Obituary of Larry Lee Davenport
Obituary for Larry Davenport
Larry Davenport died unexpectedly on April 9, 2020, en-route to the hospital.
He is survived by his wife of 33 years, son, Eric (Karie) Davenport of Mason, OH, grandchildren Avery, Ronan and Remi. He is also survived by a loving network of nieces and nephew and their children. Predeceased by his parents.
The family he leaves behind and all the friends, co-workers Larry touched with his life, are his legacy. People never just met Larry, they remembered him. Conversations were always about you and not him, unless it was instructions for how to do something, because Larry was a doer. And leading other people in getting things done was his occupation for forty years. Getting those things done though never got in the way of him taking time to know the folks doing the work. His relationships with people always came first.
Larry was born and raised in Kentucky. He was a southern gentleman in how he approached life. There was never a situation where you weren’t able to be polite, family was always first, he held the door for anyone, offered a hand to help everyone and he could set a formal dining room table Emily Post would approve.
Larry was adventurous and liked to go fast. Fast in cars, in boats, on water skis and fast balls on the pool table. Larry lived a blessed and formative childhood. His parents bought a piece of land on Harrington Lake in KY when Larry was thirteen years old and together the three of them built a small house and deck. Larry learned the building trades from his Dad and proved his mettle by framing a wall by himself while his parents went to the store. The lake house became their perpetual summer vacation and pulling water skiers down the lake was Larry’s favorite activity. All their friends learned to ski with Larry’s coaxing and assurance. Larry’s mother was a great cook and enlisted his help often, especially at the lake house. Larry was an awesome cook, specializing in his mother’s favorite foods; anything southern. Kentucky Country ham was a preferred ingredient, along with beans of course, and scratch cornbread baked in a cast iron skillet. There wasn’t a vegetable around that wasn’t better with bacon grease or country ham added. Grits could be breakfast, lunch or dinner and biscuits were always on the table. Pork chops fried golden brown in a skillet or any meat on the grill, all favorites.
Larry’s greatest pride, was his son, Eric. Larry’s life revolved around Eric. He spent every free moment planning the activities they would participate in when together to assure that their time was not just “quality”…it was “remarkable.” Cooking dinner together might include flying food with clean-up included as part of the activity. Larry was an awesome teacher and playmate for whatever interest came along; Legos, slot cars, knives, all things Star Wars, movies, guns, baseball cards, four wheelers, RC cars, school science projects, all took their turn. Larry told others he was just a big kid himself and never wanted to grow up.
Larry was especially proud of the man that his young son had become. He marveled watching Eric play with his three children and how he tenderly loved his wife, Karie. Of all his professional accomplishments, nothing…NOTHING…made Larry prouder than seeing his family happy and successful. He loved his wife, his son Eric and his wife Karie and all his grandchildren with a bold, true and deep love.
Larry made people laugh. He made others feel comfortable and thus they could “just be themselves.” He gained the respect of others through his kind and selfless actions. He always looked for the best in others and he always gave the best of himself. He was a kind hearted, generous, funny and well-mannered man.
Title and position never mattered to Larry. It was not who you were that mattered…it was how you treated others that counted. He leaves this world a better place because he leaves behind so many who have been positively influenced and changed for the better having known him. Larry Davenport…you will be missed!
In keeping with the social distancing protocol, due to the Covid 19 pandemic, a private Mass of Christian Burial was held at St. Louis Church, Pittsford, New York on April 14, 2020.
A celebration of Larry’s life will be scheduled at a later date. In the meantime, please share your stories!
Letter to my Dad, Larry Lee Davenport, from Eric Davenport
Dad,
I knew this day would come, I just never dreamed it would come so soon.
When someone you love passes unexpectedly, you naturally start thinking of all the things you wish you would have had the chance to say. But I know you are listening now, so here goes…
I have so many reasons to say thank you. As I sat and started putting my thoughts together for your remembrance speech it was like a flood of memories hit me. The reality of your influence on my life became apparent. All the lessons, big and small along the way, at the time seemed so benign – so simple, but now I realize how impactful every one was. I didn’t realize it then, but I see it now – everything was an opportunity to learn. You were so intentional with the limited time we had together. There’s simply not enough time for me to share them all, but I want you to know that I will carry all those memories with me throughout the rest of my time here on Earth.
Many of my earliest memories are from our time spent down at the lake every summer with Grandma and Grandad. That’s where you taught me so many wonderful things. Like how to captain a boat, safely. How to ski at an early age, then how to slalom. I was the only kid I knew that was on one ski by age 10. I remember some ski runs on early weekend mornings where you would pull me for what felt like an eternity, and my hair would never get wet.
You taught me to fish, catching bluegill off the dock or up the little creeks that fed into the lake. Your Grandson just got his first fishing pole for this 4th birthday, and I can’t wait to teach him how to bait a hook.
And you taught me how to grill, every Friday and Saturday on the charcoal grill. Everything imaginable.
