I bumped in to and old friend yesterday, Dan Fleming, and we got to talking of the history of our area, and how so little is actually recorded. I mentioned Denman and what I knew of him, and he suggested I pen some of what I knew of Denman, so here are some of my memories of him. Where to start?
Denman was a mechanical "wonder." There were few, if any, things that he could not fix. On his corner property were many old rusty cars, buried in long grass. His house was wall worn, on his front porch, which faced the road, an old upright piano, and some other assorted items that were stored there. It all looked uninhabited, but actually, Denman, his wife, Mary, and back in the 60's, two daughters that I know of. I think each daughter graduated from high school with honors. Appearance wise, it was junky, dilapidated and dirty looking. It was Appalachia personified, so to speak.
Early on, when my folks would drive my the place, generally comments of "how anyone can live there, like that." Then, one day, my Mom and Dad were on a drive with a neighbor, and cousin, and when driving by the Denman place, Mom made her comment, and Ray Shannon said, "Jess, you better not say too much about them, I think they are distant cousins." From then on, they were our "distant" cousins, who could afford a piano on their front porch.
At the side of their house, in the yard, was a rather large Oak log, on end, about three feet in length, and this was his work bench. Dad had a Sears chain saw, a big old hard to start one. I gave up trying, one day, had daughter Melissa and son Brad and the chainsaw accompany me, to Denmans. He lived on our road, maybe three miles away. We parked and the kids and I, and the saw got his attention and I placed the saw on that old stump. He had worked on it before, picked up his tool pouch. It was a leather pouch, I think made from an old postmans mail bag. It had all the tools he needed. Many of the tools he had made himself and each had a specific use.
At the side of their house, in the yard, was a rather large Oak log, on end, about three feet in length, and this was his work bench. Dad had a Sears chain saw, a big old hard to start one. I gave up trying, one day, had daughter Melissa and son Brad and the chainsaw accompany me, to Denmans. He lived on our road, maybe three miles away. We parked and the kids and I, and the saw got his attention and I placed the saw on that old stump. He had worked on it before, picked up his tool pouch. It was a leather pouch, I think made from an old postmans mail bag. It had all the tools he needed. Many of the tools he had made himself and each had a specific use.
He started tinkering, loosened some things, took off some things ... before I go any farther, the house had no running water, and in close proximity to Denham, you always wanted to stand "upwind." He tinkered some more, we were all watching him ... and looked around, and realized, there was Brad, head on his knees, intently, quietly watching, and next to him Melissa, who was generally fighting with her brother, and she, too, was intently watching. I scanned the rest of the group, there was Denman's wife, and next to her, three or four people or neighbors who also had brought something for him to work on.
They were all, sitting and watching, engrossed, almost reverently, intently watching Denman, dirty old smelly Denman ..... it was so quiet .... I thought to myself, in this unusual setting, God had us all in the palm of his hand, just sitting and watching Denman perform his minor mechanical miracles. From that moment on, I looked at that piece of property and those that lived there, in a different light.
