Denny was born in 1942 at the Clark County Hospital in Las Vegas, Nevada. He was a Down Syndrome baby. Back then little was known about Down Syndrome. Most of the time babies with Down's were labeled "retarded" or "Mongoloid". A Down's baby was considered untrainable, a freak of nature to be feared because they were different. They even looked different with slanted eyes, round faces, slack jaws and vacant stares in their eyes. Their life expectancy was early teens.

The doctor who delivered Denny broke the news to Mom and Dad as gently and sympathetically as he could. He must have had a deep faith in God because he told them that their baby was a "Special" child and they had been chosen by God to care for him. He told them that Denny would need a lot of love and care for the rest of his life and they were to be the care givers of this "Special Gift" from God. Our parents vowed to do the best they could for him as long as he lived and they upheld that vow.

Denny was raised just like the other three of us. He was given no special treatment, or babied, pitied or spoiled. When he was naughty he was scolded or spanked as the situation called for. He learned to share his toys and pick up after himself and play nice.

He was a chubby little guy with a happy, bubbling personality and he got into his share of mischief. Joe was seven and Laura was five when Denny was born so they can remember watching Denny for Mom and playing with him when he was a baby. I was not quite two so I don't remember him as a baby. Like all big brothers and sisters we became playmates, while Joe and Laura became our teachers, guides, and protectors.

I don't know when I became aware that Denny was different. Probably when he didn't start to school at age six like the rest of us had to; or maybe when classmates would come home to play with me after school and ask what was "wrong" with my little brother. I didn't know there was anything "wrong" with him; he just didn't know how to play jacks, skip rope or ride bicycles like we did, but there wasn't anything "wrong" with him. We were all proud of our baby brother and I guess we didn't realize that although he grew physically, his mind stayed child-like.

He learned to walk and feed himself and pick up his toys like most kids do, but he was not very well coordinated and when he started talking his speech was very garbled. Some words he could say real well but others were very hard to make out. It was as if he had his own language and he knew exactly what he was saying , even if the rest of us didn�t. He would often say a new word and it would be a big guessing game to figure out what it meant. Most of the time we were successful in figuring out what he was trying to say, but once in awhile he would say a word that we never did make out and remains a mystery to this day. When that happened, Denny would just quit saying it.

Mom and Dad bought him a big chief tablet like the rest of us used in school. He would scribble on it like he was doing his homework like we did. We tried to teach him the alphabet and how to print our names, but all he could master was his name. He could say the alphabet through "E" before it became jumbled up and he could count to 6 before he started skipping numbers. As he got older the greatest amount he could imagine was 200. If he had a few dollars in his wallet he would say, "I'm rich, I've got 200 bucks", or a mileage marker would read "200 miles" to the next town; and a really overweight person weighed "200 pounds.

In 1949 we moved to Jal, New Mexico, a small oil field town of about 8,000. Jal was a close knit community where everyone knew their neighbor and helped each other when a need arose. The people were friendly and accepted newcomers as part of the community without reservation.

Dad worked on a pipeline for El Paso Natural Gas Company and was gone for months at a time. Mother never learned to drive so we walked wherever we needed to go. After supper every night we would go walking around the neighborhood. Other families would be out walking or sitting on the porch or in the yard and it didn't take long to get to know everyone in town.

Denny was accepted by the townspeople just like the rest of us were. He could tell those who liked him and he would smile and talk to them, but he would shy away from those who were curious about him or afraid of him. He would hide behind Mother's skirt and not say a word. He could always tell the difference in the way people acted around him. As time went on he was accepted by most of them as the sweet little boy he was.

Denny and I were' buddies and he went with me everywhere except to school. People got used to seeing us together so much that if I was alone, they would stop me on the street and ask where Denny was or how he was. It was a good place to grow up in because the people cared.

Mother kept a close watch on all of us but particularly of Denny. He was very seldom out of our sight but once in awhile he would run off. On day he disappeared and we were frantic looking for him all over the neighborhood. Neighbors joined the search and we scoured every place we thought he might be. Finally someone drove up and reported seeing Denny at Alexander's Grocery store by himself. Mom sent me after him and when I got there he was happily pushing a grocery cart through the store full of cartons of ice cream. I finally convinced him that one half-gallon would be enough and he paid for it with a few pennies he had in his pocket. The grocer never let on that the price was higher than what he paid and he was so proud of himself because he had bought his own groceries by himself. After I took him home, Mom sent me back to the store to pay the balance on the ice cream.

