Back when I was first married and getting to know my husband's family, Trivial Pursuit was the game to play. Remember that game? Good for dorks and didacts; it was prime time for me them. Then the Internet came along and blitzed away the sparsely populated dork pastime landscape, replacing it with a limitless horizon of possibilities. But this was back in the 80s. Trivial Pursuit in the blue box--I think we still have it. Anyway, we were visiting my husband's folks in Knoxville, probably over a holiday since lots of the family was there. Danny (my husband's stepbrother) brought his two kids, Angie and Clint. I know others were there as well. Possibly Uncle Steve and his family, maybe Aunt Trish and hers. The house was full. Angie and Clint were teenagers, and I think I had probably just left those years behind at that point. We decided to play Trivial Pursuit at the kitchen table. It was me, Angie, Clint, and probably my husband. We were getting into the game, and at one point I think I let slip either a "damn" or an "ass." Danny happened to have just walked into the kitchen and caught it.
First, you have to understand that Danny was a physical presence. I don't know exactly how tall he was, but he had to be 6'5" or 6'6". And not an anemic, Ichabod Crane 6'5". No, he was a Paul Bunyan, gigantic, imposing 6'5". I'm sure where he went, crowds parted to admit the force of nature he just naturally was. I don't actually think I've ever known anyone as large as Danny, come to think of it. Anyway, Danny happened to catch my mild curse. That's when all hell broke loose. Oh, he yelled. "Don't cuss in front of my kids. You should be setting a better example. I can't believe you." On and on. We were all sort of stunned silent and the game was frozen in time to accommodate the eruption of Volcano Danny. He must have gone on for 20 or 30 seconds, which is forever when you're trapped in a smallish kitchen with a largish man whose "quiet voice" could be heard anywhere in the house. Not subscribing to the "ladies don't cuss" philosophy so prevalent in Southern culture, I pretty much would have just told him to get over himself but for the ferocity of his protest. Instead, I think I just sort of gaped at him until he finished his rant.
Not five seconds after he stopped railing at me for my mild curse in front of his children, his son said or did something that Danny didn't like. He walked over to him, sort of cuffed the top of Clint's head to get his attention, and said, "Clint, I told you to knock that shit off. What the hell is wrong with you, boy?"
And he had no idea why it was so funny. None.
That's when I knew for sure I really liked Danny.
Danny, when I first met him and for several years after, was quite a ladies' man. He had some sort of mysterious job the first time I met him--either he was a bouncer somewhere (how lucky were those people to have a giant watching over their interests), or that's just what somebody told me. Whatever he did, he seemed to come in contact with quite a variety of ladies. Once in a while he would bring one to meet my inlaws. That phase of his life went on for a while, and then he met Sandra. Shortly after that, Danny changed. He got involved in church and really had a spiritual awakening. He left his old life behind and embraced his new life, one with God and perhaps more traditional values than he had enjoyed in the past.
After a while, Danny got his commercial driver's license, and he began to drive tractor trailers. That's when he would call the house with fairly decent regularity. He would be out on the road and get bored, I guess, and would call us. Because I am usually home most of the time, he usually got me instead of my husband. I think that's what he wanted, though. For some reason, he had decided that I was okay. With our newly shared political views, he loved to call and talk about Presidential politics, or the state of the world. I tried not to let on that I actually was perhaps not quite as conservative as Danny assumed I was. He apparently knew that I have been a lifelong Republican and as a fairly recent convert, he must have just assumed that I swallow the party line, hook, line and sinker. He was so enthusiastic about his political convictions that it seemed the easiest route to just let him continue thinking that I was a little more right than I really am. Plus, it was more fun that way. Danny on a political rant was quite entertaining. Even when he was railing about some injustice or failing of the system, he was somehow optimistic and cheerful. Try pulling that off sometime--it's harder than it sounds. But he did it pretty much every time we talked.
Danny also loved to talk about our family and our girls. He just thought our girls were terrific. He told me all the time what a great job we were doing with them, and how proud he was of us. That was so touching and sweet. Half the time he would tell me this, I would be in the middle of some preteen or teen drama and would think, "Oh man, if he only knew." But looking back with a bit fuller perspective, I think he probably did know, and it didn't affect his opinion. It's not that he thought we were perfect; he just really dug that we were together and at least somewhat approximating a sort of nuclear, if quirky, family. The girls just loved him, too. "Uncle Danny? Uncle Danny!!!" They would occasionally take the phone and talk his ear off. He loved that.
One of the last times we saw Danny was at my husband's grandmother's funeral. He was having some problems with his knee, and when we got to the funeral home, he was standing in the vestibule, away from everyone else. We had quite a nice little talk. It was very "Danny" that he took the time to support Peggy (my mother-in-law) and honor Lil (her mother). Family was so important to him.
He used to talk about his family when he would call me from the road. He told me how much he loved Sandra, his wife. He really adored her and was so happy they found each other. He told me that a lot. It was very sweet to see him find such happiness at that stage of his life. He also loved his job. He thought it was great that they let him drive a truck with a cool bed in the back and lots of creature comforts, and paid and respected him for the privilege. We talked about that sometimes, too.
Even though Danny was not in the best of health, it still came as quite a shock when my husband called to tell me they found him in his truck a few weeks back. My first thought was that he died alone and I found this very hard to deal with. As it turned out, he died in his sleep, all tucked into the truck he liked so much. That sort of helped with the alone part. I also couldn't help but think that he would not have been too happy with the outcome of the election and I would have gotten a phone call before too long. I'm so sorry that call will never come.
Among all the other larger-than-life things Danny was, he was also a Vietnam Veteran. I do not think we ever talked about that, not even one time. I'm sorry about that, too. On the other hand, if Danny had wanted to talk about being in the Army, he would have, so that's probably as it should be.
I just thought I would share a bit of reflection about Danny. I will miss him. If you knew him, you will too. If you didn't, you really missed something.
