Denny was such a great friend. He'd come up behind me and scared the heck out of me so he could see me drop my books. It worked every time! There is a great pic of a group of us in someone's bed at one of the reunions with all of us under the covers..that would be 4 girls and Denny in the middle. He could get away with most everything. I thought he'd become a race car driver. He loved to "drift"around corners when we were driving out on country roads. Truly a guy who lived life to the fullest. He had so many friends and none more kind and loyal than Greg Hermsen. Denny, you are already missed!
Denny had a Ford station wagon, kind of blue green I think, and not the Country Squire style with the supposed wood trim. But I could be wrong about any of it except the station wagon part. It was a bit beat up, but serviceable. For reasons forever lost to the clouds, Denny had decided that I was a suitable companion for his race car training course. It didn't matter that it was a station wagon with an automatic - no heel&toe double clutch downshifting here - it only mattered that he could get the tires to screech and burn as he took the imaginary proper line through the corners.
We’d meet in the parking lot and off to the north we’d go: Fox Point, Mequon, Brown Deer. All those not yet developed areas where the two lane tar roads were in place, curving nicely past the empty lots, no police, no oncoming traffic - most of the time. I’d sit shotgun, no seatbelts of course, and listen as Denny would expound and rattle ramble through the finer points of whatever was on his mind. Picture this station wagon barreling down these roads, high speed, jammed-on brakes, dropping the automatic into low, engine racing higher and Denny fighting the wheel as the tires felt like they’d pop off the rims. I remember it well, and how calm we were and so deliriously ignorant of risk, and so not-caring when we thought of it. And Denny, I came to learn, was a suburban escapee from a Kerouac novel, and we raced together through those after school hours. And then, just like high school, it stopped for me just as suddenly as it started, but he kept drifting that wagon and I just drifted. After high school I don’t think I ever saw him again but, like John French in his studio out there in Montana, I sure wish I had.
Jon, so elequent and touching, again. I didn't know Denny well, and you make me wish I did. If you're not a published author, I think you should or at least could be.
Denny, Denny, Denny..what can I say? When I needed a date, you were there; when I got an F in chemistry, you were there; when I hated my parents, you were there; when I needed a partner in water ballet, you were there; when I got a terrible health scare, you were there. You helped me through it all..I wish you were still here to scream something inappropriate at me across the room at a reunion. I miss you..
I knew Denny as "DoubleD". Whether that was his general nickname or just mine I can't remember. He shared my irreverent humor and was one of the few that found my crap funny. Later in life I worked with a guy named (I kid you not) David David. His nickname was "DoubleD". I informed him he was not the 1st and ruined his day. Of course David David did not have a brother named Dick Double either. I lost track of David. I had a super time with Denny at the 50th....my humor had deteriorated to 'off the wall' and Denny just loved it. He almost choked laughing.I enjoy a premonition that Denny and I might meet again, but the atmosphere might be a just a bit on the warm side. High 5, DoubleD!
Barbara Boat (Wright)
Denny was such a great friend. He'd come up behind me and scared the heck out of me so he could see me drop my books. It worked every time! There is a great pic of a group of us in someone's bed at one of the reunions with all of us under the covers..that would be 4 girls and Denny in the middle. He could get away with most everything. I thought he'd become a race car driver. He loved to "drift"around corners when we were driving out on country roads. Truly a guy who lived life to the fullest. He had so many friends and none more kind and loyal than Greg Hermsen. Denny, you are already missed!
Jonathan Previant
Denny had a Ford station wagon, kind of blue green I think, and not the Country Squire style with the supposed wood trim. But I could be wrong about any of it except the station wagon part. It was a bit beat up, but serviceable. For reasons forever lost to the clouds, Denny had decided that I was a suitable companion for his race car training course. It didn't matter that it was a station wagon with an automatic - no heel&toe double clutch downshifting here - it only mattered that he could get the tires to screech and burn as he took the imaginary proper line through the corners.
We’d meet in the parking lot and off to the north we’d go: Fox Point, Mequon, Brown Deer. All those not yet developed areas where the two lane tar roads were in place, curving nicely past the empty lots, no police, no oncoming traffic - most of the time. I’d sit shotgun, no seatbelts of course, and listen as Denny would expound and rattle ramble through the finer points of whatever was on his mind. Picture this station wagon barreling down these roads, high speed, jammed-on brakes, dropping the automatic into low, engine racing higher and Denny fighting the wheel as the tires felt like they’d pop off the rims. I remember it well, and how calm we were and so deliriously ignorant of risk, and so not-caring when we thought of it. And Denny, I came to learn, was a suburban escapee from a Kerouac novel, and we raced together through those after school hours. And then, just like high school, it stopped for me just as suddenly as it started, but he kept drifting that wagon and I just drifted. After high school I don’t think I ever saw him again but, like John French in his studio out there in Montana, I sure wish I had.
Anne "Ahna" Cleveland
Jon, so elequent and touching, again. I didn't know Denny well, and you make me wish I did. If you're not a published author, I think you should or at least could be.
Pamela Brown (Trost)
Denny, Denny, Denny..what can I say? When I needed a date, you were there; when I got an F in chemistry, you were there; when I hated my parents, you were there; when I needed a partner in water ballet, you were there; when I got a terrible health scare, you were there. You helped me through it all..I wish you were still here to scream something inappropriate at me across the room at a reunion. I miss you..
Dean Miller
I knew Denny as "DoubleD". Whether that was his general nickname or just mine I can't remember. He shared my irreverent humor and was one of the few that found my crap funny. Later in life I worked with a guy named (I kid you not) David David. His nickname was "DoubleD". I informed him he was not the 1st and ruined his day. Of course David David did not have a brother named Dick Double either. I lost track of David. I had a super time with Denny at the 50th....my humor had deteriorated to 'off the wall' and Denny just loved it. He almost choked laughing.I enjoy a premonition that Denny and I might meet again, but the atmosphere might be a just a bit on the warm side. High 5, DoubleD!