In the 1950's schools for the retarded started being built and well-meaning social workers tried to get our parents to send Denny off to Albuquerque or El Paso to learn a vocation. Their argument was that he needed to learn to support himself so that the other three siblings would not have to bear the burden of taking care of him when Mother and Dad died.

Our doctors advised against sending Denny away. They said he had been loved and nurtured in a family atmosphere all his life and if he were sent away he would feel abandoned and would die of a broken heart in a few months.

What the social workers didn't realize was that we loved Denny and would have fought for the privilege of taking care of him! In fact, Laura and I used to lay in bed at night and plan on what we would do if something happened to Mom and Dad. We were going to run off in the middle of the night and take Denny with us and go back to Las Vegas to live with Aunt Gertie (Mom's sister) and Uncle Byron. We knew they would take care of us all.

Denny loved to go to the movies and see the cowboy shows. His heroes were Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, the Lone Ranger and Tonto, etc. This was before we had a TV so every Saturday we went to the movies.

One Saturday Laura, Denny and I were walking home from the movie and ran into James, the town bully. We had stopped at Curtiss' Newsstand and bought Denny a lime sherbet ice cream cone. Denny was walking between us eating his "geen cone" when James came toward us riding his bicycle. As he approached he said, "I'm going to run over that little crazy boy" Before we knew what was happening, he had actually run over Denny on his bike. Denny was knocked down on the sidewalk with James and the bike on top of him and his ice cream cone ended up on the curb covered with dirt. Laura and I jerked James up off Denny and beat him with our fists. After the thumping we made him apologize to Denny and then we marched him back to the newsstand and made him buy Denny another ice cream cone. From then on when James saw us coming he would cross the street or go around the block rather than face the wrath of the Slate sisters again. When we got home and told Mother about the incident she said we should be ashamed of ourselves, but we weren't.

Joe went into the Army in 1952 and Laura married in 1954 and moved to Dallas. Denny and I became even closer after they left. He was like my shadow and I never went anywhere without him. If I was invited to a birthday party, I wouldn't go unless Denny could go, too. If I went skating at the park, Denny sat on the side and watched; and we went to a million movies.

When I was in Junior High School the Woods and the Wilkersons moved to Jal and took over the management of the theater downtown and the new drive-in theater. The first time I took Denny to the movie after they took over, Mrs. Wilkerson stopped me at the ticket booth and told me that as long as they managed the theaters Denny would not pay to see a movie. (I, also got in free until I started dating.) These dear people could have made a lot of money from us because we went to the movie every time it changed which was 3 or 4 times a week but they choose to be charitable and compassionate to one less fortunate than themselves. I am truly grateful to them. It may have been a small gesture to them but to Denny it was a big thing because movies were his only recreation. God often blesses us with people like Mr. and Mrs. Woods and Mr. and Mrs. Wilkerson and I know they will be rewarded for their thoughtfulness and generosity.

When I was a Freshman in High School, we moved across town to a new house. Dad built a cinder block fence around the yard about 4 foot high because the yard was subject to flooding when it rained. That fence became Denny's horse. He would put on his cowboy hat, toy gun and holster and ride the fence for hours. Sometime he took his guitar with him and sang as he rode. He must have rounded up thousands of herds of cattle on his cinder block horse.

If he wasn't out riding the fence, he was sitting on "his" end of the couch in front of the TV, with his Big Chief tablet in his lap writing. His imagination took him to worlds the rest of us could only see on the TV screen. If he was watching a cops and robbers show he put on his badge, handcuffs and policeman's hat; If it was a war movie, he put on his army hat and medals, and saluted his superior officers in the show. He kept up a running dialog with the screen actors as if he were in the movie. He was always the leading man, the good guy, or the hero. He knew the good guys from the bad guys and cheered when the bad guy got what was coming to him. If he and Dad were watching a football game he would always bet on the winning team. Sometimes the game would nearly be over before he decided which team was his, but it was always the winning team.

As he was watching TV he would be writing on his Big Chief tablet. I guess he was writing down everything that was said or done in every program. He not only recorded TV shows but events that happened during the day. If we went to town or to Kermit or to visit a neighbor, as soon as we got home he would grab his tablet and pencil and start writing. He probably wrote down who he had seen, what he had done, and what was said by everyone.

Mom and Dad must have spent a fortune on Big Chief tablets. Every Saturday when they went to the grocery store they would buy two, and if those were written up before the next Saturday they would buy another one.

