Donald Victor Clark was born to Anne Caroline Tame and Albert Victor Clark on March 11, 1922. “I was born a poor boy in London,,,,” “Never!” said Annie, overhearing him, “there was always butter on the table, and you had leather shoes! You was never poor!” None-the less, Donald grew up as the only child of a single mother, living in his grandparents’ house. It was post World-War I London, where the pollution was so thick, the sun was rarely seen.

He left school at the age of 14, and signed up for the British Army at 18. He spent the next six years in Egypt, Tunisia, Malta, Italy and Lebanon. He experienced weeks of sunny days for the first time in his life, suffered a flesh wound from a bullet, broke his nose in a fight and developed a life-long passion for seeing the world. He also lost friends in battle, something he never spoke about.
Donald was a world-traveling confirmed bachelor in his 30s, when he met the lovely Susan Kaye Robinson on a ship traveling to South Africa. They both enjoyed dancing, and he thought they were just having fun. But she had a different plan, and a few years later they married. They were very different on the surface, he was older, she was university-educated from an upper-middle class home, but they shared the same adventuresome spirit and generous nature.

Donald and Susan left South Africa, as Don was reluctant to raise a family under the shadow of apartheid. They landed in New York City on a snowy day, with one infant and another on the way. Don went on to become a very successful salesman. But even when he got to the top of his company, he regularly took his sandwich to lunch with the fellows in the warehouse. Don could and would talk with anyone. Ever the optimist, and humanist, he was supportive of fair wages and fair treatment regardless of race, gender or sexual orientation. His morning goodbye words to his children as they headed out to school was frequently “be kind to your teachers!” At the time, it didn’t make sense. Later we realized, “be kind” was something he said frequently.
Donald suffered the hardest misfortune ever when Susan died, in 2020, at the start of the pandemic. Alone in his apartment for a year, seeing only the wonderfully kind front desk staff at Chester Village when he went for his daily, unsanctioned walk. His children marveled at his emotional fortitude. He spent a lot of time, reminiscing about how a poor boy from London ended up wealthy in life and love. “I’ve had a good life” he said, many times. To the end of his days, he was an example of strength through humor, acceptance and generosity to others.

Donald died 10 days short of his 100th birthday. He will be missed by his children, Jennifer Clark and Malcolm Clark, their spouses, Carl Boland and Rosie Clark. He also leaves behind five grandchildren, of whom he was proud – Garrett and Kel Boland, and Isobel, Hugo and George Clark.
Malcolm and Jennifer Clark thank the wonderful staff and residents of Masonicare at Chester Village for their companionship and support. Memorial donations may be made in Donald’s memory to the Masonicare at Chester Village Scholarship Fund or any veterans’ association.