StanleyWheeler

A fellow traveler pulled his RV into the last rest stop along his life's highway this week. The RV will go into temporary storage beneath the sod while the traveler himself rests a bit and takes on some new assignments before eventually reuniting with his RV in its new and glorious state on the eternal highway of bliss. I can offer no fitting tribute, but I have many pleasant memories of Don.

He was a man of order as far as his own house and shop went. He worked hard. He also had fun. He and his bride spent many years working and socializing with my parents. We were neighbors in the best sort of way. It seemed that for years hardly a day went by when we weren't at their house or they were at ours. As I got older and spent more time away, it would be even money as to whether Don and his wife were at our house or whether my folks were at Don's place when I got home. Although memory has dimmed with time, besides his helpful and friendly nature, I best remember Don's stature, voice, and arms. He was not a tall man. I didn't realize that until I was an adult--I was rather on the small side as a kid. I think he was my dad's size, but for years he seemed bigger to me--I guess the fact that he was bigger on the inside than he was on the outside made him seem much bigger in my eyes. He voice was unique in my experience. He didn't possess a particularly deep voice, but it sounded like it came up from someplace deep--like a gurgling brook echoing up through a cleft of rock. I remember his forearms. He had forearms to rival Popeye. In fact, with his large forearms and close-cropped hair, he reminded me of a sailor looking for a fight. I know those arms came in handy for hauling hay and doing carpentry and finish work. I don't know whether he ever had to use them to fight.

Of course, those physical characteristics pale in comparison to his good nature and willing attitude. I can't think of a single time when I called on him for assistance or to borrow a tool or piece of equipment when he wasn't willing to help. He and my dad spent a lot of time working together and helping each other out. If they weren't working, they were talking about working--except for when they were playing cards or doing fun things outdoors with the families and with the other Don, that man of steel who also passed away this year.

Time rushes on; extended families and other responsibilities eventually stretched the close ties that we had once enjoyed. The bonds of friendship remained, but the time we were able to spend together dwindled away like dandelion seeds in the breeze. The seeds are all gone now and time rushes on relentlessly. Fortunately, old friends don't pass away; they're merely blown into the future on separate winds to that happy reunion where all breezes converge beside cool waters, sun-kissed and still.