Denny was left handed and he wrote from the right side of the page to the left side in a rolling, wavy scribble. He stayed neatly on the line all the way across the page. Every line was filled in with no periods, commas or breaks in the line. Mom called it "hen scratching" and to anyone else that's what it looked like, but not to Denny. Even though every line on every page was identical, Denny knew what was on every page. If you asked him about something that was said or done a day or two before, he would thumb through the finished pages as if to refresh his memory, then he would answer your question. Most of the time he had the right answer. When one page was finished he would carefully tear it out and put it in a stack on the table beside him. At bedtime, he would take his stacks of papers to his room and put them in his closet or in his dresser drawer.

Once when I was in high school I thought I would try to teach him to write simple words like "Mom, Dad, Sue and Denny". We practiced for days and he could do real well as long as the words were in front of him, but when I tried to get him to do them from memory he just couldn't. I had been pushing him pretty hard and he was getting tired and disgusted with himself because he was wanted to learn so much. He finally put down his pencil and looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, "What's wong with me, Sue? Am I crazy?" It nearly broke my heart. I guess that is when I realized that he knew he was different from other people. I put my arms around him and said, "No, Denny, you're not crazy, you're just special". I told him how God had made him "Special" because He loved him so much and he didn't have to know how to read or write because we all loved him just the way he was. That was enough for him. He finally learned to write his name and he would proudly display it on Birthday cards and Christmas cards the rest of his life. He would sit down and say, "E, 0, D, N, Y - DENNY", as he labored over his signature.

It took very little to make Denny happy and he appreciated any thing you gave him. He would thank you over and over for a toy, or a candy bar, or milk shake. He would act like you had given him a million dollars regardless of the gift. When we would ask him what he wanted for his birthday or Christmas he always said, "Big Chiefs and pencils, or socks and underwear". It didn't matter what you gave him, he would say, "Gee, tanks (thanks), just what I need!" He always got a supply of Big Chief tablets and pencils and nothing pleased him more. Uncle Oran, Byron, Clell and Wayne would always send him a dollar bill in his card or in a letter to Mom and he was thrilled over that because he could buy more Big Chiefs!

Denny had a strong inner sense of right and wrong and like a typical little brother he would let Mom know when the rest of us did something wrong. He may not have known the words to say but he could pantomime real well and make himself understood. One time Laura had been told that she couldn't go swimming with her friends in a cow tank. Mother let her and Denny go along for the ride but told her specifically not to go in the water. When they got home, Mom asked her if she went swimming and she said, "No, I just put my feet in the water". Then Mom asked Denny the same question and he said, "Yes, like this"; then he held his nose between his thumb and finger of one hand and made diving motions with the other. Mother asked if Evelyn and Margie were swimming and Denny said, "Yes, and Laura Ann, too".

After returning from our honeymoon trip our apartment wasn't quite ready for occupancy so my first. husband and I stayed at Mom and Dad's in my old room. As we got ready for bed the first night home Denny threw a fit. He wouldn't turn out the light and kept calling for Mother to come to our room. When she finally came to see what the fuss was about, he pointed to Chuck and me in bed and said, "Look at them, that's not right". After the chuckles Mom explained that we were married and it was okay for us to be in bed together.

When President Kennedy was killed Denny was as upset as the rest of the nation. He wouldn't eat and wouldn't move from in front of the TV. He mourned for the slain President as if he had known him personally. He asked, "Why did they do that, Sue. He was a good man?" He knew nothing about politics but he knew this was an important person who commanded respect and reverence. He cried for Mrs. Kennedy and the children. He said, "Poor kids, their daddy is gone". On Sunday when Mother and I came home from church Denny ran out of the house and met us at the gate all excited and clapping his hands. He told us, "They shot Oswald, he's dead". To Denny, justice had been served; the tragedy of Kennedy's death had been revenged and a wrong had been righted. All of this was recorded on his Big Chief tablet.

Daddy and Denny were very close buddies and were always together except when Dad was at work. They teased each other and called each other "old man" because both of them were gray headed. Daddy treated Denny as his equal; asked his opinion of things, and discussed days events and argued over ball games. He was patient and gentle with Denny and if he ever had to spank him or correct him, he would leave the room later so we wouldn't see the tears in his eyes. Dad died of a heart attack in 1968 at the age of 58. Denny was the one who comforted the rest of us. He would tell us, "the old man's gone but it's all right; He's with God". Then he would pray, "Dear God, take care of the old man--He was a good man, a good dad."

