The Making Of A Mechanic

Dear Family,

Jenny has asked that we write some remembrances of Denny that the family might enjoy reading.

I have a few memories you may not know about.

THE BEGINNING OF THE CREATION OF A MECHANIC

As you all know, Denny was born on December 3, 1949. What you may not know is that he was a very sick little boy. He looked absolutely terrible.  He was so sick that he very seldom slept, but cried most of the time. After caring for him all day, and by the time I got home from work, Nana was exhausted. I would take over to let her get some rest until bedtime; then we would take turns watching him during the night as he had trouble breathing. This went on for a couple of months, until Nana and I were both so tired that we were afraid we would fall asleep and Denny would quit breathing.  Even though we had no money,( I was only making a little over $1.00 an hour then), we decided we needed to hire a nurse to watch him; at least for one night. We did that. The next morning the nurse said, “It’s a good thing I was here. Denny stopped breathing and started to turn blue. I picked him up and got him breathing again. Your little boy is very sick. I know a doctor that may be able to help him.”  We took the doctor’s name and made an appointment for him to see Denny.  After he examined Denny, he said he thought Denny may have asthma.  As I remember, he made up some kind of medicine, or, maybe it was pharmacy made. I’m not sure.  Anyway, we began giving it to Denny immediately. It was only a few days until he began breathing better and sleeping a little.  Within a few months Denny was putting on weight and sitting up playing with his toys by the hour. By the time he was six months old he was the healthiest and cutest little boy you ever saw. Apparently the medicine the doctor had given him had given his body the ability to overcome the asthma and he was never troubled with it again. We were forever grateful to both the nurse and the doctor.

It was 1954. We had just moved into our first home a few months before, in 1953. Denny was three. I don’t remember how or where we got it, but we got a little tricycle for Denny. He loved it. He rode it all the time, and as fast as he could go. He rode it like the devil was after him. He rode it so hard that one day he bent the left rear wheel so bad he couldn’t ride it anymore. Several times he asked me to fix it but it seems that I didn’t get around to it as soon as he thought I ought to. One day when I came home, there he was riding his trike, going like the wind, likity split, all over the yard. Somewhere he had gotten some kind of tool and taken the broken wheel off the trike.  He then would tip the trike over to the right side on two wheels and ride it like a bicycle. The beginning of “THE MECHANIC”.

                                                               

PAPA