In Loving Memory of David G Shuman
January 11, 1945 – October 29, 2025

The world lost a legend, curmudgeon, and Santa Claus all rolled into one on October 29th, 2025. David hung up his tool belt and Santa suit for the last time, leaving behind a trail of laughter, eye rolls, and memories that will echo through every creaky floorboard he ever fixed.

Born on January 11, 1945, David spent his life perfecting the art of maintenance—whether it was fixing a leaky faucet, tinkering with engines, or duct-taping things that probably shouldn’t be duct-taped. He would MacGyver a solution to just about anything, usually while muttering something sarcastic under his breath.

But it wasn’t all wrenches and wisecracks. For years, he moonlighted as Santa Claus, bringing joy (and just a touch of bah-humbug) to kids and adults alike. His most famous gigs? Riding the rails as Santa on the Blue Ridge Scenic Railway and surfing it up at the Ala Moana Center Mall in Hawaii, where he spread holiday cheer with a twinkle in his eye and a candy cane in his pocket—though he’d never admit he enjoyed it.

Stubborn as a mule and sharp as a tack, David had a sense of humor that could light up a room—or at least make you groan and laugh at the same time. He was the kind of guy who’d argue with a GPS, win, and still end up at the right destination.

He is survived by his wife of nearly 46 years, Sherry Shuman, who somehow tolerated him since November 24, 1979. He passed just shy of their anniversary, probably to avoid buying a gift.

He also leaves behind 2 sons, Jeremy and Ben. His daughter, Amie and her husband Zachariah. He was preceded in death by his son, Shayne, who passed in 2024 and is survived by his wife, Kristina. He leaves four grandkids who inherited his sense of humor and possibly his stubborn streak: Jeb, Cori, Hailey and Eli. Eli affectionately called David Grandaddy Grumpface. And of course, his loyal fur babies: Holly and Jules (let’s face it- the actual favorites), who are still waiting for treats and belly rubs.

He leaves behind a garage full of tools, Santa suits that smell faintly of peppermint, and a family who will miss him fiercely—but will keep his spirit alive through sarcastic jokes, stubborn debates, and fixing things the “wrong but effective” way.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you fix something that’s been broken for too long, tell a good joke, or dress up as Santa just once—even if you’re more Grinch than Claus. Extra points to those who do all three at once.

Rest easy, Dad. You were one of a kind, and we wouldn’t have changed a single thing (except maybe your thermostat settings).

We’ll keep the spirit alive, one sarcastic comment at a time.

Services to be scheduled at a later time.