David C. Briscoe's Obituary
David C. Briscoe, Jr.
1943 ~ 2026
Devoted to his family, his fascination and interest in the world, and his connection through the written word, David Chesley Briscoe, Jr. lived a hope-filled and productive life. He died in Kapolei, Hawaii on June 7, 2026 - listening to his own words read aloud by youngest daughter Maya, his loving wife Leonor by his side. He had spent the day surrounded by family, with Bob Dylan providing the musical backdrop. He was 82.
One of David’s mantras was, “Make your mark!” through the act of writing in any form: poems, stories, reporting, or journaling. In his words: "Telling true stories is absolutely essential to the continuation of mankind. In the olden times, the ancient wrote in the caves to tell their story. It's a human need – to tell your story and become immortal through what you write and leave behind." In his last years, he delighted in writing a daily entry in his “Old Man Journal” and collected pens, little printers, and paints of all kinds to build each page as a piece of art.
In lieu of flowers, please continue writing, or try starting, a journal.
David is survived by wife Leonor “Noree” of Kapolei, Hawaii; brother Roscoe of Salt Lake City, Utah; four children: Johanna “Jeleen” Sindall of Bozeman, Montana, Narra Geisinger of Falls Church, Virginia, Larak “Raki” Briscoe of Kapolei, Hawaii and Maya Terhune of Ewa Beach, Hawaii; three sons-in-law: David Sindall, Nick Geisinger and Greg Terhune; and a daughter-in-law: Elise Smith-Tang Briscoe. He is also survived by seven grandchildren: Sasha, Eva and Kai Geisinger, Chesley and Malaya Terhune, and Dylan and Hudson Briscoe.
David’s ashes will be scattered in the Pacific Ocean, drifting homeward bound with the waves to the shores of the mainland of the United States, Hawaii, and the Philippines.
~
David was born July 30, 1943, in Salt Lake City, Utah, to Norma Wolf Briscoe and David Chesley Briscoe, Sr. (known as "Chesley"). Through example, his mother taught the benefits of maintaining a good-natured and optimistic perspective. Norma was an environmentalist and frugal preservationist whose life centered on stewardship of the land: “My mother lived to be 96 years old, and her last day, she spent in her garden, digging into the soil, getting down and finding what this earth means – not just the people, but the planet itself." David credited his mother with his penchant for “logical rebellion”: she drank her favorite caffeinated Tab soda in defiance of the Church of Latter Day Saints, the religion in which Norma raised her two sons, saying, "I'm old and I can do what I want.”
David learned a love for reading and for the written word from his father Chesley, a self-taught reader and life-long learner who grew up in poverty and greatly appreciated the public library and the access it gave him to the world. Chesley eventually became a labor union leader, and his representation of and advocacy for the working-class deeply influenced his sons. David loved and respected his younger brother Roscoe, and both shared their father’s interest in world affairs. David said his first memory was balancing on his mother’s wheelchair as they brought newborn Roscoe home from the hospital. In a recent interview granddaughter Eva had with her great uncle, Roscoe said: "My brother has been another huge influence on me. I always thought my brother was smarter than I am. And I still think he is." Upon hearing this later, Papa was wide-eyed in disbelief because he in turn had always thought the same of his brother. Roscoe spent time with David in April while he was being cared for at Pali Momi Hospital for amyloidosis, a disorder where protein buildup can lead to organ damage. Roscoe’s parting words at the end of his visit were, “Thank you for being the best big brother.”
At a young age David had an interest in gathering stories and reporting, leading his brother and a friend as editor-in-chief of their own short-lived neighborhood newsletter. After graduating from South High School in 1961, David worked at a local go-kart track, which he called one of the most fun jobs he ever had. He saved everything he earned to help pay the $100 per quarter tuition for University of Utah, where he majored in English Education and minored in Journalism. While still a student, David began work at the Deseret News, mostly watching the news wire and writing obituaries, but eventually reporting on his first real story about the circus.
In 1966, David joined the Peace Corps and was assigned to Paracale and then Naga City in the Philippines to teach English – “and that,” he once said, “has made all the difference.” David fell in love with his new home, and after his Peace Corps commitment ended, he got a job at a local newspaper. While waiting for President Marcos to arrive at an event, David met the indoor-dark-glasses-wearing Leonor Aureus, editor of a rival paper. They soon began a courtship built on letter writing. Leonor fell in love with David’s beautiful and vivid words, thinking, “This is a man I can talk to.” The two were married in 1970, first in a simple Mormon bishop-officiated ceremony honoring David’s Utah roots, and then several weeks later again in a Catholic ecumenical ceremony, processing down a church aisle lined with newspapers. David began working for the Associated Press in Manila as a local reporter, and after one year of apartment living, the pair, with “$75 total assets” to their name, moved to Salt Lake where Leonor met David’s parents for the first time. David continued working for the Associate Press Salt Lake bureau, and Leonor learned how to manage a home from a kind, generous and fun teacher: Norma Briscoe.
