🕊 IN MEMORIAM 🕊
🕊 In Memory of David Pirie 🕊
1944 - 2026
This is a difficult one for me to write.
We lost David Pirie following the medical emergency that began at Wednesday night poker on September 16, 2026. I’ve found myself getting choked up every time I sit down to think about what I want to say, because David wasn’t simply another name on an attendance sheet or another player sitting at one of our tables. He was part of our Dead Man’s Hand Poker family.
There is one part of that Wednesday night that I especially want to share.
Lesley noticed that David wasn’t himself. She didn’t ignore it or assume somebody else would deal with it. She came and got me. Rob, who had just been eliminated from the tournament, went over to David, took him home and made sure his wife knew that something was seriously wrong. An ambulance was called and David received medical attention.
None of us can change what happened afterward, and I don’t want to pretend that we can. But I keep coming back to what happened in that room.
People noticed. People cared. And people acted.
David wasn’t simply allowed to walk out the door while clearly unwell and fend for himself. The people around him looked after him. I’d like to think that if anyone in our poker family ever found themselves in a situation like that, we would do this for anyone who needed it.
That matters to me.
Poker can sometimes seem like a pretty individual game. We sit across from one another trying to take each other’s chips, knocking each other out of tournaments and occasionally muttering things about somebody’s ridiculous river card. But nights like that remind me that what we have built together has become something much bigger than poker.
David passed away on Sunday, September 20, 2026.
David earned his place in the Harvest Moon season just like everyone else, and his place in those standings remains exactly where he earned it, marked with a 🕊️ beside his name.
At the time of his passing, David also sat 1st in the Stay & Play standings, another reminder of just how well he had been playing that season.
We will not erase what he accomplished. If his finishing position would have earned him a Championship seat, that seat will pass to the next eligible player, but David’s place in our standings and what he earned at our tables will remain his.
And when we reach the end of the season, we will play The 2027 Harvest Moon Showdown Championship in Memory of David Pirie.
For those who have wondered about arrangements, there was no service or celebration of life. David was cremated, and that was his wish. I think it’s important that we respect the way he wanted things handled.
What I didn’t want was for David to be remembered only by what happened at the end of his life.
In the days after his passing, people began sending me stories and memories of him. What came back painted a picture of the same guy I remember: funny, sarcastic, charming, occasionally a little grumpy, always ready with a story, fond of his wine, and somebody who clearly made an impression on a lot of people around our tables.
Rather than try to turn everybody’s memories into one voice, I think the best way to remember Dave is to let the people who knew him speak for themselves.
Karen P. remembered a whole collection of little things that were unmistakably Dave:
“Of course I’ve been thinking about him a lot this week. Here are a few things that have been top of mind: his Cheshire grin, his ability to make one feel like a million bucks, his love for my tie-dye apparel, gratitude for his sponsoring my swim fundraiser in the spring, that bucket hat, and red wine in a tumbler, of course… who could forget THAT?!
I wish I could deal for him one more time. ❤️”
— Karen P.
That tumbler came up again in Steve Durham’s memory. Steve often sat to Dave’s right and helped him with shuffling and dealing when Dave’s hands weren’t cooperating quite as well as they once had.
“Dave and I would joke sarcastically with each other often, and I generally liked sitting to Dave’s right so I could help him with shuffling and dealing. He genuinely appreciated that, and I was happy to do it.
Dave, who liked his wine, told me how he had stopped getting it served in a wine glass and started using a regular short tumbler instead. I thought that was a great solution for him to avoid spilling and, more importantly, losing any of his precious wine!
Dave’s quirky, fun-loving presence will be wholeheartedly missed by me and, I’m sure, by many others.
I know Dave is looking down on us from the final table in the sky, telling stories and laughing with friends, just like during his time in our league. Go all in, Dave! You got this one!”
— Steve Durham
Nancie McAuley remembered meeting Dave while playing Stay & Play with Annie Bodner, and Dave immediately finding the sort of affectionate nickname that only Dave could probably get away with:
“A memory for me, and I’m sure Annie too, is when we first met him. I believe we were playing Stay & Play, and he called us ‘Two Old Broads.’ We had a laugh with that then and every once in a while after that.
