Someday I'll be able to share some of the Great stories I have of Uncle Denny...

I get on here time after time with the thought that I'll leave a funny up-lifting story about the uncle I am closest to...My Uncle Doom...I loved his dangerous side, it matched so well with mine...However everytime I get on I read, and cry, and hurt...I didn't visit him or talk to him enough in this last year...I couldn't imagine him not being here for me to make more contact with when he was better. I thought that giving hhim space to get better would help, yet now I think that all it did was rob myself of the little time I really had left with him...

I know that Denny and I had such a great friendship as welll as being Uncle and Neice. I have to go...I can't see through all the water pouring from my eyes.

I love you all and am so grateful to you guys for keeping the memories alive!  

 

      Candy

 

"I need a board..."

During one of dad's last visits to UCSF, Becky, Kimmie, Candy and I were in his room with him, and he declared that he needed a board. We said, 'huh'? A board? For what? He said, "just listen".

And then very slowly but very seriously he said, "I need a board, about this big by this big" as he used his hands to describe a board about as big as your lap. "It needs to have a hole, right about here" as he draws with his finger a little hole in the upper right hand corner of the board a bit bigger than a quarter. Then he pauses, a bit too long, and we swear he either fell asleep or can't remember what he was about to say, then starts in again with "then, when somebody comes in, I can put my hand here, just like this" and with his left hand, he slowly bends the fingers of his right hand into his palm except for the middle one, which he leaves sticking straight up. He lays his hand down on the board, and says, "There. Just like that" and grins at us as if he just thought up the most ingenious thing ever.

We cracked up at the bizarre ending to the story and we're still not sure to this day whether he was trying to distract us with the 'I need a board' start, or if he was just really loopy and to his muddled mind this made all the sense in the world! Either way it was hilarious, and now anytime one of us makes a smart ass remark, all we have to say is, "I need a board" and we all start laughing again!

Tribute

Rob Deckman, our newest neighbor, loved Denny so much because of all the wonderful things he did for Rob and his family.  He welcomed Rob and his family by feeding them and giving them special names.  Rob is Mr. R. Deckman, Ava, his wife, is M.R.S. Deckman,  his son Justin is Mr. J Deckman and the twin girls, Brittney and Brianna were dubbed the double Deckmans.  So, when Denny passed away, he wanted to do something special for him.  This remembrance plaque is on the bench in his yard. 
Becky 

Denny's First Fight

It was about the same time that Denny started in school that he began having trouble with the neighborhood kids - the Berrys. They were always picking on Denny on the way home from school. We had told Denny we didn't want him to be fighting with anybody and to try to make friends with them. D J, the bigger of the two, was usually the instigator of all the trouble and wasn't about to be friends with anyone he could push around. This went on for some time and Denny, try as he did, could not avoid DJ. He told us that he was tired of getting beat up and not being able to fight back. We had had about enough too and told Denny that the next day he could fight back; just get D J in front of our house before he started so we could see that it was fair and that he didn't get ganged up on. Let the fight begin!!

And begin it did. Denny CLEANED D J'S CLOCK. D J  went home and told his mother that Denny Tovey beat him up. Mrs. Berry came up to our house and called Nana out to the sidewalk and started pushing her around. when Mrs Berry tore the front of Nana's blouse off, Nana had had enough also. She slugged her in the face and knocked her on her a_ _ . End of fight.

The next thing we knew we were summoned to the District Attorney's office to answer a complaint. Mrs. Berry told her story showing her black eye and Nana answered with her story showing her torn blouse. The D. A. dismissed the complaint. That was not quite the end of the problem. The kids started throwing rotten apples on our porch. One day I caught one of them doing it and chased him around the corner and into his grammpa's barbershop. I was standing in the doorway. I smiled at the barber and said, "We need to have a talk about your grandson."  Without a word he stepped forward and with his right foot sent a kick toward my crotch. I stepped back far enough so the kick didn't land and when his leg was to the end of the kick I caught his heel and yanked up hard dumping him right on his a _ _  on the barbershop floor. That was the end of Denny's problems with the Berry family.

Papa

One match fire

Denny liked to build fires as you all know.  He had a certain way of building one in the fireplace that would light up with one match.  He’d put a layer of wadded up newspaper in the grate then layer the kindling, then the logs to burn.  He was very specific about this.  It wouldn’t work any other way.  And he was usually right. 

