Posted by
William D. Dannenmaier on Saturday, December 11, 2010 5:10:14 PM
Thanksgiving weekend was, I hope, the capstone of a difficult two months for us. My sister, Ethel’s, funeral was scheduled for the Friday following Thanksgiving Day, so Sheila and I made arrangements to drive to Decatur that Thanksgiving Day. Andrew and Megaera accompanied us. Corie Stewart volunteered to stay in the house while we were gone and care for our pets. My son Bill, who wished to come, but couldn’t, made all arrangements for us to stay in Decatur including paying our hotel bills, which was extremely helpful. We planned the 380 mile drive on Thursday, the funeral on Friday and the return drive on Saturday. Before we left, however, we received the terrible news that our friend, Bob Connor, had been found dead and that his funeral would be on Saturday. I intended to attend Bob’s funeral, and did, Andrew and I sharing the driving and returning Friday night. It was not a good weekend, two people whom I loved were gone – permanently except for the friendships and memories they left.
In a previous blog I wrote of Ethel, I won’t repeat that now, but I’ve never spoken of Bob, and now I shall.
In my sixty years of adulthood, working and living in five states, three provinces of Canada, Korea and Germany, I have enjoyed meeting and knowing many people. I recall many friendships during that time and believe that if I should have occasion or opportunity to visit those persons again I should find those friendships still in existence. Most people, including my friends and family, have faults, flaws in character if you will, which one accepts as a minor matter in an otherwise good person. Very few of the people I have known have been completely, without reservation, honest in their conversations and dealings. That is where Bob Connor was different. During the seventeen years I have known him, I have never known Bob to be other than completely honest and trustworthy. There are very few such people. Bob had another quality: a quiet one. Anyone who needed assistance, or any organization, could count on Bob for assistance.
I first met Bob the December following my retirement. Retired, like me, Bob, his bride Kathy, and I and my family were both attending the combined community Christmas service at the little MethodistChurch next door to me. Bob, tall and lanky in his overalls and old hat, had a long white beard. My four year old daughter, Megaera, took one look at him and shouted, “Santa Claus!”
From then on, for the next several years, whenever Megaera spotted Bob, she was right under his feet, staring up at him with a smile: that was true at church and also true at the CumberlandFurnaceCommunity Center meetings and events which Bob and I attended routinely. Bob clearly enjoyed his status in her eyes.
In those early days of the Center, there were months when our monthly breakfasts and semi-annual open pit barbecues did not bring in sufficient money to cover mortgage payments and routine bills such as electricity and water. Bob was one of two men who could be counted on to write a check for a few hundred dollars to keep our Center going. Very few people were aware of those contributions: neither man broadcast their assistance. My awareness of it came from serving as secretary to the organization.
Now Bob is gone. (Actually both of those contributors are deceased.) His death was a surprise to all of us. He had told Kathy he had some work to do and drove away from the house. When he did not return when she expected, Kathy became worried and called for help. The response in our sparse community would have surprised many outsiders and shocked those government people who believe we ignorant and incompetent hill people cannot and do not care for one another. Everyone knew Bob and everyone respected and loved Bob. Bob was found, dead, lying next to his riding mower, his tools by his side.
I have had other friends who quietly died after sitting down to “rest a bit” while engaged in some bit of labor on the land they loved. That is the way Earl Leach left this life. Similarly, Sank Daniels was found sitting in his truck in one of his fields. Now Bob has gone. For them, it was a wonderful death: rest from labor they loved. When my time comes, I would like to go that way rather than struggling in ignorance and pain in some hospital room. But for those who love them it must be extremely difficult.
I know that Bob’s unexpected death is hard for Kathy. She will need our help, but she will get all the community can give her. It will be a small repayment of the love that Bob gave to all of us over the years.