I knew David best at MR Junior High. I remember he came Halloweening to my house on Prospect Ave dressed as a Beatle with a black rag-mop wig. I didn't know who he was at first, and then, he smiled and I saw this flash of "railroad track" silver braces and I knew who he was immediately. Braces weren't as common then as now and few had them. I think he went to Ireland and became a veterinarian, and I believe he died of cancer quite some time ago. I'm trying to contact his brother Ian through a friend to clarify when David died. It would be a nice way to honour him.
Frankly, I am unaware of the circumstances of David Bell’s death.
But I do clearly remember the following:
As a skinny, nerdy, and awkard kind of young fellow, I never belonged to the popular “in crowd” at High School....and I spent far more time with my books than people. By contrast, David Bell was the kind of handsome, sociable, athletic, guy who all the girls adored.
The high school experience can be a cruel one for many of those perceived as “uncool,” and typically the perpetrators of mean belong to the popular inner circle. Yet, in the various encounters we had, I always appreciated that David Bell treated me like his peer, never condescending nor mocking in his tone.
So, in my memory, David Bell was a gentleman possessed of a maturity and empathy that transcended his youth...and yes, it’s true, the good do die young.
David Bell and I were like brothers. I first saw him in the Western hallway jangling a set ot keys signifying ownership of a car. He was one of the priviledged ones, cocky, good looking and appealing. He knew he was. He knew where he came from and he knew where he was going. We spent many hours cruising in his parents 1969 Chevelle SS 396. Fearless in his driving feats I admired him for his daring (but not dangerous) exploits. He knew when to back off when it was required. Otherwise he ran flat out, enjoying every minute the engine growled beneath us.
Somehow, we just fit. It's hard to explain how it happened. It was just there. Our love of friendship just carried us through. In the summer of 1973, Dean Christie, David and myself decided to go Kelowna for the long August weekend. This time it wasn't in the Chevelle, David had bought an older VW Beetle and souped it up. We three left Friday night full of spirits and adventure. By the time we got to the Rogers Pass, we were encountering electrical problems. We were consuming more electricity that the generator was producing. So, in grand fashion, David turned off the headlights. There was no traffic and it was a full moon. All three of us thought nothing of travelling by natures' moonlight, after all we had David at the wheel. We made it there just fine, no worse for wear and tear. Plenty of time for the concert the next night. Some band in the ice arena. Should be lots of girls to meet, This would be fun. I made the mistake of drinking and smoking a joint. I always got sick when that happened. The loud music made it worse. I escaped to the Beetle and crashed in the back seat falling asleep. I awoke when David and some beautiful girl jumped into the front seats and started making out. I was in a quandry. I didn't want to interrupt them. I didn't want to disturb them. The longer I waited, the more difficult it became to do anything. Then it became amusing. David was trying his best to coax her into engaging into something more active. His lines were very good, but she wasn't buying it. Finally he turned around and saw me lying in the back seat. He was so pre-occupied with the girl, he hadn't noticed me in the back. I just played asleep. The rest of the trip, I never let on I had heard anything.
David went off to Universtity of Alberta, but would return to Calgary in May for a summer job. We worked together at the Calgary Co-op distribution centre in NE Calgary. We built racking for storage, emptied railway cars full of boxes of Campbell's soup and collected our meager pay every two weeks. Then the following summer, David never returned to Calgary. I never saw him again.
In the year 1999, I had business in Edmonton. I heard from my brother, who was close to Ian, David's younger brother that David was a Vet in Edmonton specializing with the racehorses. I looked him up in the phonebook and left numerous messages. I wanted to see him. By the time we finally talked to each other, it was late in the day and I was on my way back to Calgary, dreading the 3 hour drive. We talked for about 45 minutes, promising to see each other the next time we were in town. About a year later, my wife called me on the phone and asked me if I knew a David Bell who was a vet in Edmonton. Of course I did, he's my friend from Western. Well, she said, he was your friend, his funeral is next week. It hit me like a hurricane. I had had the chance to meet him in person, and I never did. I lost that opportunity forever.
I still think of David everytime I drive Elbow Drive. Every single time. I think of him when I drive by 1914 11 Street SW. I think of him when I go to Chinook Shopping Centre. I have no pictures of him, I have no videos of him. I only have the sweet memories of when innoncence was rampant being a teenager and friendships are made to last longer than life.
I think of him often, whether it be double dating with Liz and Lisa, driving through the Roger pass with no lights,skiing at Lake Louise, shooting off to Montanta, or stuck in the snow in the the field at Western, David marked my high school years. As life moved by we saw each other in passings in Saskatoon, Vancouver and Calgary. Most of all I remember sitting with him on the steps of my house in Edmonton (the winter I worked up there in 1998-99). Though I had been there for about 4 months we only figured out we were in the same place a couple of days before I left for Victoria. David drove across the city and we sat and had a beer on the front steps as the movers loaded the truck. It was a framed moment in the parade of many. Without facebook and email (being relatively new) we faded into our sunsets. I tried contacting him a couple of times with no sucess, then understood one day when Robin Telfer called to tell me David was dead. I will alway remember that day too. I became old at that moment. As the days draw on I will never forget David was my friend.
