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ConcernedCitizen
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Though I don't get to post here as much as I used to, I am making it a point to get on today. I heard through a mutual acquaintance that David Starr, who frequently posted on this site until recently, has passed away.
My sympathy to his family and friends. I may not have always agreed with his posts, but I respected him for honestly stating his opinion. I hope all my brothers and sisters will pray for his family in their time of sorrow! |
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"When people fear their government, there is TYRANNY.
When the government fears the people, there is Liberty"
Thomas Jefferson |
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Tue Nov 19, 2013 11:25 pm |
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untanglingwebs
El Supremo
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Concerned Citizen
David Starr passed yesterday. The funeral mass will be at noon on Friday at St. Michaels. A viewing will begin at 11 am. He will be buried at the Great Lakes National Cemetery.
The body can be viewed at Schwartz Funeral Home on Hill Rd Thursday noon and 8 pm. |
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Wed Nov 20, 2013 8:49 am |
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pan8
F L I N T O I D
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Did not know him but may he rest in peace. My sympathies to the family.
Pan8 |
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Wed Nov 20, 2013 9:24 am |
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twotap
F L I N T O I D
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| Sad news rest in peace Dave. |
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"If you like your current healthcare you can keep it, Period"!!
Barack Hussein Obama--- multiple times. |
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Wed Nov 20, 2013 9:41 am |
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untanglingwebs
El Supremo
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'Teardown' author Gordon Young remembers man who epitomized Flint's reasons not to give up
Scott Atkinson | satkins1@mlive.com By Scott Atkinson | satkins1@mlive.com
on November 20, 2013 at 6:30 PM, updated November 20, 2013 at 7:29 PM
FLINT, MI -- Gordon Young spent four years doing research for his book, "Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing City," and along the way, he made some friends as he tried to reconnect with his hometown after a decade away.
One of those friends was Dave Starr, who died Nov. 19 in his home. He was 71.
Following his death, Young contacted The Flint Journal to write an essay remembering not only his friend, but a man who he thought epitomized all of what is right in a city with so many things wrong:
Dave Starr and the future of Flint
By Gordon Young
My friend Dave Starr died on Tuesday at the well-kept Civic Park home in Flint where he and his wife, Judy, had lived since 1968. Dave had been fighting cancer, and it finally overwhelmed him.
Personally, it's hard to lose a friend. But I feel that Dave's passing is a bigger loss for Flint. He epitomized what is great about the city. And, yes, Dave still thought it was a great place, despite all the well-documented problems that afflict it. Dave was proud of his work, and he appended each of his emails with a line that summed up the dedication and endurance that defined him and the city where he lived most of his life: "Retired Shop Rat — 14,647 days in a GM Plant." Clearly, Dave was one of those people who always showed up. He was there, unfailingly, for his family, friends and neighbors. Life is not easy in Civic Park, but Dave never gave up. He never quit. And he never got bitter, even though no one would have blamed him if he had. I will miss him, and the hometown he loved will be a different place without him.
I met Dave for the first time in his backyard on a warm summer evening in 2009. He had gathered with his neighbors at dusk for a meeting of the Milbourne Avenue Block Club. Dave had set up a big industrial fan with an orange extension cord to chase away the humidity, and Judy served ice-cold lemonade. For a couple hours, the residents of the block talked about ways to combat blight, economic decline, and the weeds that looked more like trees springing up on the vacant lots that dotted the surrounding streets. We all had a good time. It was a welcome reminder that even though the national media seemed to have given up on Flint, many of the city's residents had not.
Although I'd grown up just a few blocks away on Bassett Place, I was a stranger to Dave that evening. I'd returned to Flint after living in San Francisco for more than a decade. I was a journalist working on a story and pursuing an ill-conceived plan to reconnect with my hometown by purchasing a house. I sensed that Dave thought I was a little nuts, but he was a kind, welcoming, trusting person with a great sense of humor. We were different in many ways, but we had a lot in common. We'd both grown up in the Catholic school system. I worked bingo with my mom in the St. Michael's cafeteria where Dave and Judy were married. We both loved Luigi's pizza. I became friends with the Starrs. They endured my endless visits and phone calls while I completed a book about Flint. Dave even showed me how to make bullets and took me to a local shooting range. I managed to cut my hand on the gun, smear blood all over myself, and have an embarrassing anxiety attack, but Dave took it all in stride. After we left the range, he spread our targets out on the seat between us to reveal that most of the shots were close to the center, including mine. "You did good," he said, before offering me a Life Saver and launching into a great story about the time he shot an elephant gun and almost dislocated his shoulder.
The night I met Dave and Judy, it was impossible not to notice the major construction project underway in their backyard. I seriously thought Dave might be building a bomb shelter or some sort of panic room. It turned out that he was in the middle stages of creating a 3,000-gallon pond with a filtration system and a cascading waterfall. He'd been working on it since 2007 and planned to fill it with water lilies and other plants. He hadn't decided if he would stock it with koi or smaller, double-tailed wakin goldfish. "One of my neighbors suggested catfish," Dave said, smiling. "I think he's looking forward to a cookout or something. We may have to consider it if the economy keeps going like this."
His enthusiasm built as he detailed the work that was left to be done, but he finally paused as he surveyed the cement-block retaining wall, the deep hole, and the high mound of dirt near his garage. "I planned to get a lot done this summer, but this cancer thing might slow me down."
I asked how much the pond would cost from start to finish. He figured about $8,000. I tried not to look surprised. I wondered if it was more than the house was worth. Dave looked at me as if he knew what I was thinking.
"Some people might think we're old-fashioned or strange, but this is not just a house where we live. This is our home, and we're going to take care of it," he said. "You can either run away from your problems or you can stay and fight."
Dave's fight is over now. I hope that he's gone on to a better place, the kind of place the nuns told us about when we were both kids at St. Mike's. And I hope that all of us who care about dear old Flint follow Dave's example. Now is not the time to give up.
Dave Starr's obituary and funeral information is available here.
-- Gordon Young is a journalist who was raised in Flint and now lives in San Francisco. He is the author of "Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing City." |
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Wed Nov 20, 2013 9:24 pm |
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