adventurer, the charisma, and the white Saturn he drove to school .  Thanks for the great memories man.

Dave,

Dave,

    I am blessed to have the Simon family in my life! They are truly a loving and beautiful family! Everyone contributing to this site is feeling the same way this week .... how could we lose such a warm, intelligent, loveable young man like Dave? He was enjoying the best life has to offer... a good job, a beautiful state to live in and he had met the love of his life,  Kristie!

    Unfortunately for me I did not get to spend time with Dave like I did the rest of his family.  He was off and running at an early age exploring life to its fullest. This thought gives me comfort! I do know that he was blessed with two amazing parents, a great community to grow up in, a brother and sister that loved him to bits and friends galore!  I look forward to getting to know the one Simon I missed getting to know "on the other side!"

I will always remember my cousin David as a smart, fun-loving, and inquisitive guy. He wasn't afraid to question the status quo and he often did things on his own terms. Each summer  we would spend 1-2 weeks up at the Hawkins cottage (on Lake Michigan near Charlevoix) with David and most of the family. We played many games up there: whiffle ball, trivia, volleyball, pool, shuffle board, chess...you name it. It was through these games I realized early on his intelligence and fierce competitiveness. At night we would usually all sit around a bonfire and gaze at the stars. I recall catching the Perseid meteor shower with David on several occasions. I will always cherish those memories. Other than the summer cottage we would always see David at Thanksgiving ( at my parents house). I recall a conversation I had with David one Thanksgiving about ten years ago while sitting around in the Jacuzzi drinking beer. I had just started working and he was telling me that he wasn't going to get stuck in the 9 to 5 routine..he was going to see the world and live life to its fullest. For some reason that conversation always stuck with me and it came into haunting focus this last week when I learned of David’s passing. I rarely saw David these last few years, but from what I've been told and understand he was in fact living life to its fullest and was in a great place. I know David would have gone on to do great things which only makes his loss more cruel and hard to bear. In searching for some solace in his passing…..he was loved by an incredible family, had many friends, and was in a beautiful mountain setting with a girl he loved. I’ll never forget you and I miss you already. -Your older cousin Aaron

I knew Dave through my sister Brianne, and Alex. I was often intimidated by my sister's friends, as they were all a couple of years older than me. But Dave was always warm and friendly toward me. He was a genuinely kind person, and never made me feel like I wasn't cool enough to talk to him. 

I remember riding my bike as a kid, listening to my headphones. Dave pulled up to the curb in the white car he used to drive, and said hey. He went out of his way to say hello to me, someone two years younger whom he barely knew. That meant something to me.

We had a bit of small talk before he asked, "So what are ya doin'? Just riding around, listening to some music?" 

As my brain is often wracked with worry, I probably didn't think of what I was doing as "just riding around listening to some music." I was probably thinking very hard about something I didn't necessarily need to worry about or think about. But something about him saying that has always remained in my mind. I believe it demonstrates that Dave lived in the moment. He made me remember that no matter what I was worried about, all I was really doing was just riding around listening to music. I was doing something simple, something that I enjoyed. What was I worried about? 

Now, when I go for a walk wearing my headphones, I try to remember that I am walking around, listening to music I like. There is no worry so great that should ruin this simple and wonderful thing I have the privilege of doing. It seems odd to say, since I didn't know him well, but that memory of Dave always relaxes me. It puts me in the moment, and reminds me to enjoy my life. I know for a fact that I went back to this memory just a few days before hearing of Dave's passing, and I know I'll go back to it again and again.

I believe Dave enjoyed his life fully. Those are the people you want to have around, be around, and it makes it all the more painful when they go. I have not seen Dave in years, but I will always keep that memory of him in my heart. My thoughts are with his family. 

There wasn't much to occupy a teenager in Charlevoix, MI for two weeks at a time.  Worn out on family time, David and I would spend hours driving around in Johndaddy's Grand Marquis.  Dave would take it down the washed out seasonal roads and we would laugh and laugh as he sped over the bumps.   David was 17 and I was 15 on the day we decided to attempt an operation Dave deemed "Grand Theft Boat."  We were hanging out at the dock in Charlevoix Harbor, bored.  "Let's steal someone's boat!" said Dave with that glimmer of mischief in his eye we all knew and loved.  "And do what with it?!" I was shocked but obviously on board with whatever my beloved, insanely fun cousin suggested.  "We'll just act like it's ours, and then take it out to Lake Michigan!"  It was clear Dave was set on the plan.  At first we thought of taking one of the big boats, but Dave decided that might attract too much attention.  And what if, God forbid, the owner of the boat showed up at the marina?  They would certainly notice their big expensive boat headed out to sea without them!  Dave decided a smaller boat was our best bet. We cased the dock and Dave picked our mark.  It was a tiny inflatable boat tied to a large sailboat.  Hearts pounding, we hopped in and began to giggle.  Anyone who knew David will remember how infectious his giggle was, especially when he was up to no good and you were his partner in crime. Dave started up the boat and steered it through the harbor.  As the gap widened and we left the harbor and entered Lake Charlevoix, another boater maneuvered his boat into the harbor and waved.  We waved back and laughed, shocked at our own bravado.  