Susan (Sue) Steele (Browning)
I knew David best at MR Junior High. I remember he came Halloweening to my house on Prospect Ave dressed as a Beatle with a black rag-mop wig. I didn't know who he was at first, and then, he smiled and I saw this flash of "railroad track" silver braces and I knew who he was immediately. Braces weren't as common then as now and few had them. I think he went to Ireland and became a veterinarian, and I believe he died of cancer quite some time ago. I'm trying to contact his brother Ian through a friend to clarify when David died. It would be a nice way to honour him.
David Cohen
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Frankly, I am unaware of the circumstances of David Bell’s death.
But I do clearly remember the following:
As a skinny, nerdy, and awkard kind of young fellow, I never belonged to the popular “in crowd” at High School....and I spent far more time with my books than people. By contrast, David Bell was the kind of handsome, sociable, athletic, guy who all the girls adored.
The high school experience can be a cruel one for many of those perceived as “uncool,” and typically the perpetrators of mean belong to the popular inner circle. Yet, in the various encounters we had, I always appreciated that David Bell treated me like his peer, never condescending nor mocking in his tone.
So, in my memory, David Bell was a gentleman possessed of a maturity and empathy that transcended his youth...and yes, it’s true, the good do die young.
Robin Telfer
David Bell and I were like brothers. I first saw him in the Western hallway jangling a set ot keys signifying ownership of a car. He was one of the priviledged ones, cocky, good looking and appealing. He knew he was. He knew where he came from and he knew where he was going. We spent many hours cruising in his parents 1969 Chevelle SS 396. Fearless in his driving feats I admired him for his daring (but not dangerous) exploits. He knew when to back off when it was required. Otherwise he ran flat out, enjoying every minute the engine growled beneath us.
Somehow, we just fit. It's hard to explain how it happened. It was just there. Our love of friendship just carried us through. In the summer of 1973, Dean Christie, David and myself decided to go Kelowna for the long August weekend. This time it wasn't in the Chevelle, David had bought an older VW Beetle and souped it up. We three left Friday night full of spirits and adventure. By the time we got to the Rogers Pass, we were encountering electrical problems. We were consuming more electricity that the generator was producing. So, in grand fashion, David turned off the headlights. There was no traffic and it was a full moon. All three of us thought nothing of travelling by natures' moonlight, after all we had David at the wheel. We made it there just fine, no worse for wear and tear. Plenty of time for the concert the next night. Some band in the ice arena. Should be lots of girls to meet, This would be fun. I made the mistake of drinking and smoking a joint. I always got sick when that happened. The loud music made it worse. I escaped to the Beetle and crashed in the back seat falling asleep. I awoke when David and some beautiful girl jumped into the front seats and started making out. I was in a quandry. I didn't want to interrupt them. I didn't want to disturb them. The longer I waited, the more difficult it became to do anything. Then it became amusing. David was trying his best to coax her into engaging into something more active. His lines were very good, but she wasn't buying it. Finally he turned around and saw me lying in the back seat. He was so pre-occupied with the girl, he hadn't noticed me in the back. I just played asleep. The rest of the trip, I never let on I had heard anything.
David went off to Universtity of Alberta, but would return to Calgary in May for a summer job. We worked together at the Calgary Co-op distribution centre in NE Calgary. We built racking for storage, emptied railway cars full of boxes of Campbell's soup and collected our meager pay every two weeks. Then the following summer, David never returned to Calgary. I never saw him again.
In the year 1999, I had business in Edmonton. I heard from my brother, who was close to Ian, David's younger brother that David was a Vet in Edmonton specializing with the racehorses. I looked him up in the phonebook and left numerous messages. I wanted to see him. By the time we finally talked to each other, it was late in the day and I was on my way back to Calgary, dreading the 3 hour drive. We talked for about 45 minutes, promising to see each other the next time we were in town. About a year later, my wife called me on the phone and asked me if I knew a David Bell who was a vet in Edmonton. Of course I did, he's my friend from Western. Well, she said, he was your friend, his funeral is next week. It hit me like a hurricane. I had had the chance to meet him in person, and I never did. I lost that opportunity forever.
I still think of David everytime I drive Elbow Drive. Every single time. I think of him when I drive by 1914 11 Street SW. I think of him when I go to Chinook Shopping Centre. I have no pictures of him, I have no videos of him. I only have the sweet memories of when innoncence was rampant being a teenager and friendships are made to last longer than life.
Dean Christy
I think of him often, whether it be double dating with Liz and Lisa, driving through the Roger pass with no lights,skiing at Lake Louise, shooting off to Montanta, or stuck in the snow in the the field at Western, David marked my high school years. As life moved by we saw each other in passings in Saskatoon, Vancouver and Calgary. Most of all I remember sitting with him on the steps of my house in Edmonton (the winter I worked up there in 1998-99). Though I had been there for about 4 months we only figured out we were in the same place a couple of days before I left for Victoria. David drove across the city and we sat and had a beer on the front steps as the movers loaded the truck. It was a framed moment in the parade of many. Without facebook and email (being relatively new) we faded into our sunsets. I tried contacting him a couple of times with no sucess, then understood one day when Robin Telfer called to tell me David was dead. I will alway remember that day too. I became old at that moment. As the days draw on I will never forget David was my friend.