David E Bryant
(1922 - 2002)
My Dad

I owe this man my life. He never called in the debt.
Here are some pictures.

I firmly believe that an individual's personal energy influences the world
around him or her, and the force of that energy moves through humanity like waves in water.
I was fortunate to have this man as My Father.

May 1961.

Dad,
Grandpa and Grandma Bryant,
my sisters and me.

(I'm the little kid at lower left.)

He loved this picture, and kept it with him always.

1991

at the
Lake of the Ozarks, on his boat.

1955.

When we were little kids he'd take us to the office with him on Saturday.

I have memories of playing with my sisters through the corridors of "the office", with all the lights off, and then rediscovering Dad hard at work in the one lighted room.

He always welcomed our interruptions.

1993

His Tomato Plant.
He loved to grow
tomatoes and strawberries.
I've never eaten
a tomato or a strawberry
without thinking of him.
(You can add radishes and green onions to that list...)

1958 - Reading to my sisters.
He'd obviously been out working in the yard,
maybe planting that tree in the front yard to celebrate my birth...

Wally's Home page

Like I said, I owe this man my life.
We were separated by unjust circumstance.
He spent every resource he could muster to get me back.
He did. In the nick of time.

He was:
Trustworthy
Loyal
Helpful
Friendly
Courteous
Kind
Obedient
Cheerful
Thrifty
Brave
Clean
and Reverent.

That's the Scout Law. He wasn't a Boy Scout, but I was.
My understanding of the Scout Law is due to his example.
Everything within myself that's worthy of respect, I owe to him.

He will live forever -- I firmly believe that an individual's personal energy influences the world
around him or her, and the force of that energy moves through humanity like waves in water.
Whenever anyone, anywhere, does an act of kindness and respect...
whenever anyone demonstrates unconditional love
my Father's contribution to the collective human consciousness
is manifest.

... and 1954, at the office.
I think that this picture was published
every month next to his editorial.
Dad wrote his own Obituary. He was organized like that. My sisters in St. Louis turned it into
a really nice memorial. You can click on each page to enlarge it.
This was a candid moment. We were just sitting quietly. I was looking at something,
and Dad was realizing that he was about to die.
It's like two little islands.
I think he didn't want anyone to know how bad he was feeling,
because he didn't want to spoil the day for the rest of us.
Typical of him.
This one hurts a bit...