Alas, there was a flaw in our plan.  As Dave steered the boat toward the narrow gap that led from Lake Charlevoix to Lake Michigan, the motor died.  We'd been out on the lake for about 5 minutes. We had neglected to check the gas gauge.  Empty.  I could tell David was a little panicked, and that worried me, since he wasn't the fearful type.  He began rowing back toward the dock.  Then the little piece of crap boat started taking on water.  Luckily, we weren't far out and there were some small paddles in the tiny boat.  Dave rowed hard and I bailed the water out with my hands.  As we approached the dock he planned our getaway.  We would return the boat and tie it back up and walk away as though nothing had happened.  Should the cops arrive, David would make a run.  He assured me that they would chase him, and that I should take the keys to the Grand Marquis and drive to Walgreens, where he would meet me after he had shaken the cops.  "But I don't have my license!" I protested.  "You know how to drive, Emma,"  (That was what he and Al called me back then.) "You'll be fine."  As it turns out nobody had called the police on us for taking the crappiest boat in the harbor.  Just like David predicted, no one even noticed.  We walked away as nonchalantly as we could, although the adrenaline had us both giggling uncontrollably.  After we'd safely fled the scene of the crime, we congratulated ourselves on the semi-success of Grand Theft Boat with a Slurpee.  

This is how I will remember you David.  Those better times, when we were little, when we were teenagers.  I loved you so much then and I love you still.  I will never, ever forget.

The title says it all. Though Dave and I kind of went our separate ways over the years, we shared so many great memories. I used to play on the same soccer team as Mr. Simon, and he was quite the young player. From high fives on the field, to playing Duke Nukem on the PC for hours at a time back in middle school there were good times aplenty. One of the things that sticks out in my mind is the time we told his sister (probably about 5-6 at the time) that we were going to visit the man on the moon. It just showed off his creativity. Ha! In reality we were just going to jump the fence in his backyard and go for a hike. Then, of course there was the time a jumping jack (firework) was thrown into the back of a convertible up at Addison Oaks park. We had to take off running through the frisbee golf course, the rv parking section, and back to the campground to avoid capture by a not so happy car owner. Sports, smiles, seriously scary moments, we had them all. The last time I saw Dave was a couple years back out in Grand Junction. Dave, Al, and I went hiking in Bangs Canyon. We had quite a few laughs over dinner. He was a great guy who will truly be missed. See you on the other side Dave.

Early last season pow was very scarce. But sure enough, an early storm came and dumped a foot of fresh and the hunt for pow was on! I met Dave and his buddies Ted and Kelly at Beaverbrook and up to the pass we headed. The boarders mounted boards on backs and attached their snowshoes, beacons, probes and shovels (I with my skins on skis) and we trudged up past the toilet bowl where Rod and Ben had set off aa avalanche years earlier.  Hiked up about an hour or so to ski the 110's. There was no base, just the fresh powder on top of grass and jagged rocks. We hung out on the peak for a good hour. A cloudless Colorado bluebird day, first pow of the year with the promise of many many more sweet days to come riding with freinds in the mountains we love. We knew the descent would be rocky, but it was a very mellow pitch.  Ted and I made a few turns down and set up to take photos of Dave and Kelly. The video starts with Dave saying "Looks like a rocky landing" Ted says "launch that tree" Dave asks "Mark?" I say "sure" and down Dave comes down smooth and fluid as he was, pops the little tree hit, smacks a rock, laughs again, and makes sweet early season pow turns through the trees and down into the forest below.

It's a low quality video of a less than epic run that has taken on a much bigger meaning for me over the past few days. Through the magic of video I  can share this moment with you. I love hearing Dave's voice and laugh.

Love,

Uncle Mark

I knew Dave from High School.  We hung out a lot in 2000, he was especially extra supportive with my parents going through a divorce.  I rememeber he came over to help my Mom put her new furniture together, and helped her with stuff around the house.  He was such an amazing, unique, and extremely caring person.  I am so happy to read that he was in a great place when he passed, I've often thought about him and how great of a person he was.  My sympathy goes out to his family and friends.

