2025 RICHARD SPEAR, MD, MEMORIAL ESSAY CONTEST
2025 RICHARD SPEAR, MD, MEMORIAL ESSAY CONTEST
Practicing & Life Member Category Winner The Power of the Human Heart
by David Dageforde, MD
Another man crying: there was a long line of silent mourners, but this man was crying openly. He said my dad would repeatedly meet with him putting no limits on the amount of time spent because this man’ s life was falling apart from a gambling problem. When he was financially broke, my dad opened a bank account for him. My dad told him to put one dollar a week into his new account and my dad would match the contribution. Over time, the man stopped gambling and his savings grew. Even though the original incident happened long before my dad was killed by a drunk driver in 1966, my dad continued to meet with him and match his dollar for years. The man always remembered my dad, a hardware salesman with a high school education and a family of five to support, for helping him overcome his gambling addiction by spending quality time with him and by providing monetary support.
The other man who was crying while standing in the receiving line told a similar story. My dad helped him overcome alcohol addiction. Money was a small part of the solution, although not insignificant for a dad earning a lower middle-class salary. As it turns out, he helped many more than these two men. The larger component was his compassion, the dedication of time and effort to help these men, and the prayer that he offered.
In the middle of the same funeral home parlor, a young man who would later become a multi-millionaire was falling on the floor inconsolable, not able to make it across the room to the casket. The young man said Dad was a great mentor to him when he started in the corporate finance world after his college and MBA degrees. The mentorship was not about financial derivatives, but about interpersonal skills and developing meaningful relationships with others. He said my father
demonstrated what it meant to see inside someone’ s heart and to work alongside them without judgment, providing love and hope for the future. The young man never made it to the casket. Finally, continuing to sob, he left the room.
As a 17-year-old in raw grief, I heard many similar stories the day of the funeral, which made me proud of my dad and his love for other people. The stories also reminded me about my father’ s family. His grandfather came from Germany as a missionary in the 1880s to minister to those leading the western frontier. My dad learned from his granddad and his dad. I learned from my dad during his life and in his death.
For years, I remembered those stories. One memory had a profound impact on me. One could label this story“ Psychology 101,” or maybe“ Psychology 401.” One Friday night in 1964, I asked my dad if I could have the keys to drive our 1957 Plymouth to visit with some friends. I had just passed the test for my driver’ s license that same day. My curfew was 10 p. m. and I arrived home at 11 p. m. Saturday night, same request, same curfew and I arrived home at midnight. Sunday, same request and a new 9 p. m. curfew. I drove up at 1:30 a. m. My Dad was standing in the driveway and did not raise his voice; he just asked for the keys. I was mad – not at me – but at him. I laid in bed that night wondering how long he would keep“ my” keys. Dad had already left for work by 6 a. m. when I woke up for my summer job. There was an envelope lying beside my chair at the kitchen table. I was still angry he had taken“ my” keys. I opened the envelope, which held“ my” keys and contained a note,“ Son, I trust you completely.” I was shocked, but felt loved, and knew I could be trustworthy and responsible. He taught me responsibility with love. I was never, never, never late again.
16 LOUISVILLE MEDICINE