Donald Ernest Temple

Donald Ernest Temple, of Naples, Florida, and Chicago, Illinois, sauntered over to the ultimate Vienna Beef deli in the sky on January 4, 2026.

A Chicagoan through and through, Don attended Roosevelt High School in the city before heading to Harvard, where he majored in biology (much to the confusion of his daughter, who thought he was a history major since those were the classes he talked about the most).

Don joked that he was a reluctant physician. His older brother, Marvin, was the lawyer, and their father declared that Donald wouldn't cut it in business. So, medicine it was. After college, he returned home and went to medical school at the University of Chicago before he served as a captain in the Army. He practiced dermatology for eight years at Weiss Memorial Hospital and then shifted gears by doing boards in allergy and joining the Glen Ellyn Clinic. Don was one of only a handful of doctors in the country who was board certified in and had practiced both dermatology and allergy. He truly knew skin inside and out.

Don was dedicated to his patients, scheduling appointments until 8pm so patients could see him after work, working over the holidays so college students returning home could see him, and not charging members of the clergy or people who couldn't afford a doctor. His gentle demeanor enabled parents and children to trust him. Unfortunately, Don lived in a household with difficult patients – family members who ran and hid during their allergy shots, fainted during labs, and let out blood-curdling screams during scratch tests. His happy place was making his annual batch of Sangria while watching the sunset from a lanai on Captiva Island, FL with his extended family at his side.

Never one to take himself seriously, Don's sense of humor about himself was legendary. When he showed up at his son Michael's wedding with his new tux, he was chagrined to find that it didn't fit after all the alterations. Immediately suspecting his younger son had secretly switched tuxedos on him, it was quickly determined that Don had grabbed the wrong garment bag from his closet at home. Somehow, he managed to take Michael's second-hand college tux, which was at least three sizes too big for him. His wife Sarah's scream of "Donald, you #%&$ idiot!" could be heard at the hotel's check-in desk. Their room was on the 11th floor.

Don's sartorial choices were not limited to ill-fitting tuxedos. No, indeed. He took special pleasure in humiliating his three children by wearing the loudest Scottish tartan and Madras plaid pants he could find. When asked why he loved wearing such dazzling clothes, he said, "It's my way of breaking the rules. Most people go through life blending in. It's good to add some color and stick out."

Stick out he did.

Don was married to Sarah for 64 years. He is survived by his son Matthew, daughter Madeline, grandchildren Susan (Nathan) and Mark, and former daughter-in-law Jeanne. Sarah and Michael predeceased him.

Private services were held. If you wish to honor Don, please wear the boldest color you can find. If you really want to go all out, wear it while eating a corned beef sandwich on rye with mustard and washing it down with a chocolate phosphate. Or consider donating to the Glaucoma Research Foundation … while toasting with some Glenfiddich whisky.