Not often does someone come along during this wild journey that makes as much of an impact than Dave Simon.

It hasn't been a long time that I've known Dave; just a few years. But, over those years, I watched him become one of the most driven, compassionate, and hard-working professionals I've ever known. Becoming a friend of Dave's was a great moment, someone I could always look up to, and deliver the same promise during hard times.

Dave was going places. He had just landed a new job at Slawson Exploration, and was managing the environmental and regulatory department. I got to see Dave in his element one day, and he had papers and folders stacked to the ceiling on his desk, so many of them that he had to make room for me just to sit down. The laugh we shared about the number of items on his desk was proof that his sense of humor (that was completely infectious) was ever-present, even among that fresh responsibility and much deserved entitlement.

Dave was such a loyal friend that he brought me onboard to consult for his company. You have no idea how many 'Thank yous' and 'Dude, you rock' were at the end of my emails. In such an unselfish manner, Dave reached out and gave a friend an opportunity of a lifetime. That is what made the biggest difference. I'm going to miss working with you, man.

Thank You for being being such a good colleague, friend, companion, advisor, and just a plain old genuine dude. You will be missed by everyone.

Chris
 

    Dear Dave,

     Since I can’t think of you as gone, I’ll write you this letter. Tell you what’s been going on around here lately. We were with your Mom and Dad the other day. Out on the side porch with your Mom and Dad and Julie when some of your friends stopped by. At first Dave, everybody was crying. Crying and hugging then crying some more. Pretty soon though, pretty soon we were shoulder to shoulder in front of a computer looking at pictures and videos. That’s when people started to smile again. Smile and laugh and tell Dave stories. Crazy funny Dave stories.

     There you were in one video jumping off the turtle belly rocks at Little Presque. Laughing, shouting, waving then splashing into that deep, deep green water of Lake Superior. Then there you were, bare chested with an enormous backpack on, leading a crew of buddies up into the Porcupine Mountains. In one shot you and Al, Jamie and Mark are on some amazing snow topped mountain somewhere in Colorado, about to ski down, with the bluest blue sky behind you I’ve ever seen anywhere.

     In every story you’re the instigator Dave. The guy who dreams up a trip, an adventure on the spur of the moment. The guy calling good friends out of the blue, convincing them to drop what they’re doing, pack, hop in a car and take off. Off to some wild beautiful place.

     I  won’t put you in the past tense Dave. That’s just not how I see you. For me you are the guy who can’t sit still. The guy hatching a million and one plans all at once. The guy always heading out the door, smiling, waving, sunglasses on, another of your endless supply of crazy hats on, off to some new adventure, adventure in a beautiful place with friends. So many friends.

     Time Dave for your Uncle Foolish to shut up. You know how I rattle on and on and on. Time now to hear from other people. Lots and lots of people. Lots and lots and lots of good Dave stories.

                       Love, Uncle Foolish

 Dave

  That first night after we heard  the news I slept in the room next to yours. The air was lit up with fireflies and  all the sweet night sounds that filled your ears when you first arrived as a little boy, the chirping of the crickets, the trilling  of the tree frog, the cooing of the mourning dove, the gaily singing wren nesting below your window, and the wild howls of the coyote in the park.

   Your room, with it’s rock specimens neatly labled, shells gathered on distant beaches, fossils telling the story of earth’s beginnings, waits for your return.  

  You are in the garden, picking peas, snapping off the basil for your pesto, you are dancing, you are climbing, skiing, laughing, swimming, diving, planting, gazing at  the moon and stars in the mountains. Never still for long, always on the move, an acrobatic seeker of life’s wonders, filling the sky with your phosphorescence.

Annie

I keep picturing him smiling.  I think we will hear a lot about that.  And I remember the scamp with the skinny legs flying around the dunes creating mischief.  I remember babysitting for him and how he would not do one single thing I wanted him to!  He ran right into the merry-go-round! I remember him breakdancing spectacularly against a lot of good judgment.  He marched to  his own tune.  I think we have a special kind of love for those who won't stay still, those who give us extra wrinkles.  We can't hold on to them, they have to go!  But he let us in, I am so glad he did.  My favorite picture will always be the one by the mountain lake, smiling.  I know there was a photographer there, but he would have been smiling that that if he were by himself in that place.  Maybe we can all make the world a little bit better for you, Dave.  You will be sorely missed.