Photo courtesy of Christopher Stephens | The Herald Bulletin
We recently attended the life-celebration of a long-term friend, our neighbor and our dentist. He wasn’t just a dentist, but an exceptional, innovative dentist who used the most up-to-date equipment and methods. He belonged to several state and national dental associations and organizations, including membership in the Pierre Fauchard Academy, whose membership is by invitation only and whose purpose is to select outstanding leadership in the various fields of dentistry who exhibit excellence, integrity, and ethical practice within and outside of their professional arena of service.
Dr. David Steele began his life in our town as a Methodist preacher’s son. As a young boy he delivered newspaper to our community, but soon developed a love for photography. By the time he was in high school, he had a thriving business taking the pictures of his fellow students for special honors, sports events, and graduations.
After graduation he headed for college, then on to pursue his Doctor of Dental Surgery degree and to start his 47 years of service to our town. He liked to say he had either delivered papers, taken the wedding pictures, or fixed the teeth of every person in Alexandria.
Dr. Steele and his son.
I could write much more than a blog about the humor, service, and impact this man had on every aspect of our community, from education, governance, and beautification of Alexandria to making us laugh at ourselves by playing jokes on those he loved the most. So, it was also a community of sadness that we shared when this brilliant generous, witty man began to lose his memory. Alzheimer’s disease is, as Presidents Reagan’s daughter called it, “a long good-bye” that takes a loved one a little at a time.
Bill and his dentist
At the celebration of his life what was most obvious and impressive was that this little town had been the keeper of his memory all along. We had his back. From the “groundhog society” he invented, the mystery of the giant hairball he denied propagating, and the gold tooth he gave his cat, to goading the city council into beautifying Harrison Street with new storefronts, hanging flower baskets, and light-encircled Christmas stars, everyone who paid tribute gave his family the assurance that nothing was forgotten. We had kept every smile he ever gave us, not only on our faces but in our hearts. It was also obvious that for a person to give forty-seven years to one profession in one place, he had more than an occupation; he had to have had a calling.
“Why do you and Bill stay in that little town?” we are often asked. “Why do you live in the house you built 57 years ago when you were teaching at the high school two blocks away?” Why do we still live where some people still call Bill “Billy Jim” and where we know who sells the best eggs from chickens they raise in their back yards?
I guess we stay here because if a song doesn’t ring true at the Bakery, it probably won’t be sung around the world. We stay because in a town like this we have to create our own magic out of regular things on regular days. We stay because we are the keepers of each other’s memories, and we have made a silent pledge to show up on some dark day to remind each other that the light we shine just might lead someone home.
Kevin Williams, Jeanne Johnson, Vestal Goodman, Jake Hess, Larry Ford - Old Friends [Live]
