Patricia Skeet remembered the twenty-five year old David White as someone who was “wiry and intense, with piercing eyes and short shrift for any southern nonsense!” When she met David again around 1990, she commented that he was just the same, but had mellowed with age.

In later years, he remained kind and still very understanding of anyone having a tough time. “He never changed, really,” Patsie recalls.

“You enjoyed walking from spring to winter. We chased sheep. We chased sunset. You gave me heather, just like you did to my mother. One minute you were sweet, and next minute you were bonkers. You were a bit like that, and I liked the way you were.”
Makiko Hastings