After Dad died Mom and Denny moved back to Las Vegas. All Mom's brothers and sisters lived there and she wanted to be close to them. They all loved Denny and spoiled him rotten. Uncle Byron became his surrogate father, taking him to get haircuts and shoe shines like Dad did. Uncle Wayne would bring him a case of Dr. Peppers from the PX, Uncle Clell and Oran would take Mom and Denny to the grocery store or doctor or run errands for them. They had a lot of family gatherings and Denny was always the center of attention. Denny didn't have his fence to ride there so he spent more time writing.

Sometimes he wouldn't come to the table to eat because he didn't want to interrupt his writing. Often Mother would get up in the middle of the night and he would be at his desk writing. When my children were little they could play with any of Denny's toys or books or games in his room but were not allowed to touch his papers. They soon learned that Uncle Denny's papers were special. When we would ask him what he was writing he would say, "Oh, you know", but we never did.

Denny was tender hearted and compassionate to those less fortunate. He would save all his change during the year and donate to Jerry's Kids during the Labor Day Telethon. One year Aunt Bonnie was Chairman for the March of Dimes in Las Vegas and Denny went to the headquarters with her and licked envelopes and stamps and worked like a Trojan for the cripple children. He would look at the poster child and say, "Oh, that hurts my heart." He wanted to help them so much.

In 1977 we moved Mom and Denny to Odessa, Texas where I lived. Denny had started having health problems and we felt it would be better to have them close to one of us kids. The folks in Vegas had been so good to take care of them for nearly 10 years but we thought it was time for us to look after them. Laura lived at Lake Tawakoni east of Dallas and Joe lived in Alaska. The doctors thought the weather in Alaska would be too cold for Denny and it was too far to a doctor where Laura lived so we thought Odessa was the best place for them. I wasn't working and had time to spend with them taking care of their needs.

Mom bought Denny a big writing desk and a TV for his room so the living room would not be so cluttered with his papers. He had stacks and stacks of torn out sheets of Big Chief tablets in his room. His filing cabinet was full, four or five briefcases stacked in his closet floor full, the blanket shelf in his closet stacked full, the floor under his desk was covered with stacks, and he would have three or four stacks on his desk. He would leave just enough room on top of his desk for the tablet his was writing on at the time.

Mother was very patient with the piles of pages stacked up in his room but once in awhile she would try to get him to throw some of them away. Of course, he refused so she would wait until he was occupied somewhere else in the house then she would sneak some of the stacks out to the dumpster. When he returned to his room he could tell that some of his papers were gone even if she took them out of the middle of a stack. He would mumble under his breath and march out to the dumpster and retrieve his papers. He would tell her to "leave his "gunk" (junk) alone!"

We finally started telling him that we wouldn't buy any new Big Chief Tablets until he got rid of some of the old ones because his room couldn't hold anymore. He would gather up several stacks of papers and take them out to the trash, tickled to death because he was going to get some new ones.

Denny took pride in his appearance. He would get dressed in the morning before he went to the table for breakfast. He kept his shirttail tucked in with his belt on, his socks matched and his shoe laces tied neatly. He wore a suit and tie to church every Sunday with a handkerchief neatly tucked into his' breast pocket. On special occasions, he had to have a boutonniere on his lapel. He wore his hair cut in a flattop and every two weeks he would tell Mom, "time for a flattop". He would have his shoes shined when he went to the barbershop so they would look nice. If he saw someone dressed sloppily or needing a haircut he would say they looked like a "bomb" (bum). He favored blue shirts and socks to match "these blue eyes of mine.

He was very meticulous about things. Every thing had a place and it really irritated him if things got out of place. Every ashtray had to be in a certain spot on the coffee table, every crocheted doily had to be straight, the afghan had to be centered just right on the back of the couch and every rug had to be squared and unwrinkled in front of the chairs. When he sat the table, the silverware had to be placed perfectly on each side of the plate and you didn't dare sit at a place at the table that he had designated to someone else. Every morning the drapes were opened as soon as he got dressed and were closed every evening at dusk. At night he would undress, fold his dirty clothes in a neat stack, roll his socks together and put them on a chair beside his bed, put his belt on the dresser and his shoes at the side of the bed. He would go through this routine every night before he turned out the light and got into bed. He made his bed every morning and most of the time he would make Mother's while she was cleaning up the breakfast dishes. At night, he would turn the sheets down on the beds before bedtime. If they had guests the bed in the spare bedroom was prepared also. He didn't just turn down the sheets though, he would roll the top sheet and blanket down to the foot of the bed in a tight roll. When you got in bed you had to spend several minutes unrolling the covers up to your shoulders.

