By Paula Cochran
When Donald Wenrich was a little boy, he talked so much his exasperated grandfather would sometimes say, "For God sakes, shut up."
But he couldn't help himself. His newspapers were always late because he chatted with everyone and his running mouth got him in trouble at school on more than one occasion. Yet, the young man was hard not to love. After all, he was the type of kid, who if he had four pieces of candy, would give you three.
As the young man grew, he continued his social life through sports. Though asthma kept him benched much of the time, he participated simply for the joy of being part of a team. And though he never raced, he enjoyed cheering on other teams at the Selinsgrove Speedway. His love of racing lasted a lifetime, and an annual tradition was to attend Daytona each year with his mother, Jean.
When he was old enough to work, he got a job at Jackas in Mifflinburg and worked there through high school and college, saving enough money to buy himself a Plymouth Duster.
He was working in the auto body department at Kratzer Motors when a young lady named Ruth Ann Walter purchased a Mazda pickup truck. Enthralled by the handsome young man, Ruth Ann arranged for Don to put a roll bar on her truck, then fog lights, then a sliding rear window. Finally, she asked him out.
He was a romantic. "He would hold the door for me and bring flowers," Ruth Ann recalled. "I finally had to tell him to stop, because it took too long to get out of the car, waiting for him to come around all the time." The two were married in 1986.
The romantic man was also quite a character, with a sense of humor that could sometimes get him into trouble. At the grocery store when the clerk would inform them of the total, he would fake a heart attack. When he had a real heart attack and landed in the hospital, he continued the game. Two inexperienced nurses were in charge of setting up the heart monitor. When they finally got the appliance attached to him he began to jerk and carry on, scaring the two nurses half to death before they realized he was joking.
The romantic joker was also quite a flirt.
"He loved women," his wife said. More than once she was told her husband was flirting with one woman or another. "I would tell people that I would worry if he wasn't flirting." His flirting didn't bother her a bit. It was her he called every day to tell her how much he loved her and her he came home to.
Though he wasn't supposed to call her at work, he would call here there, too. Sometimes he'd joke with new employees, saying, "Tell Ruth Ann her ex-husband is on the phone," stirring up whoever had to get her. Ruth Ann would then have to reassure them that it was her husband, joking.
Don also loved animals, especially his Dalmatian, Jibbers. "He loved dogs," Ruth Ann said. "When he was out checking water meters for the borough he'd see dogs he liked and he'd say, let's take a drive. I want to show you this neat dog.'"
Once he came home concerned about a starving Dalmatian. The family had to assure him the dog was fine. Apparently his Dalmatian, who daughter Samantha says they called "the baby cow," was so overweight that in comparison, the other dog appear exceptionally thin.
Though Don suffered from asthma, diabetes, a twisted kidney and prostate cancer he didn't allow his health problems to stop him from laughing his way through life.
But the aneurism that had lay dormant in his brain was no joking matter. When it burst, it took Don's life swiftly, and way too soon.
Devastated by the loss, his beloved dog, Jibbers, died of what is believed to be a broken heart two days later. The two have moved on to the Shangri-la in the sky, where they are surely side by side -- Donald enjoying pickled eggs while Jibbers laps soft ice cream.
n Passings is an interview with friends and family who recently lost a loved one. The features will appear occasionally on Mondays.
