Ken Copper: Remembering Denny

When I saw the message was from his daughter, Lisa, I knew it couldn't be good news. Denny turned 93 in August and when you're that age and fighting a rematch with cancer the odds are against you. Denny Krick died peacefully last Saturday at his home in Arlington, Washington another in that long line of members of the Greatest Generation who are leaving the planet by the thousands. We are poorer as a nation for their absence.

I have known Denny for several years and can't remember a single time he didn't make me smile. We met at a Carlsbad, California gym ten or fifteen years ago where we often found ourselves side by side riding those bikes to nowhere. The fact that his regimen kept him slim and in full command of his faculties inspired me to do the same. He looked to be on his way to 100 and that seemed like a good example to emulate. I found him to be a great conversationalist and, though we often differed on politics, we became friends.

Like my father, Denny was a Navy veteran of the Second World War who served in the South Pacific theater. After his service hitch he settled in San Diego with his wife, Virginia, where they raised two children and enjoyed life in a booming post war California. Virginia passed away several years ago and Denny kept her memory alive by sponsoring a bench (Virginia's Bench) above Moonlight Beach in Encinitas where he would often enjoy a Pacific sunset.

Five years ago my late wife and I planned a trip with Denny and another pal, Roger O'Neil, to visit the World War II Museum in New Orleans. It was an unforgettable honor to visit this wonderful national treasure with a WW II veteran in tow as the museum rolls out the red carpet whenever a vet visits. Of course Denny was a big hit! He talked to visiting school children and adults who peppered him with questions about his time in the service. Especially touching was his quiet conversation with a young girl who's great grandfather had never returned from the war in the Pacific. More than a few of us had a tear in our eye as he talked of the sacrifices of her great grandfather and so many others.

When driving became an issue for him Denny decided to leave California and move north where he could be comfortable living in a house he had built behind the home of his daughter and her husband. He was doing well until recently when a cancer he had battled to a draw a few years ago returned with a vengeance. True to his generational code there was no mention of this when I had a long conversation with him on the phone a month ago. He sounded fine and seemed in good spirits though I now realize it was just Denny not wanting to share setbacks or problems with me or anyone. He was a kind, considerate and truly gentle man to the end.

As I write this it's sad to reflect on the fact that we don't seem to be making men like Denny anymore. Whether the cause is a lack of good parenting or an absence of ambition and moral courage, we have most certainly become soft and short sighted when compared to the men and women who took on the twin challenges of a depression and a world war. Maybe we'll never be that good again as a nation, though I know we certainly need to try.

I'm not sad because Denny is no longer here. I, and his many friends, are, without question, eternally grateful that he was in our lives. No doubt he will dwell in our hearts forever.