When we bought groceries he always wanted to put them away because he didn't want anyone messing up his cabinets. He would put the canned goods on the shelf according to color and type. Green vegetables like peas, string beans, spinach etc. were grouped together; corn, squash and other yellow vegetables were stacked in twos together; soups and canned meats were grouped in their place. He would never put a can of green beans on a can of peas. If he didn't have two to put together, the odd one was left by itself. One shelf held peanut butter, syrup, honey; another shelf was strictly for boxed goods like cereal, rice, macaroni and cheese and the like while still another shelf held spices and flavorings and baking products. He would get real aggravated if someone put something in the wrong place. Everything had to be neat and orderly. Mother could look in her cabinets and at a glance tell what was needed the next shopping trip.

Although Denny couldn't tell time he had a built in time clock. He knew what time each of his favorite shows came on TV, knew when it was Saturday when he watched cartoons or at 10:00 am when wrestling came on. If we were at the grocery store he would start fussing for us to 'hurry because he was missing his show' and sure enough, if we checked our watch it would be 10:00 o'clock.

He also knew the time of year when it was getting close to his birthday. He would usually start in June singing, "Happy Birthday to me", every time you saw him. He would say, "Nearly my butday (birthday). Are you going to come?" He would not let us forget and sometimes nearly drove us crazy with his reminders. About a week before his birthday he would tell us what kind of cake and ice cream he wanted and what kind of gifts! Usually it was white or lemon cake with blue flowers (to match his eyes) and green (lime) or "emon" (lemon) ice cream. If we made homemade ice cream it had to be "emon".

Denny was very comical and liked to show off. If we asked him if he could speak Spanish he would say, "Taco, Burrito, Enchilada". Every finger was called "turn" (thumb), every gender was "him", and every direction was 'tright". He could direct us anywhere we wanted to go in town but he would point left if we needed to turn left but say, "turn right". We could park in a huge parking lot with a sea of vehicles and when we came out of the store or mall Denny would duck his head to watch his feet and lead us straight to our car without ever looking up. His sense of direction was phenomenal.

Denny had a language all his own. It was unique and sometimes funny. I am sure to him it was frustrating when we didn't understand him because he thought he was saying words just like we did. Up was "ump", dog was "gog", and chicken was "kicken". One of his favorite meals was "kicken gummins" (chicken and dumplings).

God gave Denny a high tolerance for pain and at times when we knew he was in pain he would say it hurt just a "lila bit". He sure didn't like to get shots though. He called the needles "pins" and he would say, "No more pins". In 1977, he had major surgery for an esophageal web which closed off his esophagus and he couldn't get food or liquid down. He was cut from his chest bone past his navel and from the middle of his chest around to the middle of his back. The surgeon deflated his lung, cut 3" off his esophagus and moved his stomach up between his ribs. He was in ICU after surgery and we worried that the nurses wouldn't be able to understand him if he needed something. Fortunately, the head nurse was a neighbor of Mom and Denny's and she was familiar with him and had no trouble understanding him. She said the first evening after his surgery that morning he got restless and she asked him if he was in pain. When he told her "a lila bit" she gave him a shot to ease the pain. The next time he got restless, she asked him again if he was in pain and he replied, "no, no pain; no shot, no pins." The next morning they moved him to a private room. The nurses in ICU were amazed that he had only one shot for pain after being cut from stem to stern.

It was real funny when they moved him to a private room. When we first admitted him for tests before surgery he was on the diagnostic floor and his room was painted blue with blue drapes which he liked. We told him in ICU that we could be with him more when they moved him back to his room. Little did we know that he would be put on the surgical floor instead of where he was at first, and this room was painted yellow and orange with orange drapes. We went in to see him as soon he was settled in and he was furious, his eyes were throwing sparks almost. When we asked him what was wrong he said, "wong woom - my woom is blue like these eyes of mine"! We had to laugh at him but to him it was a very serious mistake.

After his surgery he would have his throat and esophagus stretched to keep scar tissue from forming. Dr. Morales was kind and gentle with Denny but the treatment was awful. Rubber tubes were inserted in his mouth and down into his stomach. They were of various sizes in circumference and about 3 feet in length. The procedure was started with the smallest working up to the largest size, usually 4 or 5 each time. Denny would throw his head back and swallow the tube a little at a time until it was in his stomach then it was pulled back up and a larger one inserted. Denny was real patient through the first 3 or 4 then he would balk and tell Dr. Morales, "no more". Dr. Morales would coax and cajole until Denny would agree to "just one more", and they would start again. Sometimes they would go through the "just one more" routine 2 or 3 times until the treatment was finished. Dr. Morales would always tell Denny that he had done a good job and Denny would say, "Tanks, but no more", but he would always go back when it was necessary.

