Dave Smeltz's Memorial Funds

Dave LOVED dogs! So to honor him we have decided that in lieu of flowers, cards, or anything else we are going to collect funds to donate to some local dog rescues in his name.

 

We know that so many people knew Dave. Whether you can come to his service or not we know that he would be humbled for you to remember him. If you would like to make any donation please give here and leave a story of how you know Dave or remember him.

 

The family thanks you for all your kind well wishes, thoughts, and prayers as we battle through this time of sadness.

For those who don't know...
The day after Christmas, Dad was in a motorcycle crash. The phone calls spread like a nightmare that seems to have not ended. We got together that night and comforted one another. On Jan 5th, we had a ceremony to send him off. We will post that video as soon as we can. Thank you to everyone who was able to attend and all the people who have helped us through this difficult time.

Dad meant more to us than just the man of the house. Dad was the free unlimited advice at the cost of listening to politics and only a phone call away. Dad was the loud thundering voice around the corner when you screwed up. Even if you didn't screw up, he might make you feel like you did. Dad was the random phone call when he needed something asking, "What are you doing?"

Thank you all. We appreciate you helping us create an impactful donation to help some well-deserving dogs in Dad's name.



Ryan's speech at the service:

Sabrina, Aaron, and Hannah, I knew your Dad for a very long time. My whole life, to be exact.

I would like to say I will keep this brief however, I like to talk and he’s my Dad, so… forget y’all. 

I remember growing up, Mom would always say, “Wait ‘til your father gets home!” 

One of my earliest memories of Dad coming home is when we lived in an apartment in Pennsylvania. We were all inside waiting for Dad to get home. I heard the loud roar of an engine pulling up the driveway. I remember Sabrina, Aaron, and I ran outside and there was a GIANT truck pulling in the parking lot. Dad was home. At that moment, I was convinced, no matter what anybody said, Dad was in charge.

One time, Mom told us Dad had been held at gunpoint and had his wallet and van stolen. The man pointed a sawed-off shotgun at Dad and somehow Dad got the gun and was shooting at the van while the guy drove away. That’s when I was convinced Dad was invincible.

Growing up, Dad tried to get me into sports. I remember when we lived in the trailer in Pennsylvania, he taught me how to throw a football. Dad played football very well, so it makes sense he would start with that sport. Try as I might, throwing a football with Dad, I just couldn’t get it. He never gave up on me. Later we decided baseball was more my sport. 

Mom said, “Wait ‘til your father gets home!”

In the same trailer, there was a neighborhood kid named Joshy Butt. That was his legitimate first and last name. Joshy would mess with Sabrina, Aaron, and me while we were outside playing. He would stand behind a tree in our yard and start to say the “F” word, but only the “F”. We ran inside to tell Mom and Dad… “Joshy Butt is messing with us and saying the ‘F’ word.” Mom and Dad said, “I know he’s not being very nice, but that’s no reason to call him names. 

During the pinewood derby, Dad always helped Aaron and me make our race cars. So much so, in fact, some would be convinced it was his car in the race. Dad would spend hours with us cutting the wooden car, sanding it down, painting the cars, and adding graphite to the wheels. Dad always had the tools and the knowledge to design the perfect car. I don’t remember how we placed, but I definitely remember Dad helping us make the cars.

Before we moved to North Carolina, we lost our beloved dog Bandit. Dad spent all day out looking for her, but because of her age, we assumed she had passed away. Once we moved to North Carolina, we decided to get another dog. Dad told Mom to look and to make sure to NOT get a puppy with big paws. We brought Midnight home, who had the biggest paws. Dad had a new best friend.

And Mom said, “Wait ‘til your father gets home!”

Dad sometimes picked me up from guitar lessons and Sabrina from ballet. The window was down and we were cold, but I was too afraid to say anything. We would listen to country music all the way home and laugh at signs that weren’t really funny once we grew up… except for Cum Park Plaza.

Dad gave me my first black eye. He took me out back behind our house and started … practicing fly balls with me. In little league baseball, I wasn’t very good at catching them. He threw one up, my glove wasn’t high enough, and I caught it with my eye. Dad walked over, patted me on the head, and said, “Let’s go inside and put some ice on it.”

As if the shock wasn’t enough for Mom, Dad had to tell her I was severely uncoordinated and sucked at baseball. Dad took me out back to practice again the next day. Needless to say, I had not improved, as Dad also gave me my second black eye. Does it really count as a second black eye if the first one hasn’t healed yet? 

Dad taught me how to pitch. The windup was very elaborate. We spent weeks on it, practicing to make sure it didn’t affect my speed and accuracy. Once we were both happy with it, Dad talked the coach into letting me try out for pitching. The coach agreed, let me throw one pitch, and hated the windup. Not getting a position as pitcher didn’t phase me because Dad had spent quality time with me teaching me how to do it.

Mom still said, “Wait ‘til your father gets home!”

Before Hurricane Fran in 1997, Dad prepared the house, making sure we had everything we needed in case the power went out or we couldn’t get to the grocery store in time. During the Hurricane, a HUGE tree from the neighbor's yard fell across the fence, barely missing our house. Dad helped cut it up and get it out of the way. Aaron and I played Army on it. 

One time, in the backyard, Aaron made a zip line from one tree to another. Of course, this was not a parent-approved zip line, so he did it while Mom and Dad weren’t around. When I found out, I wanted to help him test it. As soon as we began going down the zip line, Dad pulled up in the driveway, got out and looked our way, and said, “Don’t let your mother find out.”

