A Disturbance in the Force
On steadfastness, quiet generosity, and the language we’ve stopped using.
Dennis Banks is dead. His obituary states he died peacefully at age 84. I did not know this man, but after reading his brief, but beautifully-written memorial tribute in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch Newspaper Obituary Section, I believe I would have been enriched by knowing him and being counted among those who constituted his circle of friends.
I no longer reside in St. Louis, having left more than a half-century ago for the more temperate Southern California climes. As I aged through my Sixties, then Seventies, and now Eighties a weekly Sunday-morning ritual evolved. I would take my coffee to the home office, log on to the Post-Dispatch’s website, and check first on sports news of my beloved Missouri Tigers football team and then to the Obits section to see if I knew anyone among the list of decedents.
photo by José Ramos
As I scanned the names last Sunday, a photo portrait appeared of a small man whose face exemplified the quiet countenance of kindness. I stopped and read the ode to this four-decade career Boeing engineer who was a transplant from England. He couldn’t look more British than if he had the Union Jack face tattooed on his forehead.
The eulogy did not exceed 250 words, but each phrase seemed to magnify the measure of the personal loss of this dear husband, friend, brother, and uncle.
The death notice began, “Dennis Banks, a steadfast and hardworking man, passed away peacefully at the age of 84 on April 7, 2026, leaving behind a legacy defined by dedication and quiet generosity.”
That caught my eye — “a steadfast and hardworking man;” and “quiet generosity.”
I was stunned by the choice of words. Who describes someone nowadays as steadfast and hardworking? Or exemplifying one’s quiet generosity? No one; it’s a rare but poignant compliment and in this age of selfies and Gen-Y, Z, or Alpha’ers. I doubt it would garner a second thought among any of them.
I concluded this man, Dennis Banks, was as special as the language chosen to define his legacy. I re-read his obituary several times and although it was brief, the essence of a true human being emerged; one who appeared content with himself and whom we should aspire to be like. His steadiness was apparently a guiding beacon to a safe harbor for friends and family for a reason; he was a man in full.
His lifelong partnership with his wife produced no children, but that vacuum was filled with his steady guidance or a helping hand extended, and as if he had nothing better to do than lend a listening ear whenever it was needed. What a man!
You don’t say those sorts of things about a person without a deep and abiding connection - a nexus, to him. This man seemed to be the epitome of a friend. Is it my imagination, or did they stop making people like Dennis? Or, perhaps they did but in diminished numbers.
His obituary concludes that he will be remembered for his strong work ethic, his dependable nature, and the quiet kindness he extended to those around him.
On my third re-read of this marvelous tribute, the final words of the obituary contain a universal affirmative and lesson: His life stands as a reminder that a meaningful legacy is built not in grand gestures, but in everyday acts of integrity and compassion.
Each of us needs to try to daily emulate Dennis Banks and extend our quiet kindness to all those around us if we intend to live in a better world, even if we have to fake it.
The obituary notes that Dennis is survived by his wife, extended family, and many dear friends who will miss him deeply.
When I did the final read, I was reminded of a scene from the original Star Wars movie when Obi Wan Kenobi senses a loss in The Force as the planet Alderaan explodes when attacked by the Death Star’s super laser. We should all feel the same sense of loss with Dennis’ passing or on the occasion of the passing of a close relative or friend. We must constantly be reminded of the Dennises of this life and their commitment to treating others with compassion and the goodness that results and make that our minimum standard of social interaction.
We need steadfast and hardworking guides in our lives like Dennis Banks to remind ourselves to foster quiet generosity.
Michael Hennessy