David Smith loved to say, “I regret that I have but one stomach to give to this meal.” Everyone who knew him regrets he had but one body to give to this life. He was famous for his enormous appetite, his size 15 feet, his love of the absurd, his strong work ethic, and his abiding passion for mountains, animals, trees, oceans, rivers, camping, bonfires, tools, music, poetry, novels, movies, friends, family, Ford pick-up trucks, a strong cup of coffee and any kind of pie. 

Known as Bubba, Dr. Dave, Papa, Dad, Davy Ray, and Heavy D, David lived life true to his dreams. He once dropped out of high school, hitchhiked to Florida, and worked in an orange juice factory until acid ate his shoes at which point he returned home to make straight A’s until graduation. He drove to California in a VW bus with a guitar and $30, collecting many wild adventures before taking a Greyhound bus back to Virginia, surviving on ketchup packets alone the entire way.  

David was a social worker turned master carpenter who built homes, additions, and other structures all over Virginia, including gazebos at Maymont Park, the cave at the Children’s Museum of Richmond, the restaurant on the corner of Floyd and Robinson, additions to the Faulkner home in Charlottesville, and houses in Honduras following Hurricane Mitch. He deeply loved his fellow carpenters— Pete Heiberger, Jeff Dortch, Pippin Barnett, Bob Lytle, John Swift, and others. He built furniture, sculptures, and a beautiful home on a lake in the country where he and his beloved wife, Mary Pierce Halsted created heaven on earth. 

The son of Wilhelmina and Ray Smith of Elkton, VA, David nurtured and loved many dogs, cats, alpacas, his pet crow Seymour, his daughter Valley Jane Cecelia Yane Smith Haggard, her husband Stan Haggard, and his two stepsons, Matt and Will Seidensticker. His many gifts are evident in his beloved grandson Henry Elijah Sterling Haggard and in his siblings Shirley Guthrie, Elaine Venn, Patty Brennan, Kathy Gibson, and Michael Smith as well as their many children and grandchildren. He maintained a beautiful friendship with his first wife, Jennifer Yane and her husband, Buddy Hensley. David survived nail gunning his foot to a roof, falling through rafters, staph infection, and Parkinson’s disease with Lewy Body Dementia, but in the end, only his enormous spirit survived his human body. 

One of his favorite lines of poetry was from “The Artist” by Robinson Jeffers. I hope,' he said, 'that/ when I grow old and the chisel drops/ I may crawl out on a ledge of the rock and die like a wolf.' 

 Donations may be made to the Environmental Defense Fund (www.edf.org) in his honor.