David was completely different from everyone in our class. David's family came from Honduras. I remember in high school he worked in the wax museum in French Quarter at night to help his father who was employed there full time. He used to call me from there at night and we'd talk and talk. David eventually married his girlfriend from high school, Ruby. David was the first individual who attempted to teach me to drive, using his family's car in City Park (completely illegal of course as I did not have a learner's permit), He also had a motorcycle which was highly out of character for our class and something my mother disapproved of.
Later in life (in the 1990s) I ran into David's brother, Paco Wood (in a Jazzercise class - Paco was the only man in the class!). Paco is/was an excellent contractor and we became good friends. Paco married my legal assistant (for a while anyway) and renovated/restored my house after Hurricane Katrina. (Remember how hard it was to find an available contractor at that time?) It was Paco who told me of David's death some years ago.
David introduced me to Jack Kerouac's book On the Road which gave me a new perspective on life.
David became my best friend for a number of years. He was different than just about everyone at Franklin. Once I got to know him, probably in my senior year, I realized what a unique person he was, extremely intelligent and truly someone who thought for himself. His Honduran working class background gave me a new perspective on the world in the volatile and consciousness changing time of the late 60's. We did crazy things together. One night we borrowed his sister's '65 Mustang and headed down to Florida. His sister thought the car was stolen and reported it to police who actually pulled us over in Dixie County, FL. We had some explaining to do. I crashed his motorcycle once and have never driven one since.
David was also a lost soul who thought the world was crazy and comically tragic. For some reason he decided to join the Army. He was stationed in Arizona, at least avoiding Vietnam. I could no longer connect with him as a friend though I tried. The miliary changed him. He seemed even more lost.
Madeleine Fischer
David was completely different from everyone in our class. David's family came from Honduras. I remember in high school he worked in the wax museum in French Quarter at night to help his father who was employed there full time. He used to call me from there at night and we'd talk and talk. David eventually married his girlfriend from high school, Ruby. David was the first individual who attempted to teach me to drive, using his family's car in City Park (completely illegal of course as I did not have a learner's permit), He also had a motorcycle which was highly out of character for our class and something my mother disapproved of.
Later in life (in the 1990s) I ran into David's brother, Paco Wood (in a Jazzercise class - Paco was the only man in the class!). Paco is/was an excellent contractor and we became good friends. Paco married my legal assistant (for a while anyway) and renovated/restored my house after Hurricane Katrina. (Remember how hard it was to find an available contractor at that time?) It was Paco who told me of David's death some years ago.
David introduced me to Jack Kerouac's book On the Road which gave me a new perspective on life.
Nikko
Pierre Musson
David became my best friend for a number of years. He was different than just about everyone at Franklin. Once I got to know him, probably in my senior year, I realized what a unique person he was, extremely intelligent and truly someone who thought for himself. His Honduran working class background gave me a new perspective on the world in the volatile and consciousness changing time of the late 60's. We did crazy things together. One night we borrowed his sister's '65 Mustang and headed down to Florida. His sister thought the car was stolen and reported it to police who actually pulled us over in Dixie County, FL. We had some explaining to do. I crashed his motorcycle once and have never driven one since.
David was also a lost soul who thought the world was crazy and comically tragic. For some reason he decided to join the Army. He was stationed in Arizona, at least avoiding Vietnam. I could no longer connect with him as a friend though I tried. The miliary changed him. He seemed even more lost.
I was saddened to hear of his passing.
-Pierre
Madeleine Fischer
I thought that car was a Mustang, but I hesitated to trust my memory! -- Nikko