Once upon a time, just about the time my dad was asking me “hey stevedore, tell me something, how do you get all those girls to follow you around all the time?” a man came to our house. My dad introduced him to us as an old buddy of his that had just got out of the army, his name was Denny. I don’t remember how but somehow I ended up sitting in his lap, he was a very pleasant person and I was very comfortable sitting in his lap, and to tell you the truth, absolutely infatuated with his mustache. He told my brother and I that if we would go outside and fill a basket, which was a regular weaved wicker basket that although I don’t remember for sure, must have been sitting somewhere in the living room within his sight, with dandelions, that he would take us up to the seven eleven which was just across the street at the end of the front yard, and buy us the largest Icee they had. My brother and I grabbed the basket and out the door we went, we picked and filled that basket with as many dandelions as we could pile on it and then returned, telling him we’d filled the basket with dandelions. No sooner than we had filled that basket with dandelions, Denny was taking us to the seven eleven, with me on his shoulders the whole way, across a two-acre yard. I don’t remember drinking the Icee or even holding the cup but I know he got us one. The year 2002 wile I was in DC, I heard and began singing a song by a man who is now deceased yet remains one of my all time favorite, when I became curious about the identity of the person being sang about in a couple of the verses of the song, at the time, I thought the person being sang about was the artist himself, a type of self portrait in song. As I contemplated the validity of this possibility, I asked the people, “Who is he singing about lord?”
“…and they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun and he lost the friends but kept the memories…”
The man named Denny that came to our house so many years ago is who the people showed me.
Although that I know of, I never saw Denny again, Over the years I have remembered and reminisced this event many times, most prevalent of the memory is how infatuated with him I was, staring at his mustache, sitting there in the comfort of his lap.
Stephen Wayne Reno September 20, 2005
Thank you to God and the people for this memory.
Thank you to God and the people for letting me know the truth.
“Rocky Mountain high” sang, and I believe written by, John Denver