Tim Doughtie | Share the Love...

Dear friends,

This site is dedicated to Tim Doughtie and his family. We are collecting stories and pictures of your experiences with this remarkable man to share with other friends.

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Click below to learn more about how Tim changed our world.

Matt Doughtie

Grace Doughtie

Collins Doughtie

The Memorial Service for Tim Doughtie
A Meditation by John M. Miller

Phil Porter | Photos from Phil

Maggie Rojas Westbury

Jennifer Asnip Quattlebaum

Wendy Allen

Of all the people I've ever known who deserved, and should be here forever, (we'd all still be giggling) it was Tim. He was a life force and social revolutionary and made a profound difference in many, many lives.

Tim and his company kindly gave me an office for a number of years and while there was always some serious sidesplitting going on (along with Tim's creative brilliance) it's the size of his heart I'll always remember.

My son's name first name is Alejandro, which was a bit of a problem (albeit a humorous one) in l976, his first year (and Matthew's) at Montessori. Confusion reigned as everyone thought his first name was Ali and Handro, his last. Even the teachers called me Mrs. Handro. Having been around a bit, and maybe even understanding Spanish, Tim thought this was just hysterical. And though we eventually got it cleared up, from that day forward Tim called me Mrs. Handro -- even when I ran into him on a visit to HH just a few years ago. And of course, he always did so with that trademark glint in his eye, signaling to me he remembered the punchline.

At a time when there were few of us on HH, Tim uniquely 'got' single mothers and intuitively sensed what particular help we needed be it a chuckle, a hug or a defender for our kids. For that alone, he'll always be my hero.

Once in about fourth grade, when my son was being incessantly bullied by a classmate and my complaints to the school resulted in the boy's father telling me that my son was a sissy due to his absentee father and that he ought to toughen up, Tim quietly (and without my knowledge) called that Dad and presto -- an apology, an about face and from that moment on, remarkable kindness from that father to both my son and me.

Be it on the soccer field or baseball diamond, Tim yelled even louder than I did to encourage my son. And after the game, Tim unfailing had some clever ditty that instantly made everyone forget a losing score.

In Cub Scouts, word was there was a shocking fix in at the Pine Car Derby ... that it was actually the Dads making the cars the kids raced. When my son won, Tim stated in his most audible and serious voice, "Well, it's for sure Mr. Handro didn't make that car!"

Many of the community endeavors I was involved in were different from Tim's. Yet no matter how full that proverbial plate of his became, he could always find a little bit of space on it to help me in mine. And when I'd try to thank him, he'd always say, 'Aw, Mrs. Handro' and give me one of his legendary hugs accompanied by that chuckle.

When my Dad died, Tim wrote the most transforming letter of condolence I've ever received. It didn't matter than he barely knew my Dad. It was all about the celebration of life. So now Tim, much too early, we celebrate yours. It was a doozy.

If you'd like to contact Wendy, click here or email her at DSicre@aol.com