Thomas Harry Davidson May 3, 1937 – March 27, 2026

Thomas Harry Davidson—Tom to everyone who knew him—passed away on March 27, 2026, in Savona, New York, the town where he spent nearly all of his 88 years. He was a man who knew who he was, knew what he thought, and was in no particular hurry to reconsider either.

Tom was born on May 3, 1937, in Bath, New York, and graduated from Savona Central School in 1956. He served his country as a Corporal in the United States Army stationed in Germany before returning to the community he loved. In his later years, he and his wife Mary discovered the pleasures of a Florida winter, spending thirteen seasons trading Steuben County snow for warmer skies, though Savona was always home.

He was a devoted husband to Mary for 57 years, until her passing in 2020. Their love story ended where it began, and Tom will be laid to rest beside her at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Bath. He is survived by his three children: Rene’ Force, Rebecca Luta, and Matthew Davidson; nine grandchildren; and fourteen great-grandchildren, who will carry his memory, and maybe a few of his opinions, forward.

Tom had the passions of a man who paid attention to things worth keeping: he was an avid collector and enjoyed playing poker. But perhaps his most reliable hobby was making people laugh. Tom was a man of strong convictions; once he arrived at a position, he held it with the confidence of someone who had thought it through and saw no compelling reason to change his mind. When he did, it was entirely on his own terms. He had a gift for puncturing a tense moment with a well-timed wisecrack, and he deployed them freely. Ask him how he was doing and he'd tell you, "I’ve been better, but it cost more." If a waitress asked, “Do you want a box?” he’d reply, "I'd rather wrestle." He never met a server he didn't try to charm, and the charm usually worked.

What his family will remember, too, is that Tom moved through the world with the curiosity of someone who never quite lost his sense of wonder. Even in his later years, he could greet an ordinary moment with the enthusiasm of a kid encountering it for the first time. On a flight once from Glasgow to London, hearing the landing gear lower on approach, he called out with genuine delight, "We're going down, we're going down!" —prompting his wife Mary to sharply remind him that you cannot announce you're going down on a plane full of people, even if you only mean that you're landing. He probably thought that was funny, too.

Tom Davidson was, in the best sense, someone who left a room a little livelier than he found it. We honor his memory. He will be deeply missed.