Denny was much braver than I was and he had a lot of courage. I couldn't even stay in the treatment room while he was having the treatment because it would gag me to watch him. I would stand outside the treatment room door and listen to him gag and choke and beg "no more" and I would cry. When he came out of the room, Denny would always put him arm around me and pat me on the shoulder and say, "It's awight, Sue".

He was also very generous with his money. Mom would give him a dollar to put in his offering envelope at church and he would give an additional one from his wallet. He would have given it all if we would have let him. He would always tell us he was going to "buy you a mink coat" or a "gimon (diamond) ring". But if you made him mad or displeased him in some way it was, "no mink coat-no gimon ring for you.

Denny had a special relationship with God. He knew that God was the Supreme Being and He could take care of anything. Denny approached the Throne of Grace boldly through his prayers. He was afraid of thunder and lightning and when it stormed he would stand at the window and say, "God, make it stop - it scares me". If it continued for very long he would say, "Now, God, I told you, make it stop". When it stopped Denny would say it was because he "talked to God". You know, God made us a lot of promises in the Bible and too many times we hesitate to remind Him of those promises but not Denny. God promised to take care of us and Denny claimed that promise often. I am sure the Lord would smile every time it rained in our area because He knew He would be hearing from Denny. If Denny was confused about something he would always say, "Oh, God, what do I do?" I think God gave Denny an understanding about many things that we didn't teach him and when we would ask him how he knew about something he would say, "God tole me!"

We would tease him and tell him he was a turkey and he would reply, "No, ham." He really was a ham!. If you were teasing him he'd say you were "pulling my feet" (leg).

Denny was always complimentary to others. He made you feel good about yourself just being around him. If you were dressed nice or had your hair done he would say, "Cute you". If it were a man or boy he would just say, "Nice." Regardless of the task you were doing, or sport you were playing he would always tell you, "Good job". It became the by-word in our family to let others know you were proud of them. It seemed to sum up all emotions in one short phrase - "Good Job!"

Many times when I would see people staring at Denny, I would walk over and introduce him to them. I wanted them to see that he was not a freak in a side show to be stared at and made fun of but a person with feelings just like they were. Most of the time they would thank me for showing them what a sweet, non-threatening person he was and apologize for their curiosity. We would part with my anger quenched and with them more informed of those who are "different". As I grew older, I became less impetuous and less apt to embarrass people by letting them know that they shouldn't stare at him.

Times and attitudes changed over the years and people became more informed and accepting of our "angel unaware". Many times people would approach us and talk to Denny like an old friend. They would share stories of friends or relatives with Down's and we would compare experiences of living with a 'special' person. Denny would smile and answer when they asked him questions, and take part in the conversation. He liked that kind of attention and seemed to know that these people liked him.

None of my children ever acted embarrassed or ashamed of their Uncle Denny. He was just as precious to them as he was to Joe, Laura or me. They would take him with them if they went shopping or to a circus or bowling or the movies. They would take him to the wrestling matches even though they didn't particularly care for wrestling. The boys would take him to the basketball court and let him shoot baskets with them. They would include him in all of their activities. If I sent Joe or Shelley to the grocery store they would go by to see if Granny needed anything and take Denny with them because he got such joy just being with them.

My grandchildren also loved Uncle Denny and treated him like he was just a bigger kid. When they were babies, he would be the first one they held their arms out to when they came to visit. If they were crying or fussy he'd say, "Well, come see me, boy (or girl)", and they would go to him for comfort and love. He would coo and croon to them and his voice seemed to soothe them. He would wait on them when they needed a drink of water or would show them how a toy worked or play ball with them. As they got older they would bring him a toy or book or a treat when they came to visit him. They included him in their birthday parties and to watch their soccer or baseball games and they would introduce him to their friends with no reservations or embarrassment. As they all got older the roles were reversed and the children would bring Denny a Dr. Pepper or a piece of cake or bowl of ice cream. They would look after him and take care of his needs.