In Salt Lake, we four children soon joined the fray: Jeleen, Narra, Raki, and Maya, thriving in the suburbs at the base of the Wasatch Mountains, running or crawling to welcome our Papa every evening after work, listening to made-up stories at bedtime, helping make Papa’s specialty “rootbeer floats” in the backyard sandbox. In1980 our family moved to the Philippines where Papa was assigned as chief to the Manila Associated Press bureau. Some of this six year chapter of Papa’s career is covered in the obituary issued by the Associated Press. https://apnews.com/article/philippines-marcos-aquino-ap-reporter-briscoe-bbeacb3896835030392897543e98d9b6
From Utah to the Philippines, and later to Virginia and Hawaii, Papa remained attentive and interested in our individual lives. He orchestrated Christmas and birthday gift scavenger hunts for the family. He was an early aficionado of computer coding, teaching us to make quizzes and games for each other. We relished his trivia and math games at the dinner table. He patiently, and occasionally not so patiently, taught each of us to drive. He instilled in us a love of dogs, once famously noting: “We like our dogs a little bit bad.” In the 80s we had mongrel dogs bought from a Manila street vendor, puppy offspring through the years, and one full breed Shar Pei named Ninoy – and Papa would have long tick-harvesting sessions with each of them, us kids gathered around watching in fascination and horror. In Virginia we had two more Shar Peis, sweet China and gentle Dylan, and a Boston Terrier named Jakob (after Bob’s son).
Through the most stressful and eventful stories of his journalism career, and even when he was weakened by illness in his last months, he was always fully present for us. His endlessly cheerful demeanor and genuine delight in connections made every conversation seem as if he had been just waiting for us to stop by or call. Papa wrote in his journal every single day up until his last days in the hospital when he was too weak to hold the pen. We always looked forward to the pages he dedicated to each of us throughout the years, tracking our lives as we grew into adulthood.
David and “Noree” – what Papa called Mommy – were best friends. We grew up under their love, comfort, authenticity, and enjoyment of each other, bearing witness to and benefitting from a partnership across race and culture. We learned what healthy arguments looked like between spouses, and how to repair small fissures from mis-stated words said in moments of passion. Papa and Mommy jointly navigated our family through deeply tough times, but as Papa put it, “Families are capable of getting through things as long as they make tiny incremental decisions to support each other.” Our parents enjoyed discussing world events and the family, puttering in their shared office, and going to the movies, looking out for “cheap date” package deals and in their retirement subscribing to the elderly discount membership at the local Kapolei theaters, closed-caption on Tuesdays for Mommy of course. Last summer at an Aureus family reunion Papa shared his feelings for Mommy publicly, thankful that he was fortunate to share this human experience with the love of his life.
Papa deeply loved his seven grandchildren and always tried to find ways to connect, whether it be through journaling, music, Legos, movie making, kite flying. He had special and close relationships with each of his kids-in-law. Most everyone who knew Papa through us children also called him “Papa” – grandkids, in-laws, friends. The exception is Raki’s son Dylan, who called Papa “Grandpa,” because when Raki became a father, there was no question that he too would be “Papa.” Hudson was born in March so didn’t get a chance to call Papa anything except a few gurgles with big smiles.
One constant throughout his life deserves special emphasis: Papa loved Bob Dylan. We grew up surrounded by Bob at HIGH volume, sometimes so loud, we could hear harmonica riffs from a block away. Papa had a framed picture of Bob by his bedside. In his speech at Narra and Nick’s wedding, Papa shared the six secrets to a happy marriage, and one of those was simply “Bob Dylan” – no further explanation needed.
The day after entering hospice, on the night before his passing, Papa and Mommy talked about their lives together. Papa was happy his four children were all together on the island. He squeezed Mommy’s hand and said, “We’ve had a good life together. Let me go.” The morning of June 7th, Noree, and we four siblings surrounded Papa’s bedside, with Uncle Rosc on speaker phone from Salt Lake City, each of us sharing our gratitude for Papa and assuring him we were going to somehow manage carrying on without him. We were devastated and heartbroken, but we told Papa we’d always do our best to express and embody a bit of him in our lives. Mommy repeated words they’d shared the previous night, telling him, “David, I love you. Go in peace.” Papa’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady, but we could tell he was hearing every word. After all spoke, Narra played a rendition of Bob Dylan’s Feel My Love performed by Papa’s granddaughters Sasha and Eva. https://www.instagram.com/p/DL5qjyuT5CB/ Papa turned toward the sound and said his last words:
“TURN IT UP.”
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