My family bought a boat this past summer. I’d really hoped that you would see it in person, and that it would bring back those memories for you too. Every single time I was out on that boat last year, I thought of you. The reason I could launch that boat, and back the trailer, was because I learned from you. And I know when I teach my kids to ski, and tube, you’ll be watching, reminding me “safety first, but give ‘em hell and let them have fun”. Maybe once all the Coronavirus threats subside, we’ll spend a weekend down at Herrington and make a few laps in your memory.
My wife tells me no one she’s ever met knows how to navigate quite like I can. The reason why is every time we would go on a trip, you made me navigate. At the time it was just a fun, cool thing to do as a kid, but again, now I know you were teaching me a skill. Every airport – reading the departure signs to find our gate – every road trip; flipping through the trip-tik page by page – every trip to Disney, being your tour guide from one attraction to the next on the map. It all helped me as I became a frequent flier on US Air at 8 years old, confidently flying to see you every other weekend by myself.
A legacy that was passed from your Dad to you, and you passed on to me, was how to be handy with tools and build just about anything. With incredible patience, you taught me to use hand tools, power tools, and how to be confident tackling big projects. From working on your old Ford pickup in the driveway at the creek-house, to building a 7th grade science project on house wiring and electrical circuits that blew everyone away, you made everything seem easy.
I carried those skills with me into my first jobs in construction during summers in college. I finished 2 basements myself – and my proudest moment was when I got to have my work inspected by you and got a full stamp of approval. Growing up I joked that you and Grandad were my real-like MacGyvers – you guys could build anything with just a paperclip, duct tape, and a screwdriver. To this day when I fix things for neighbors or in-laws, and they ask how I know how to do it, I just tell them my Dad was a great instructor.
There are so many other memories that come to mind that made me who I am today. You taught me to always take pride in a job well done, and anything short of perfection just isn’t worth the Davenport stamp of approval. You taught me to learn from my mistakes and failures. You let me make mistakes, and then patiently showed me the better way. You taught me respect for parents in the way you loved and cherished your Mom and Dad, and the time we all spent together.
You taught me how to be a gentleman. Though you and mom divorced, you never said a disparaging word about her, or my step-dad who told me just last week when I informed him of your passing that he always had the utmost respect for you and the way you positively influenced my life.
I even remember the truck ride home from the lake when you asked me my permission to marry Barbara – one of the best decisions of your life. I’ll forever be grateful that you chose a woman as amazing as she to be your wife and my stepmom. Throughout my life I’ve listened to friends talk about issues with stepparents. But you could not have picked a more perfect person to be my stepmom. Not only because from the first moment I met her she treated me like a son, but because of the great comfort she brought to my life knowing you were with a true angel on Earth, to love you, bring joy to your life, and care for you to the end. My wife Karie knows exactly who to credit for my southern charm – she told me after the first time she met you.
You taught me how to drive in your old Toyota pick-up, that still remains to this day. On a hill, on a country coal road, you made me stop halfway up – now learn how to let out the clutch and not roll backward. I was the best 16 yr old manual driver in my high school as a result.
So many more things can be credited to you.
I make amazing scrambled eggs. Big, fluffy, and perfect. It’s all because I watched you do it every weekend for years. No one else’s eggs are better than yours, but mine are a close second.
You taught me the fundamentals. How to stand up for what you believe in, how to problem solve with peaceful confidence, how to respect others.
Your love of country music, country ham, and bourbon lives on in me today. You’d be proud to know your granddaughter and I sing along to country music together while we drive around town in my Ford pickup…. just like you and I did all those years ago.
You taught me how to lead as a humble servant. When you got your first major promotion to engineering manager in Terre Haute, I remember looking up the word “engineering” with you in my Sesame Street dictionary. But you made the best darn engineering manager and then plant manager Terre Haute had ever had. People all loved your no-nonsense, straight shooting style – a style I’d already learned to love and respect. I got to see it firsthand on those rare days when I’d accompany you to the Pillsbury plant and we would walk the production floors together. Everyone knew who you were, smiled when they saw you, and said how proud they were to meet me. It made me proud to see everyone saw you as a hero – just like I did.
Growing up, I only spent every other wonderful weekend with you, and Spring breaks and summer vacations. But the time we spent together still brings back many of my most cherished memories. And when I look at the person I’ve become today – as a dad myself to 3 of the best kids on this planet, a strong, loving, southern gentleman husband to the most beautiful wife, and a successful career man leading a team of people for a large global corporation…I fully appreciate that I owe much of it to you. To every intentional moment we shared together. To every teaching opportunity. To every moment of love you shared with me.
I texted a mentor of mine when I found out you were gone. I knew he would know exactly what to say in my time of grief. He had a chance to meet you at my wedding and has always been grateful for that moment. I told him there were so many things I wished I’d said to you before you were gone. He assured me that I didn’t need to say anything. He told me there was no doubt that you saw the kind of man I’d become, and that you were so proud to be my Dad.
I just need you to hear that I’m proud to be your son.
And for all that, and every other memory that I couldn’t share today, but that I will cherish until the day I join you; I am grateful, thankful, and respectful of how, and why you did everything you did.
I love you Dad, and I miss you. But I will never forget you. Rest in peace and happiness, and say hello to Grandma and Grandad for me.
Love, Eric