Saturday was an especially cold day and I decided to light a fire in the fireplace instead of turning on the heater.  We had thrown a lot of old mail and other papers in there to burn when we got to it.  I didn’t want to spend the time wadding up newspaper and just decided to lay the kindling and then the split logs on.  Then, I got the lighter and started the fire.  I thought that because I didn’t do it the “Denny way” that it wouldn’t work.  To my surprise, it lit up perfectly!  Just like the one match fire we always built.  In a matter of minutes I had a blazing fire.  It really surprised me.  Then I thought, “I had help with this one.”  Thank you Denny. 

Rebecca Tovey

The Grass Is Always Greener

Went to the cemetery tonight for a visit. I brought along with me 4 gallons of water and a bag of Miracle Grow Powder. I mixed up the pretty blue concoction and watered dad's grass. I'm hoping it will help it green up a bit faster. The sod they laid back down all died and has just made visiting a bit extra depressing. This week green grass has finally started to shoot up, but not fast enough for me!

Becky met me there and we spent quite a while talking and wandering around the cemetery until it got dark. It's nice to visit sometimes. Feels like you're kinda with him for a moment.

We saw that some of the Veterans head stones had arrived for those vets that passed away in February and March, so we're hoping dad's comes in in the next couple of weeks. Becky is going to call to find out if they'll let us know when they'll put it in. We'd like to be there when the cement around the marker is wet to maybe write something in it.

We'll take pictures when it's in to post here on the blog.

What A Great Laugh

The last couple of days I have been laughing myself silly over a cake that my sister made that was not quite the masterpiece she intended it to be. It looked so terrible that I laughed so hard I couldn't speak or breathe and every time I retell the story I laugh just as hard.

It's that no-sound-hoarse-can't-breathe-tears-streaming-down-your-face-doubled-over-kinda laughter that my dad was so great at. He was a great story teller, and when he found something that was truly funny, he laughed this hard every time he repeated it. If you were listening to him tell that story, you too would start to laugh. He was so funny to watch and to listen to! This super tough, usually cranky kinda guy who all the sudden is giggling, then downright cracking up while wiping tears off his face and attempting to finish the story in this squeaky, high pitched voice was really something to watch.

I remember him and I laughing this hard one time in church. Yep, that's right, in the middle of Sacrament Meeting. He and I were sitting next to each other somewhat listening to the speaker. They said something that made my dad and I look at each other and start to silently giggle. I can't remember what it was that we thought was so funny, but it was just he and I that seemed to get the joke. Then the speaker said something else along the same lines, and he and I totally lost it. We were both bending over trying to conceal our faces, laughing that silent laugh as hard as we could. We both were wiping away the tears trying not to be the first one to take a breath and start howling out loud. We must have been making enough noise, because the people sitting in front of us turned around to look to see what was going on. Then mom noticed. She whipped her head around and glared at us, mortified that we would be acting so inappropriate in the middle of church!! We eventually controlled ourselves without either of us actually making a sound out loud. We pretty much avoided looking at each other though cause every time we did, we started to giggle again.

That is one of my most favorite memories of me and my dad. A joke that only he and I got, laughing the same way, in a very odd moment. I love it.

I will never forget that laugh. I hear it again every time I laugh.

Thanks for the gift of laughter, dad. I love you.

Bug

Variable Consistency

Towards the end my Dad came up with a new catchphrase that I didn't really get. He thought it was hilarious. It was based on some exchange with one of his nurses at UCSF and her wondering if Dad was as difficult with all the other nurses as he was with her. I don't remember how it went exactly, but it ended with, "Everyone gets the same treatment."

He was always working on a new catchphrase, but that's not where I'm going with this story. My story is that with my Dad this phrase was true. Everyone did get the same treatment. They got the same amount of love and attention from him, BUT it was very tailored and fitted to each person. All us kids were not treated all the same, but we were given the same amount of individual attention. I'm hoping that makes sense. None of us can share the same stories unless we were ALL there. We all have individual stories that are unique and our own, but we all have them. Here's an example to better illustrate:

