My final chapter is about the legacy that Don and Eunice have left us all. This is the hardest part to write. This is where the artist creates a perfect picture, the poet the best poem. The photographer captures his best picture. I don’t know how to do this part so I asked for help from others.
Random memories:
From a Comstock Park parent: When Ellen was three years old she had a significant hearing/speech problem. Don Buning arranged for her to spend time every week with the Stoney Creek Speech teacher the year before she started kindergarten. These lessons were very helpful to Ellen. Ellen felt very important about going to school and greeting “Mr. Bunny” and the school secretary when she entered. Then, one day in the spring there was a kindergarten readiness day where the next year’s class was “tested” by teachers. Mrs. Waters advised that Ellen should be held back, that she was not ready and would not succeed in school. Her reasoning was that she did not see in Ellen the fear or intimidation of a day in school and of being tested. Ellen did go on to kindergarten. Today Ellen is the Senior Engineer, Infiniband and Host Ethernet Hypervisor Development at IBM in Rochester, MN.
I remember all the vacations we went on. How we left so early in the morning, stayed in campers, and sat around camp fires. Little did I know that this was an experience most kids did not get growing up. I figured at the time that all kids went to Disneyland, the Badlands, the Grand Canyon, Maine and Arcadia National Park, Yellowstone, Mexico and Colorado. I took for granted the summers at Eastern Tennessee State University, Western Washington, and Rhode Island.
I remember how special Christmas was. How the carols would start on December 1, I remember all the games we played, the company visiting, the shows we watched and how we always got up so darn early on Christmas day. I took good cooking and good food for granted. I assumed all kids could go to the school gym the day after Christmas and have five hours of PE. I remember the annual slide show and thinking how everyone was so much younger then.
I remember Sunday afternoon dinners growing up. We always went to church in the morning and then always had a home-cooked sit down dinner after church with grandparents. The conversations were usually silly but always priceless.
I remember a couple acts of kindness that meant a lot to me: Mom and Dad swapped cars with us our first Thanksgiving, so that we could pull the little red trailer with a couch in it to our apartment in Champaign. We swapped back at Christmas, with a ding in their front fender. (Fortunately, Dave was driving.) Mom and Dad gave us their bed at Christmas break, the year that I was pregnant with Julie. Mom flew down to Raleigh, all by herself, (first time ever), to help me with Jamie and Julie when Dave had to be gone for a week. And, of course, Dad and his toolbox have saved us many a time.
