Remembering Dave

Dave Heininger (1942-2025) was the director of the Joseph House Crisis Center. He was with the Joseph House for more than a quarter century. That’s a long time to get to know someone. Here are some personal memories of Dave from people who lived and worked with him.

Sr. Connie:

1). I will personally miss Dave’s sense of humor — his crazy jokes. Time after time I would fall into the trap of taking him seriously, only to be foiled again and again. For example: with a straight face he would say, “You missed my birthday over the weekend.” My knee-jerk reaction was, “Oh, No!! I’m so sorry. How could I do that!…..” Then it would dawn on me that he was up to his old tricks!

2). Dave and I had a mutual love for that not too popular dish — liver and onions. If I was at a restaurant that had the dish, I would place an order for myself and a take-out for him! I will miss my liver-lovin’ buddy!!

Sr. Jennifer:

This goes back to when Sr. Mary Elizabeth was alive. We were in the chapel at church (St. Francis de Sales). The rule was we were to keep our eyes forward on the Eucharist. Dave walks in with Sr. Mary Elizabeth. He has her arm-in-arm singing, “Here comes the bride, all dressed in blue,” with Sr. Marilyn leading the procession. Of course, we turned to look. Fr. Ed Aigner was not amused.

Sr. Virginia:

Dave was so droll, I don’t know how these will strike people.

1). Each day, after all the financial assistance volunteers had finished their interviews with clients, Dave would summon everyone into his office to answer the two Daily Trivia questions, which would be emailed to his cell phone. He would carefully read the question aloud, and then solemnly point to one of us and say, this one is for Sister or this is for Mike or for Marie or Toni. His choice was completely arbitrary. Whoever was chosen would groan and protest, and would venture a guess and the others would weigh in. If the consensus guess was wrong, the designated one would have to accept full responsibility!

2). Now and then we would each find a pink Post-it note on our desk, with a message typed on his old typewriter: “Your services are no longer required. -The Management.”

3). One thing we were remembering — when Sister Pat collapsed with a heart problem and was about to be loaded into the ambulance, Dave said to her, “Does this mean you won’t be at work tomorrow morning?”

Dan, resident volunteer:

I was housemates with Dave for a number of years and I remember how well he liked to take care of the house and property, working in the yard, cutting the grass, doing some painting. On Saturday mornings we would do chores. I usually cleaned the kitchen and vacuumed while Dave worked outside. Later in the day I would hear him in his room, watching a ball game. Each night before he went to bed, I remember how he would stop at the chapel for a moment.

At the Crisis Center, Dave had an informal and friendly demeanor, which helped to make him approachable. He liked to kid around, but that was his way of relating to people and of showing that he cared about you. He was very dedicated to his work and to helping people. After paying someone’s bill, Dave would go the extra mile and make sure there wasn’t a need for anything else like food or gas money.

As director of the Crisis Center, Dave had a lot of responsibilities, which undoubtedly caused more than a few headaches. Someone was always asking him for something, and at various times there were problems with the roof and the septic system and so on. In the end, however, any frustration he showed would quickly lose the upper hand to his easy-going nature. I think it really troubled him to see someone upset. He would put his own feelings aside to help smooth things over.

After I started working at our bookstore in Ocean City I didn’t work with Dave at the Crisis Center anymore, but I did help out when we collected turkeys on the Sunday morning before Thanksgiving. He would be in the church parking lot bright and early with the Joseph House truck. Long hours of waiting in the cold would follow, but Dave had a cheerful greeting for every person who came by with a donation.

I wasn’t into golfing like Dave was, so we didn’t spend a lot of recreational time together. We did see the Shorebirds play (Salisbury’s minor-league baseball team), and once we went kayaking on the Pocomoke River. I appreciate that Dave was willing to do something I liked. He said he had always wanted to try it and was glad he did.

During the Jubilee Year of 2000, Sr. Mary Elizabeth wanted to make a pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. Dave and I took her, taking turns pushing her wheelchair as we visited all the side chapels. It was a cloudy day in early winter, and that added to the hushed atmosphere and sense of quiet prayer we felt. Dave could be very outgoing, but what we experienced that day was part of him, too.

Sr. Mary Elizabeth, the founder of the Joseph House, is the reason why Dave and I ever met. We were both pallbearers at her funeral, both of us holding tightly to a handle on her casket as we carried her to her final resting place in Parsons Cemetery. In the years since we have had to carry on her work, each in our own way.

Now Dave has finished his contribution. He will be remembered for his dedicated and hands-on service to countless people in need, for his years of working in the trenches on the front line. Although it is easy to love a romanticized image of the poor, the reality is often different. Not everyone can deal with real people in the midst of a crisis, especially day in and day out. Dave was able to, and he was able to do it in a spirit of fraternal love. He embodied in true form the mission of the Joseph House.