When I was in middle school for a couple summers, Dad and I would go dirt bike riding. I think maybe on a couple outings Chris or Doug may have been there, but the vast majority of the times it was just me and Dad. Chris was out of the house probably and Doug was too young to ride. We went several times each summer. Dad had a big Husqvarna and I had a little old Suzuki. We'd load them up in the truck, stop by and grab a bunch of snacks and Wild Cherry 7-Ups and head down to Oroville out near the airport and ride in these big open fields. Dad taught me how to ride a motorcycle. The place we rode was a huge range of fields with a dried creek bed winding all through it. At some points the creek bed was 8-10 ft across and one side was 5 ft higher than the other. We'd take turns playing follow the leader across the fields and riding IN the creek beds making twists and turns. When I followed Dad it turned into a life and death struggle for me. With the tall brush and the height of my bike I sometimes couldn't see where we were heading, but I just followed Dad. All of a sudden I'd see his front wheel pop up and his bike soar across open air. (His bike was a proper dirt bike with plenty of power and a great suspension, mine was 20 yrs old and made for street and off-road use) He was jumping across the creek bed from the high side to the low side. I'd have no choice but to follow. By the time I saw what I was about to jump across there was no stopping. I'd pin the throttle and pull up, hoping to make it to the other side. Most the time I did. I'd almost always catch a little of my back wheel and a couple times I caught a whole lot of it and would slam into the handle bars.

Sometimes we'd switch bikes and he'd let me ride his big bike. If I ever stalled it I'd have to jump off so it wouldn't fall, try and kick start it, or find a hill to coast it down, climb on while it was rolling and pop start it. I was still pretty young and hadn't gotten tall yet.

The best part (that didn't involve me wondering if I'd make it to the other side of a gap) was when we'd be riding along and a jack rabbit would jump out, that we had startled, and start running at full speed. Instantly Dad would start chasing it and I'd start chasing him and he'd try and keep up with it as it turned and tried to get away from us! Eventually it'd make too quick a turn and we couldn't keep up. That was fun.

None of my brothers and sisters have this memory. Dad and I went riding a lot by ourselves, just he and I. And they all have individual memories too that i don't have. Jenny had a horse, Wendy traveled in Russia with him, Doug ported and polished heads with him, etc, etc. No one has the same exact stories to tell... but everyone got the same treatment.

And that was really damn impressive, to take time and make individual memories with 7 kids. If he hadn't been such a great Dad this wouldn't have happened.

I miss you, Dad. I love you.

- Goose

Three words

Tough Kitty Lovin’

 

Rebecca Tovey

 

Denny's first encounter with a lie

Denny had only been in the first grade for a short time, yet he was already walking home from school alone. On this occasion we had told Denny to wait for us outside the fence and we would pick him up. We had an old green Cadillac four door sedan. We were a few minutes late and when we stopped Denny got into the car. He asked, "Why did you pass me up before?" We said that we had not passed him up. We were just getting here. He said, "No! I saw the car and you just drove by and didn't pick me up." The conversation went back and forth several times. We could not convince Denny that we had not driven by before and that this was the first time and obviously we did stop. He just wasn't buying it. Finally in desperation I asked him, "Denny, have we ever lied to you?"  By this time there were tears welling up in his eyes and his lower lip was hanging out a little bit when he said, "No. This is the very first time".

I have always treasured this memory

Papa

Hard Dad day today

I am really having a hard Dad day today.  On the verge of tears at any moment.  I cried all the way to work today.  I think it might be because with all of the preparation for Mothers Day, it only reminds me that Fathers Day is just around the corner. This will be my first Father's Day without my Dad.  My sadness is now turning into regret.  Regret about not being a better daughter. Regret about not sending him a gift every year or a very thoughtful one.  When I would send him a gift, I loved to send him all his favorite treats for Fathers Day. He especially loved when I would send him a homemade card.  He would rave about it every time we talked.  I sure wish I could give him one more Father's Day gift.  One more homemade card. One more "I love you and thank you for being my Dad". One more hug.

I really miss him today!!  I am so grateful he was my Dad.  He was so fun and very insightful.  I wish I could call him and asked him what he would do to cope with all of this pain of loosing a parent.  He always knew the right thing to say.  He has gotten me through some really tough times that no one else was able to.  How will I ever cope with out him? 

I love you Dad!! 

~ Nancy ~

Hauntings

Denny always said that the house was haunted.  He said that occasionally he would wake up when a “cat” jumped on the bed knowing that the cat had died.  Or that the cat – in this case Gordy, would scratch his head and shake the bed.  Then one night after his mom’s death he told me someone strummed the strings on his banjo.  He thought that his mom had done that.  Well about a week ago I was awakened by the guitar early in the morning.  It went “ping” and I just lay there for a few minutes trying to decide what just happened.  Then I thought “Denny is here!” and fell back to sleep happy.  In the morning I looked at the guitar and noticed one string was loose.  It wasn’t broken just loose.  Yes, he was here….

Rebecca Tovey