Thomas DePue

I'm sharing this remembrance on behalf of my dad's very good friend Jackie Westerfield. I think it encapsulates my dad perfectly. It exceeds the number of usable characters so it will continue into two posts. Remembrance of a Dear Friend I write this for the family of my dear friend Tom Depue. It is merely some thoughts and impressions about the Tom that I came to know over a long period of time. It cannot capture the totality of him. First and foremost, know that he loved you, Tom and I met on a dance floor over 20 years ago. It was there that the beginning seeds of friendship were sown. Those seeds took root and gradually blossomed into an enduring friendship. We found so much joy in dancing. Off the dance floor, I initially thought he was a bit shy and insecure. Time would teach me that what I was seeing was a very private person given to a great deal of introspection, continuously looking for ways to improve himself and the world at large. I slowly came to know him as a very intelligent man always in search of truth and fairness in all things. So impressed was I with his level of intellect in some areas that I often told him he belonged in a “ think tank “ or at least on a debate team. I personally thought college-age kids would find him very interesting, controversial perhaps, but interesting. He did not often show this Tom to the world. Just as he did not often show the soft side of Tom, but it was there. Some said he marched to a different drummer; I tend to agree. Marching to a different drummer is not necessarily a negative and in fact may be a positive in some ways, allowing for exploration of areas that might not occur if marching to someone else’s drummer. He was somewhat of a conundrum, a very complex and yet a very simple man. He cared not for riches and society’s measures of success. In fact, he once told me he thought a happy man would be one who could carry all his belongings in a small backpack. He thought Americans in general consumed too much of everything, food, housing, fuel, etc. He chose to live a very frugal lifestyle. He was a man of strong moral fiber in word and in deed. Undoubtedly, the most honest individual I ever met. At times this caused him consternation, as he could not understand why others did not just speak honestly rather than trying to couch comments in kindness or tactfulness. He viewed this as being unkind as one somehow had to guess as to what was really being said. He exhibited kindness in many ways. For example, when eating out on holidays he routinely doubled the tip. At times the tip exceeded the bill itself. He rationalized that he was partially responsible for this individual working on the holiday. “After all, if I and others were not eating out, this person would not need to work.” He worked in a number of ways to limit his carbon footprint, wanting to contribute to leaving a better world for his grandchildren’s generation. Over the years, as he learned to listen and explore his own drummer versus trying to march to another’s, which he found confusing and overwhelming, he mellowed out, becoming less quick to anger, less anxious, more satisfied and accepting of himself. While he liked a challenge, he also sometimes feared it, feared that he might fail. Sometimes the challenge won, sometimes the fear won. Late in life, he cultivated an interest in tree climbing, becoming quite accomplished in this endeavor. He enjoyed the challenge and the accomplishment of scaling a tree and yet remained somewhat in awe of the tree, applying the physician’s oath, “first do no harm” to the trees he climbed. As he spoke about his experience of tree climbing, there was a bit of a reverential tone and a bit of pride at his accomplishment; As he described the experience, it reminded me of the poem, “Trees.” He maintained a respectful and considerate relationship with the universe. He applied this same “can do challenge” attitude to dealing with his devastating diagnosis, as he told me, “I can do this, I can do this.” He faced death with grace, dignity and at times attempts at humor, telling me shortly after his diagnosis, “ I’m sure glad I didn’t waste money getting that shingles vaccine.” He quietly accepted his diagnosis as if it was simply his time to leave this earth. He told me that dying, while sad, was a routine part of living. since all must die. As he spoke, I recalled the lyrics of the song, “ Circle of Life.” Six weeks after receiving his diagnosis, my friend slipped from this world, surrounded by his beloved daughters and his sister. Although I have lost a very beloved friend, I take some degree of comfort in having gained a library of memories and wisdom, acquired from thousands of conversations with him, most by phone, particularly in the covid environment of 2020. Speaking of covid, two days prior to his death, I approached his bedside and gently kissed his forehead. At this time he was speaking haltingly in whispers. In response to the kiss, he said, “you are too close” and instantly was asleep. Initially, I thought his response was due to some confusion related to his pain medication combined with his historical diligence in observing covid restrictions. Later, I came to question if perhaps this was his last effort to inject some “Tom” humor in an emotional moment. This would be so like him. Back to our years long conversations, some were serious, some funny, some about family, some what he called “weed eater” or daily life topics. We did not always agree with each other’s perspective, sometimes resulting in what I called arguments and he called discussions.