When he was in his thirties his hair turned white and he said he looked like an "old man grandpa", or if he was tired and didn't feel good then he "felt like an old man grandpa". The doctors said his body aged faster than normal so I guess he did feel like a old man. He eventually got to where he didn't want to leave the house. I don't know if he didn't want to leave his writing or if he didn't want to leave Mom alone, but we would invite him to go to things he used to enjoy and he'd say, "Nah, better not go."

Mother passed away in May, 1992 after being sick for 3 months. She had congestive heart failure and pulmonary fibrosis. She deteriorated right before our eyes. Denny knew that she was dying and he would go sit on the bed beside her and hold her hand and talk and hug her and tell her he loved her. They had long conversations remembering back over the years and talking about things they had done together and people they knew. He seemed to understand and accepted it without question. When she died he was very brave because he knew she was in Heaven with God. He told our pastor that Mom was in Heaven with God, and our Dad, and Grandpa (her Dad).

Laura, Joe and I had a family conference and decided it would be best for Denny to live with Laura and her husband, Dwain. They lived next door and had really gotten close as they were in and out all the time and had taken care of Mom and Denny for the last few years. They really didn't see how they could give him up. I worked and hadn't been able to spend as much time with them as I had before but I would have gladly given up my job to stay home and take care of Denny. Joe felt like he should take him because he was the oldest and the only other male sibling and would have gladly taken him back to Alaska with him. After much discussion and soul searching, we all agreed that it would be best for all concerned for Denny to live with Laura and Dwain. He was used to being at their house next door and he loved being with them and we thought it would be less traumatic for him.

Laura and Dwain fixed up one of their spare bedrooms with Denny's bed, his desk, his dresser, his filing cabinet, his TV and his briefcases of papers. They placed everything in the same positions they were in before in his old room. The transition was made smoothly and Denny was real proud of his new room. He would take everyone that came to visit in to see it. He seemed to be happy living with sister. He started calling her "Mom" and Dwain "Dad." He settled into his routine of watching TV and writing in his Big Chief tablets. He loved to go with Dwain to mow the lawn at our Church. He thought that was his job. He would work like a Trojan out in the yard with Dwain, cleaning up after the dog, and mowing. He helped Laura in the house and went with her to buy groceries. He would remind her of things they needed and would go up and down the aisles gathering up things. He always had to have his Big Chief's and usually bought two. They kept his life as close to his regular routine as possible.

Mom had been gone about two months when Denny started losing weight. He just quit eating. He would tell Laura that he wasn't hungry but she would manage to coax him to eat a little bit. She took him to our family doctor who had treated him ever since Mom and Denny moved to Odessa. Dr. Butler could find nothing wrong with his stomach or throat or digestive system. He did find that Denny had congestive heart failure and lung problems like Mom had but not as far advanced. He gave Denny some medicine that would boost his appetite and help him eat more. Laura would cook all his favorite foods to encourage him to eat but to no avail. He just did not want to eat.

Denny started talking about going to Las Vegas to see the family out there. He wanted to go back to where he was born. He talked about when he was a little boy and would reminisce about things that happened when he was young. He also talked about Mom a lot. He would say, "I miss him; I want to see him".

Denny weighed 120 lbs. before Mom died and in just 4 or 5 months he was down to 86 lbs. and still would not eat. We encouraged, cajoled, threatened and bullied him trying to get him to eat. We would tell him if he didn't eat he would die and he would just say, "I know". When we asked if that was what he wanted he said, 'Yes, I want to see God, and Mom, and Dad". He talked of our grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends who had been dead for years and how much he wanted to see them. Our pastor, Frank Lasater, who Denny loved and called "Preach", would come and visit and try to get him to eat. Dr. Butler would talk and talk to him about eating so he would get strong but all our pleas were met with stubborn refusal. He would tell us, "I'm tired of eating; I want to go home and see Mom and Dad and God." He knew what dying was and he would say, "Mom's dead, me next." We would tell him how much we would miss him and how heartbroken we would be if he died and assure him that we loved him. He would just sigh and say, "I know but I want to go see Mom; I miss him."

In November he had pneumonia and was hospitalized for over a week and we thought he might not make it but he rallied and we brought him home. After much soul-searching and praying and consulting with Dr. Butler and Pastor Frank, we had papers drawn up stating that he was not to be hooked up to machines or resuscitated should he quit breathing or had heart failure. Also we didn't want him hooked up to feeding tubes just to keep him alive against his will.

In February Laura and Dwain decided to take him to Las Vegas in hopes that seeing the family there would give him the will to live. When they told him about their plans he was so excited he could hardly wait. He started eating so he would be strong enough to make the trip. His stomach had shrunk so much he couldn't eat much but he would make an effort to get as much down as he could.

