As many of you know, the Florida Magazine Association will honor Doug by awarding a journalism scholarship in his name on August 7 at their annual conference. I plan to attend and read the following tribute:

It is a privilege to be with you today to help present the Doug Damerst scholarship to this year’s deserving recipient. Helping young adults was a passion of Doug’s, so this award is very appropriate, and I thank the FMA for creating this scholarship in Doug’s honor. Brittany, my heartfelt congratulations go out to you and your family for this wonderful achievement.

As many of you know, Doug passed away last year from an aggressive form of Lymphoma. He fought valiantly, as he so often did in many areas of his life, and he literally worked for both his employer and the FMA up until the very end, not because he had to, but because he loved his work that much.

Thirty-five years ago, while working as Public Relations manager for AAA Colorado, Doug placed an ad in the Denver Post for a Publication Artist. I applied for the position, and was called in for an interview.

Chin held high, I confidently walked into the building and asked to see the manager. And then it hit me. What on earth was I doing? I knew nothing about designing publications. My nerves kicked in as I sat alone in his office, waiting for my interviewer to arrive. But from the moment this kind, soft-spoken man entered the room, I was put instantly at ease. Needless to say, I accepted the position, and my life was forever changed.  

Over the next few years, Doug assembled a team of rising journalists and artists and provided a fun environment where we could push the creative envelope. Doug believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, often gently nudging me into places I didn’t want to go, but was later glad I did. Before long, the Auto Club’s boring, black and white newspaper had transformed into a slick color magazine with the highest circulation in the state. We had done the impossible, because Doug had taught us how to work smart and think outside the box; skills we would use our entire careers.

Doug and I began dating when he left AAA to work for Vail Associates and we were married three years later. The success of the Colorado club soon caught the attention of AAA headquarters in Washington D.C., and Doug went on to work his magic on a national scale. Not only was Doug an amazing writer, editor and publisher, but also a visionary leader who understood the big picture without overlooking the smallest detail—a rare skill in our industry. His talent for contract negotiations became legendary, and both his employers and employees benefited from having worked with him.

Doug left this world much too soon, but I am forever grateful for 34 truly joyful years and the two beautiful daughters we had together. Doug was our rock. We looked to him for guidance and drew upon his strength. And although we are heartbroken to have lost him, we will put to good use the lessons and wisdom he gave us, and Doug’s spirit will live on not only through this scholarship, but in the memories and stories of family, friends and the colleagues who knew him best.  

I wanted to share a beautifully written post Jessica wrote about her Dad a little over one year ago. 
 

Here's the link to her blog:
 
http://thegirlintranslation.com/2013/11/28/thankful-for-super-heroes/ 

Doug's promotional piece for KEZW radio

Dad’s Memorial

by Katherine Damerst

Growing up, every Sunday, my family went to the Magic Kingdom. I remember driving down Tomorrowland Speedway with my dad in the passenger seat. When we rode the Tower of Terror, he saved a penny for us to hold, so we could watch it defy gravity when the elevator dropped. When we went to the beach, he’d always build mermaid tails on top of my sister and I, upon request.

Every weekend, he made an amazing breakfast with Mickey Mouse pancakes, bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast. I always bragged about how great his cooking was. Another thing we loved was the Farmer’s Market in Winter Park. We’d pick out a breakfast and sit by the train tracks, waiting for one to pass by. When they did, he would light up. My dad loved trains. We always road the Walt Disney World Railroad, and he always insisted I stand in the back with the conductor and say “all aboard” over the intercom to announce the train’s departure. When we road the monorails, we always sat in front (back when they let you), even if the wait was unusually long. And after Fantasia at MGM Studios, my dad put me on his shoulders so I could see past the never-ending crowd of tourists. I don’t know if you ever had the pleasure to hear his goofy impression, but it was always spot on. Another thing he mastered was the evil laugh, which I always heard echoing through the caves of Tom Sawyer’s Island. When we walked through Liberty Square, he wanted to see the Hall of Presidents, which I always dreaded, but went along with him anyways to see him get excited. In Frontierland, my family made frequent stops at the shooting range, where you pay fifty cents to shoot fake guns in the Wild West at targets that moved and lit up. When I was young and too afraid to go on roller coasters (like The Hulk), he’d make me laugh when I saw the picture display on the screens at the end of the ride, where he was yawning and looking at his watch.