Also, when I saw him for the first time on an evening, I would say ‘Hello, Cutie,’ and his sweet smile just lit up. Yes, he could be a curmudgeon, but I liked him very much and enjoyed having a kibitz with him.”
— Nancie
Roberto Ragona remembered that Dave always made a point of saying hello.
“I remember going to Carrigan Arms back when I used to play there, and he would always go out of his way to say hi to me. Whenever we were at a table together, he would always say, ‘You going to let me win a hand or what?’
He was a great human.”
— Roberto
Rob shared a memory from outside our regular league nights, when four of them decided to help Dave cross something off his bucket list.
“A couple of years ago, four of us played in the Seniors WSOP event here in Toronto. Dave was very interested in going, as it was on his bucket list. So we came up with a plan, arrived early for the buy-in day, and returned a few days later to play.
We didn’t last long, Smiley was the last to bust, but we all agreed that it was definitely worth going.”
— Rob
Pat Butera used to call Dave “George” because Dave reminded him of George Carlin. Dave understood the reference completely and apparently enjoyed it, because he would sometimes send Pat Carlin clips.
Then there were Dave’s stories. Pat remembers Dave once starting one with:
“One time we were going to New York to buy a pound of weed…”
Then, on another occasion, Dave started telling him a different story with exactly the same opening:
“One time we were going to New York to buy a pound of weed…”
Pat stopped him and said, basically, “I’ve already heard this one.” Dave corrected him:
“No, that was another time.”
That may be the most perfect Dave response imaginable. Apparently one trip to New York for a pound of weed would have been too ordinary.
Pat also shared a joke that Dave told:
“Do you know that Rolling Stones song with the line, ‘Hey! You! Get off of my cloud!’?
Well, the Scottish want to change it to ‘Hey McLeod, get off my ewe!’”
Ariel Rogers had a Dave story involving an even more famous name.
“One thing Dave and I had in common was that we both knew Joni Mitchell. Dave told me that Joni had actually stayed with him and a buddy of his for a little while, and he hinted that there may even have been some kind of relationship between Joni and his buddy.
I’m not entirely sure I believed that last part, but it certainly made for a good story.
I really liked Dave’s ponytail. He tried really hard to be charming, and he didn’t smoke nearly enough dope.”
— Ariel
That last sentence may be one of the more uniquely Dave Pirie tributes anybody could have submitted.
Jeremy Paczuski remembered Dave as the kind of player you could usually count on to come along for the ride, which made one particular hand stand out even more.
“I didn’t know David P. very well, but I always enjoyed playing against him. From my experience, he was a gambler who loved to see a flop.
In the Championship game about four months ago, we started at the same table, and it seemed like he called just about every bet before the flop.
About 45 minutes in, I picked up AA on the button. Everyone folded to me, and I raised to 3BB, knowing I could at least count on David in the big blind to give me some action.
The small blind folded... and then, for what seemed like the first time all night, David folded too.
His reason?
He needed to go to the bathroom.
I showed my Aces, and the table, including David, had a good laugh. The one time I was actually counting on David to call, nature called instead.”
— Jeremy Paczuski
Shivang Raichura remembered the competitive side of Dave, and one particular line Dave liked to use whenever he got the better of him.
“David was very competitive with me. Every time he knocked me out, he used to giggle and say, ‘Son, I got you.’
I liked playing poker with him because he was a strong player.
I’m deeply saddened to hear about David’s passing. I’ll always remember the poker nights we shared, the laughs and the good times around the table. He’ll definitely be missed by all of us.
My deepest condolences to David’s family and loved ones. May he rest in peace. 🙏”
— Shivang Raichura
Deb Linger’s memory was less about a particular hand or joke and more about the kind of group Dave was part of, and the way people looked out for one another.
“I didn’t know him very well, but I did play with him a few times. We have a great group, and we’re very fortunate that everyone looks out for one another.”
— Deb
That takes me back to what happened on September 16. Poker is an individual game, but what we’ve built around it isn’t.
Dave was part of that.
I have a couple of my own memories that keep making me laugh. One was simply the way Dave walked.
Dave was an older guy, his shoulders were a little hunched, and he took these tiny little steps. Somehow he always looked like he was in a tremendous hurry while travelling at approximately the speed of continental drift. You could tell when he was really hurrying because the little steps got faster, but they remained little steps, so it still took him forever to actually get anywhere.