No matter what company Dad drove for, there was always something free “falling” off the back of the truck. When he drove for Prosource, hauling for Burger King, the Disney glasses were out and we ended up with what seemed like a thousand of them.

Dad helped me earn my first nickname. When I went to public school in 9th grade, Dad drove for McKee’s Foods. McKee’s was the distribution for Little Debbie. Since Little Debbie’s were “falling” off the back of the truck, whenever we had a food day in High School, I would volunteer to bring something. Since they were free, I always brought Little Debbie’s. Well, it only took about three food events before I was well known as “Little Debbie”.

In high school, I had to create something for a project. I decided to solder copper pipe together to make a boat. Dad taught me how to solder copper pipe using his torch, flux, and solder. Anytime I had trouble and couldn’t figure out how to make it work, Dad would help me work through it.

Mom kept saying, “Wait ‘til your father gets home!”

When it came to Boy Scouts, Dad always made sure to go on as many trips as possible with us. He went with us to the Scout jamborees and all the camping trips. Dad helped me work my way through the ranks, all the way through Eagle Scout. 

Dad helped Aaron and me with selling popcorn every year. There was usually a competition and there was always a big prize for the winners, usually including some kind of camping gear. We would order enough popcorn to get whatever camping gear we needed and Dad would help us sell it… or eat it. We ended up with a lifetime supply of popcorn.

When it came time for me to decide on an Eagle Scout project, I had originally wanted to build a half-court for basketball at our church. While we were discussing funding and plans for the project, Dad talked to Tim Kelly whose daughter needed a handicap ramp to get in and out of their home. I wrote up the project and submitted it. Dad helped me with everything from fundraising, getting supplies, and was on-site teaching me how to measure twice, cut once. 

Mom was yelling, “Wait ‘til your father gets home!”

When I enlisted in the Army, I pushed my date back for Military Entrance Processing so Dad could be there. When I finally graduated from one station unit training, Dad packed everyone in a van and made the trip out to Fort Leonard Wood, MO for the ceremony. Right before I left for Iraq in 2007, Dad found a route down to Fort Polk, LA to come to my send-off ceremony. I was getting pinned Corporal, so I had him do it. Dad always seemed to be able to find a route through where I was stationed. He even came through Temple, Texas once when I was stationed at Fort Hood and had lunch with me and my friend Shannon. 

Training to go to war was one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to do, besides actually going to war. As we practiced tactics, techniques, and procedures in preparation for our deployment, I started to draw parallels between the things Dad taught me and our training. Dad taught me if you are not an expert in something and you want to be, practice it until you are. Dad taught me no amount of preparation will ensure flawless execution, but by God it sure does help. Dad taught me when things are going crazy and people are yelling all around you, it helps to keep a level head so you can think straight. These lessons and more I took with me on deployment and used constantly throughout my Army career. 

When I got out of the Army, I came home just in time for Father’s day. I talked to Dad and he told me what church he was going to. I rode my motorcycle over to meet him for the service. It was the first time in over 10 years I got to go to church with Dad again. After the service, we talked about current events on the way out to the parking lot. That’s when I realized I needed to catch up so I could be more educated on what was going on and hold better conversations with Dad.

When I started my own business, Dad helped me with logistics. He was the freight company I hired, as long as it was local. He taught me everything I know about less than truckload, full truckload, how to tie and tier a pallet, stretch wrap, and so much more. Dad is one of the main reasons I am where I am today with my professional career. Any time I had a problem, whether with a trucking company, docking, or my pallet scale, I could call Dad and he would help me fix it.

Dad connected me with Ken in Sanford as I was growing my business and began hiring people. Ken had worked for Dad and was unable to keep driving due to health reasons, but was willing to do the part-time work I needed to help me get my business off the ground. Dad just wanted to help Ken and his family saw an opportunity and ran with it.

I helped Dad as much as I could with his business. I helped him place ads to bring in new people. I helped him set up Zoom calls to interview them. I built a somewhat rough Google sheets system so he could track his numbers and was creating an app to make it easier for everyone involved in his business to create routes, enter numbers, and locate stops. All these things were very small in comparison to all the things other people did to help him build and grow his business to what it is; however, Dad was a very giving person and I always wanted to give back as much as possible to him. 

Dad taught me hard work. Whether he was driving a truck over the road or working on something at the house, he always worked to get the job done. Dad taught me about leadership. Whether he was helping with Boy Scouts or coaching baseball, Dad wasn’t afraid to get involved and show us how to do things. Dad taught me responsibility. No matter what, he always followed through on what he said he was going to do.

Dad taught me how to problem-solve. Sometimes when Dad would have issues, he would call me and talk about them. It’s not because I have the answers. He just needed to think out loud to work through it. I have inherited the same process of problem-solving, which usually involves me talking it through with someone else.

Dad always asked me questions about my work, the Army, and my life, that’s how I know he cared. Dad was always able to keep a level head, even in the worst circumstances, that’s how I know he was patient. Dad was always looking to give, even if he had less than the other person, that’s how I know Dad was kind. 

Growing up, we kids would get into trouble whenever Dad wasn’t home. Mom would send us to our rooms, take away our toys or electronics, or even spank us. We always figured out how to work around Mom’s punishments. One time Mom sent Aaron upstairs to his room to wait for a spanking, and Aaron put on what seemed like every single pair of pants he owned to cushion the blow. Another time, Mom sent me outside to get a switch from the bush and I brought one inside… broken up into tiny pieces. Many times Mom’s punishments never set us straight, but there was one thing she could say that would set us straight: “Wait ‘til your father gets home!”

Well, Mom… Dad’s home.