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Donald Harold White

Passed April 12, 2021

Obituary For Donald Harold White




10:30 AM
St. Patrick Cemetery
45 Huntington Road
Cold Spring Harbor, NY 11724
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by FHW Solutions

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Whitman's House at Close of Day—" by Karl Salzmann 4/13/21 You probably don't remember—that's OK. I was that kid-kind of miserable when we left the store, And you said why aren't you saying anything, And I told you about the book I didn't finish, And you said I'll buy it for you. And I have my prize in hand—I am That kid-kind of selfish when we reach our destination, A wooden house across the way in the memory of The local boy, the favorite son, the poet, Who wrote of eagles' beaks and grasses' leaves And announc'd of all to all himself, Container of multitudes (like you, as many sides as polyhedral). I don't know who he is—he is old (with a Beard like a wizard, and my book is about wizards,) And you do not try to distract me. You let me listen, as you listen To me; you are the unraveler of woes despite your woes, The analyzer of symphonies and sympathies; and, in time, I listen. And there are you and I:— The unpeopl'd but unempty hallways wandering, The house wherein the poet spent his boyhood exploring, What ev'ry docent learns and teaches learning, The device "sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite," As if it is the unplumbable secret. But do I care? And, again, but do I care? Sometimes I care and sometimes I do not— I am not a poet, but my head abounds With figures and with images and tales, And lo! a secret passage and a secret calmness Of you and me as hours sigh and day loses its light. And there are two of us and Spirit Sancti, There at the close of the day, and I think looking back The employees were glad to be rid of us.— But that's OK. You brought me there Because you thought I ought to know. You bought me a book because you, Sphinx, solver and keeper of mysteries, Holder of angles ever expanding, Singing, sighing, misunderstanding and understanding, knowing God and man and oak for a moment, Want to be with me for that moment. I know that now. I wish I knew that then. But I was a child, And we two in Whitman's house at close of day was poetry.
- salzmann susan
Michael and I send our deepest condolences to you all on Donald's passing. Know you are in our thoughts and prayers! Much love Michael and Simone Pennino
- Simone and Michael Pennino
I'm so sorry for your loss ❤️. I remember him as a very gentle man, always smiling, quiet, kind. Love claudia
- Claudia
My sincere condolences too the two First Ladies I met in the industry. You are in my heart and thoughts
- Jerry YAEGER
My dad loved many things--oh yes, he loved each and every one of us, but he loved adventure as well. Each winter he would yearn to be on the road with his handmade trailer and dream of going to Florida or New Hampshire, like in his younger years. Dad had a different way of living. He liked his privacy yet could strike up a conversation with anyone about most anything. He could tell tall tales or get philosophical. When he was interested in a topic, he would research it inside out and again and again. The genius man I call Dad loved to design all sorts of industrial items like trailers, both travel and utility. He would build them entirely by hand. He also designed and built furniture, pick up caps, upholstery, curtains, and many other things. Dad would sing and dance and play harmonica to amuse us. He called me "my Sue." He'd say, "How's my Sue?" My brothers have been blessed with Dad's best traits--lucky boys. His grandson Karl has Dad's gift of vocabulary and love of words. His granddaughter Brittany has his talent for music. My mom was his guide and teacher for many things wise and spiritual. He needed her wisdom for life's many challenges, and she was the one who could do that. We've traveled the country with my dad and his restless spirit, always seeing the beauty of exploration through his vision. God bless you dad, wherever your new adventure takes you. I love you...just love you.
- Susan White Salzmann

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