At the memorial service on April 9, David's great friend David Rosenberg gave this beautiful eulogy.  It includes "in italics" the eulogy that the incomparable one wrote for himself.

Delivered on 4/9/13

I’ve thought about this moment quite a bit over the past few days. The voice from above rings out “Ribbies stand up straight" (we all had a nick name, RIGHT)? It continues, “Chris, get him a step stool.” “Now Ribbies don’t screw this up, after all I’ve given you the biggest stage of your life.” Typical words you might hear from Dirt?

What can you say about David Lipson? Classic. One of a kind. Larger than life. Methodical. Meticulous. Organized. A Beta Sig through and through. Complicated. Funny. Crazy. Generous. Sarcastic. Compulsive. Immature! Intuitive. Nobody worked a room better. David was a builder and leader. A trusted friend. A devoted husband, father, and grandfather. And as he often reminded us, truly “a bad, bad, man.”

Dirt lived life to its fullest. There was no middle ground to anything he did. Moderation was not part of his vocabulary. He was smart, had an innate and uncanny business acumen and empowered people to do better! He gave so much to so many and all he asked in return was your friendship and loyalty.

He had his way of doing things and usually his way meant the only way. If you traveled a different path than he envisioned, you were a “hoop” but he still loved you. And over the course of time he even learned to accept your path. David had no filters. If he criticized you, it was his way of showing he cared. Hopefully, you had thick skin. He touched so many lives and helped so many more. 

And under that perceived hard exterior, he was truly a mush ball.

David gathered and attracted people along the path of life. If you were fortunate, you were one of those people. And each one of us has a story. Dirt loved those stories and relished in how much he taught us. My story as a Beta Sig Fraternity Brother goes back 40 years. Many of you have stories that go back even longer.

My story continues to a period in time in the early 80’s when I lived with Dirt. During a crossroad in my life, I was invited for a few months and stayed for a few years. OK, I overextended my stay a bit but with a free room, a pool in the backyard, a tennis court next door, and David’s free daily entertainment, why would I leave? I never forgot David’s act of generosity. And in typical Diablo fashion…he never let me forget!

In years to come, I was often reminded that David rescued me from the dunghill; and  that I was forever indebted. “Bring your wallet” became an often-repeated phrase. And regardless of the request, NO was not part of my vocabulary in our relationship. David thought I should always be pledging. Remarkable, at the age of 61, to a large extent, I still was. So in my final act of compliance, David had prepared some remarks, which he instructed me to read to you. We joked about this document he had prepared and until Anita handed me these papers on Sunday afternoon, I thought it was all a jag. It was not. It starts:

David R. should read this…

This message is from the desk of David S. Lipson or as more commonly known, Dirt, El Dirt, ED, or plain old Diablo.

My friends, How yous do’n? Wait for the response … HOW YOUS DO’n or lead them in that response.

In the past 4 months or so, I have attended a few funerals and as is the custom these days, family and friends get on the podium and praise the dead guy as if he were a combination of Abraham Lincoln, Mahatma Ghandi, Bill Gates and A-Rod. I just could not let that happen to me, so I wrote my own eulogy.

First, let’s ascertain whether you are in the correct funeral home. You can stay if I wrote your resume or I lied for you in a letter of recommendation. Raise your hands if you qualify. Second, if you have had your undergraduate degree demeaned, have been accused of a dirty car or office, have been jagged for un-shined shoes, a bad haircut, bad clothes, and for wearing your father’s tie, raise your hands. Finally, if you have not been called old, a gomer, hoop or homo, you clearly should leave now.

I have always been an equal opportunity abuser. A fine skill that has been useful all of my adult life. I was always amazed that most of you came back for more and then even more.

Rather than have Jeff or Casey make up stuff about me, here is the real truth. I was a child all of life; my life’s purpose was to never grow up. I had OCD and ADD. I drank vodka only on rare occasions and then only to be polite; I tried marijuana once but never inhaled. Kelly Conway and Chris Marolla made me try. I loved to get attention and would practice the jokes I told 20 times before getting in front of an audience. I was always afraid of public speaking and for the first 20 or so presentations I made in my career, I popped a Val. I could never field a ground ball. I wet my bed until I was five. I always cried at bad Lassie movies, Rudy and Hoosiers. My shrink once told me I was the only patient he ever had who would cry at the movies on Saturday night and throw high elbows playing football the next day.

My hardness came from my dad; my softness from my mom. I stole money from my Cub Scout Den (about $1.75, which was huge then). I had the Marketing 120 exam 3 days before the final and also had the accounting 101 exam 5 days before that final. I got an A in both exams. I clearly was not a perfect person. I can count the number of Jewish women I dated from freshman year until 3 days ago on one hand. Go figure that one out.

On the positive side of the ledger of life I can tell you that I think I did ok with modest skills, a sense of humor, hard work and much luck. My GPA at PSU was a 2.03 but my MBA was a 3.85. It was then that I learned that I could do better at things that I liked to do … like managing, motivating, selling and training. I also tried like crazy to be a good friend and think I was pretty resilient and accepting in an attempt to maintain long term friendships. I was also incredibly fortunate to have a million friends and fraternity bros who actually cared about me and my almost 47 years of Beta Sig was just the best ever. I always thought I had great hands, though slow afoot and not too big and I loved playing football more than anything including skiing and making fun of my Irish friend with a small wiener. As you probably have figured out, I loved Penn State; its culture, campus, tailgates, fantasy camps, the Den, the Skeller and making out in the stacks with DGs and Thetas I dated. I think I did my share of philanthropic activities and felt great doing it. My best moment in time at PS was the tackle I made in Fantasy Camp 1 with Casey, Zach, Frank and Chris there to witness it. I will be forever the oldest guy ever to make a tackle in Beaver Stadium. Plus it was a solid chest high hit on a 200 lb. 34 year old.

I loved the Perversion Excursions; bonging up in room 5 with Earl and Ribbies; making Kelly smoke cigarettes; line-ups; our bachelor trips with Jeff and Albert; listening to BaJeans tell hysterical stories (the manscaping was the best); the Celebrations of Life; Ron walking thru the screen door in State College; doing my laundry with Pell on Wadsworth Avenue; hanging in Tarrytown Conference Center with BD; and best of all being Hell Week Chairman Emeritus … a great honor.

I loved my kids, Jeff, Casey and Gabriella as best as I could since I was never a hugger. I loved Baby Siena, Susan and most of all I loved Dr. A more than anything.

I am sorry there are no Bloody Mary’s this morning.

Keep in touch with yourselves and I will see yous later.

PS Despite what Spook claims, I never cheated Gabriella in gin.

I imagine over time Dirt, I will learn to cope with your loss. Yet even with the passage of time, I will forever miss your relentless jagging, laughter, support, generosity, friendship and love!