Paul Trimble David Jr.

(1937-2007) David P. Trimble, M.D., 69, died peacefully at his home in Shawnee, Kansas on January 27, 2007, surrounded by his wife and children, after a long and courageous battle with Lewy Bodies Disease. David was born July 15, 1937 in Emporia, Kansas, where he graduated from high school in 1955. He received a B. A. from the University of Kansas and earned a medical degree from the University of Arkansas, becoming a 4th Generation M.D. in the Trimble family. He had a private practice in the Kansas City area, specializing in rheumatology. He served for over 25 years on the staff of the Kansas City Veterans Hospital until his retirement in 2003. On more than one occasion he was chosen Employee of the Year. He was a captain in the Air Force Reserve and a trained as a flight surgeon. David was devoted to his family and always involved in his children's activities, including school and sports, and often coached youth teams. He was always an advocate for the less fortunate, especially for the nation's veterans. He lived his life with grace and dignity. Survivors include his wife Lynda, son David Paul Trimble III, daughter Wendy Scott, two grandchildren, Asher Trimble and Gunner Scott, and his brother Steve Trimble of St. Paul, Minnesota. He was preceded in death by his parents, Paul and Agnes Trimble and brother Jerry Trimble. Cremation and private family services are entrusted to Mt. Moriah & Freeman Funeral Home. In lieu of flowers memorials should be sent to the Autism Society of Johnson County Kansas, P.O. Box 25563, Overland Park, KS 66225-5563. IF If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream-and not make dreams your master, If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it all on one turn of pitch-andtoss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings-nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much, If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And-which is more-you'll be a Man, my son! Author - Rudyard Kipling Arr: Mt. Moriah & Freeman Funeral Home, 816942-2004.