The first part of March they left on their trip. We were all excited because we thought this trip might be just what he needed to snap him out of the self-destructive route he was on. We all expected a big turn-around in his attitude because this seemed to be an important goal to him. We thought when he saw all the family who loved him and cared for him he would change his mind about wanting to die.

He ate fairly well on the trip out to Vegas and was in good spirits. Laura said he was excited and chattered all the way. As soon as they got there his demeanor changed. He wouldn't eat and was very quiet and just seemed to lose his excitement and gave up. It was as if he had fulfilled his last wish and now it was time to get on with his plan. He got real sick and had to be rushed to the hospital. Ironically, it was the same hospital he had been born in. The doctors who attended him there concurred with Dr. Butler in that there was nothing they could do to give him the will to live. After waiting a couple of days for the trauma of the hospital visit to subside and to give his body a little time to strengthen, Laura and Denny flew home. The road trip would have been to much for him and they were afraid something might happen on the way. Dwain drove home alone.

A few days after they got home Denny was so weak he couldn't get out of bed to sit in the living room to watch TV so he stayed in bed. He didn't have the strength to get dressed or even go to the bathroom by himself. A hospital bed replaced his bed to make it easier for Laura to take care of him. Dwain would carry him to the living room to sit awhile and to the bathroom but after a few days he didn't even want to get out of his bed. He didn't want the TV on in his room; he just lay there and stared at the walls. Laura asked him one day if he wanted his Big Chief so he could write and he told her, "No, No more write; No more eat - I'm done". His life story was finished as far as he was concerned.

The next week he was put on a portable oxygen machine and visiting nurses would come in everyday to bathe him and take his vital signs. He weighed 67 lbs. the last time they were able to weigh him.

He told us what he wanted to be buried in, who he wanted to carry him (pall bearers), and to give his money to the church in his offering envelope. He made his plans, set his house in order and waited. He didn't say goodbye to anyone, it seemed like he had said everything he had to say and the conclusion was inevitable. We would all assure him we loved him when we went to see him and he would say, "I know; I love you, too", but somehow our love wasn't enough to keep him here.

My husband, Duane, had been out of town for several days and when he got home we went over to see Denny. Denny was so glad to see him and told him he was glad he was home. He said, "Wayne, guess what? I'm going home". Duane thought he said, "I'm glad you're home." again and Duane said, "Well, buddy, I'm glad to be home". Denny repeated, "No, Wayne, I'm going home."

At 10:15 the next morning, April 8, 1993, Denny went home! He was 50 years 7 months and 29 days old. We buried him in his blue gray suit, with a tie he had picked out and paid for himself, with a white carnation boutonniere on his lapel.

Denny made a lot of friends in his lifetime. Grocery store clerks would stock his favorite brand of candy cigarettes. Sackers at the grocery store were his buddies and if he missed a Saturday buying groceries they would always ask about him and send their regards. Denny always went with Mom, Laura and I to the hairdresser so she started cutting his hair, too. He would pay her one dollar for his haircut. When we would try to pay her the regular fee she would say, "No, Denny paid for his haircut." That made him feel like he was taking care of his own needs and he loved Pat to death. The feeling was mutual.

Denny touched the lives of many people he never met. The whole family would talk about Denny and laugh at his antics and relate stories about him wherever we were so people got to know him even though they never met him personally. When Denny died, I got the sweetest letter from a co-worker of my youngest son. She, too, has a Down's child and she said she felt she knew Denny through conversations with Joe. She said the love and caring of our family because of Denny gave her hope and courage to deal with raising her son at home.

There are so many things I could tell about Denny, the things he said and did, that it would take volumes to write. He continued to amaze us with his knowledge and understanding, his love and compassion, his ability to know and do things just by observing others, and his sense of right and wrong. People have told us how fortunate Denny was to have a family like ours but we are the ones who were fortunate. He taught us all the good, decent things of life, drew us closer and made us stronger. We we're truly blessed because for a few short years we walked with an Angel. He will always be a big, important part of our lives and his memory will never fade from our hearts and minds.

We cleaned out his room and threw away stacks and stacks of pages of Big Chief tablets. We each kept a few pages of his writing as a keepsake. Years from now, someone will clean out my box of keepsakes and wonder what significance those old scraps of paper with little squiggly lines had in my life. Little will they know, this was Denny's life told only the way he could tell it.

I have only one thing left to say. Denny, Good Job, Man!