Born 10 weeks premature in 1952, Dr. Davin entered the world with a twin, both in profound respiratory distress. His parents were advised to find a funeral home and he and his twin brother were placed in 100% oxygen for 10 weeks. He was baptized "In Periculo Mortis," in danger of death, but, as he likes to say, he and his brother "fooled the bastards" and David went on to admire the pediatrician that frequently cared for him as a young boy, the only person worthy of admiration in the dark, blue collar, white ghetto in which he was raised, most notable for its alcoholism, bigotry, and domestic violence.
At around the age of ten he came upon a crowd of people three deep standing in the street around what he soon realized was the dying, bleeding victim of a multiple stabbing. People did nothing but wait for an ambulance as the man slowly died. Watching the life leave the man and spill onto the street with every beat of his heart, young Davin tried to work his way through the forest of grown up legs that repeatedly stopped the young boy who had taken off his belt to use as a tourniquet. The grown ups refused to let the child through, even though they just stood around helplessly. The man died before the ambulance arrived. David knew that if they would just get out of his way he could help the man live. Now, some fifty years later, he is still asking the endless crowd to get out of his way so he can do what he knows he must do.