One night at Carrigan Arms, the big projection screen was down with a football game playing on it. Dave started making his way across the room directly in front of the screen, and I immediately slipped into my best Chris Berman impression.
“He’s at the 50! He’s at the 40! He’s at the 30!”
Dave stopped and looked at me like I had completely lost my mind. So naturally I continued.
“Rumblin’, stumblin’, bumblin’!”
He turned around and started walking again.
“HE COULD GO ALL THE WAY!”
Dave laughed. I laughed. And now every time I picture that little walk, that is the first thing I hear in my head.
The other one involves something called Pappy G’s miracle salve.
For a while Dave was promoting this stuff like he had personally discovered medicine. I’m still not sure whether he knew the guy who made it, had some kind of deal with him, or had simply appointed himself the official spokesman.
One night he asked me if I had any pain. I told him my back got sore sometimes. Dave immediately told me the salve would work great.
“Just get your honey to rub it on there and you’ll feel great.”
He gave me some to take home.
Lesley and I hadn’t actually tried it yet when Dave arrived at the next poker night. I was standing near my table when I saw him come through the door, spot me, and immediately begin that tiny-step charge across the room.
It took him roughly three fiscal quarters to reach me.
When he finally got there, he leaned right into my ear and, in this quiet little almost-creepy whisper, asked:
“Did you get a massage?”
I absolutely lost it.
Lesley and I still laugh about that one. I suspect we always will.
And that, more than anything, is what I wanted this page to accomplish.
The grin. The ponytail. The bucket hat. The stories. The tumbler of wine. “Two Old Broads.” “Hello, Cutie.” George Carlin. The tiny walk. The massage. A bucket-list trip to play in the WSOP. Aces folded because nature called. “Son, I got you.”
Those are the things that remain.
But there is another side of David that those of us who mainly knew him from the poker table only saw pieces of.
His wife, Karen, shared four family photographs with me and wrote something about the man she knew for more than half a century. I don’t think her words need anything added to them, so I’m leaving them exactly as she wrote them:
"David Pirie was a man of simple pleasures. His dream was to own a home with a fence and earn enough money to pay taxes. Once he set his mind to something he made it happen.
Born in Nova Scotia in 1944. Escaped at a young age to Toronto. He somehow survived the 60’s and 70’s and left a lot of broken hearts along the way. In 1975 I kidnapped him and we worked towards his dream.
His backyard was his haven. He was an avid gardener. Planted a huge vegetable garden for years to the delight of all the neighbors. He loved to cook and everything was from scratch including desserts. David planted many rose bushes over the years and our dining room table enjoyed his hard work every spring and summer and fall.
He wasn’t one to sit around. Winters were spent on the ski slopes with his son Matthew. He loved to talk and was out on his electric cart chatting up the neighbors. His favorite pastime — POKER. Always looked forward to Wed. and Sundays with everyone at Carrigan Arms and came home with wins and loss’s!
David created a marriage of 51 years (“two life sentences,” he used to say), a wonderful son, Matthew, and two beautiful grandkids — Elora and Cohen — and of course Karen.
He was his own man. Lived an honest life. Left no enemies. He’ll be sorely missed and remembered by many.
He’s left the game — Poker On!!"
Karen also gave me the original handwritten page, and I’ve included an image of it here along with the transcription because there is something about seeing those words in her own handwriting that deserves to be preserved.
Rob Gracie has also very graciously put together a gallery of photographs of David that he has taken over the years. Some of those photos are included above. Click on any of them to visit Rob’s full gallery and see the complete collection.
This page is meant to be a permanent home for David’s story at Dead Man’s Hand Poker.
He earned his place in the history of this league, but more importantly, he earned a place in the memories of the people who shared the tables with him, laughed with him, argued over cards with him, helped him shuffle, listened to his stories, watched him enjoy his wine and simply got to know him.
And this page does not have to be finished.
If you have a memory of Dave, a story, a photograph, a memorable hand, something he said, or simply a few words about what you remember about him, contact me. I’ll be happy to add more to this page so that those memories can become part of his story too. Or you can leave your comments below.
David has left the game.
But we’re still telling his stories.
Rest in peace, Dave. You’ll have a seat at our table for a long time to come. 🕊️