Every Christmas, he bestowed the honor upon me and my sister of placing the angel on top of the tree, by lifting us up on his shoulders. On Christmas Eve, while my sister and I were asleep, he would put his shoes in the fireplace to collect ash, and make footprints with them to create the magical illusion of Santa Clause. He liked to keep our faith in fairy tales up as long as he could.

In case you hadn’t heard, my parents raised us to be dorks and be confident about it. My mom would read Lord of the Rings to us as a bedtime story (which probably wasn’t the best choice for a baby, but I’m still grateful). They encouraged me to read and write. They insisted on paying for any book we wanted to read. They’re the reason I love Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter. They strongly encouraged us to immerse ourselves in these fantasies, that were such an important role in our lives, and I’m so thankful for that. 

One thing my dad surprised me with was his incredible ability to wipe the floor at Cards Against Humanity. Every time he played with us, he would win. One of my favorite things I obtained from him was his exciting and almost childish sense of humor. When my sister and I goofed around, he’d always ask us, “What do you think this is, Disney World?” when, ironically enough, we were usually at Disney World.

That was one of the last things I said to him. As he started to fall asleep, I held his hand, kissed his forehead, and quietly sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow in his ear, with my mother whispering to him in his other ear. He had so much love surrounding him all the time. The day of his passing, he had many surprise visitors, and he managed to smile at every one of them. He kept apologizing for asking for anything that he needed help with that he couldn’t do himself. I know he didn’t want his children to see him in such rough condition, which was why he was unnecessarily apologetic. He always had that familiar sparkle in his eyes, all the way up until his last moments with us. One thing that captivated me of all, was the way his sister, my aunt Marsha, looked at him with adoring eyes, and spent countless hours and days at the hospital with him when his immediate family wasn’t able to. Thank you so much, Marsha.

As some of you may know, my dad was my best friend. When I was younger, and I would say something out of context that would get brushed off by my mom and sister, he’d always want to listen to what I had to say, just so I didn’t feel left out. That was one of the wonderful things about my dad; he put everyone before himself. When he cooked, he gave his family the best eggs and strongly insisted he eat the over cooked ones. Family was his number one priority, and he did everything in his power to be the best father he could be, and he succeeded admirably. At the most random times, my dad would look at my mom and say to me quietly, “isn’t she beautiful?” or “your mom is so cute”. I never told you, mom, but he did that very often. I’ve never seen a couple more in love. My parents taught me to have faith in love and marriage, because theirs was so strong. I never had to doubt the existence of true love, because I had a prime example of it right before me, my whole life, and I am so blessed for that. Both my parents taught me what unconditional love requires.

He was and still is an incredible father, and an amazing dad, which is something that’s hard to come by. He taught me to be goofy, to smile, to laugh, to love, to ride a bike, drive a car, and even to belch. Both my parents showed me and my sister endless amounts of support, no matter what we decided made us happy or what trouble we got in to, they stood right next to us the whole way. Of all things, he taught me to be strong. He showed me how to “get back on the horse,” as he so bluntly put it, and that’s what we’ll do.

Although we lost an incredible friend, husband, brother, father, grandfather, and great grandfather, we’ll still walk away from it with more knowledge and strength than we had before. And as we take this time to grieve over our loss, we must be prepared to get back on the horse, and pass on his selfless legacy. I’ll never know a more gentle, brave, and loving soul than my dad. One of his favorite quotes was, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Dad, although you left too soon, you still left an incredible impact on your family and everyone who had the pleasure of meeting you. You always had the best intentions, and a strong moral compass. You kept me grounded (sometimes literally). For 64 years we had an angel walking among us. On September 9th, you earned your wings and ascended to heaven, where we’ll all someday be together again. I’ll miss you, more than words could ever describe. But I feel you shining down on me when the sun is out, and I feel your hugs in the cool breeze during a hot summer. Although I don’t know how we’ll find the courage to go on without you, I’m sure you’ll guide us. You are so loved, dad, and admired by so many, although you may not have known that. While you’re up there, playing golf and driving antique cars, I hope you shine down on us. Oh, and one last thing; tell Walt Disney I said hello.