Donald R Green
July 9, 1924 – March 31, 2015

Don left this world on March 31, 2015 at the age of 90 with the support of John Knox Village Hospice House. He finally joined his beloved Margaret in the afterlife. He was an incredible man. Without a formal education he learned by experience throughout his life. He retired from ABF truck line where he was the mechanic who could fix anything and union shop steward. Out of boredom the first years of retirement he converted the barn into a house, this being the third house he built from his own design. Everyone knew Don as a dog person. He was both a breeder and accomplished handler specializing in standard poodles. I knew him as "Uncle" but more than that, he was a mentor and friend to me in my adult life. I loved him and Margaret with all my heart. Unfortunately I could not be with him during his last hours. I was fighting breast cancer back home in Washington State. But I cherish the many years we did have and the special relationship we shared. Margie, my mom and Don's older sister, wrote The Pear Tree (below) about an adventure they had as children.

Thank you to all that supported Don and me these past few years. Especially our Hospice Team, including Chaplin Jay, Karen, Adele, Gwen and the many caring staff on our John Knox team, Carol for the loving care she gave Don at home, Nancy for serving as my alternate Power of Attorney, Glenna for watching over the property after Don went to John Knox, Cheryl & Rod for sending Don care packages and prayers, and Cathy & Collin for providing me a shoulder to cry on. We could not have done it without all of you. You are a blessing I will carry in my heart forever.

Now for Margie's true story reflecting Don's character . . .

Warmly,
Becky Waite


The Pear Tree by Margie Wilson
That overhanging cliff looked impossible to climb. I was seven years old and my brother Don, nicknamed Buster, was a year younger. We just wanted to see what was up there. We'd always talked about it on our way to and from school outside Kansas City, Missouri. Exploring on our way home from school was the most fun we had. He was always daring me to do something dangerous. Of course I would do it just to show him I could.

One sunny day Buster and I decided to climb that cliff once and for all. We started our upward climb struggling against sticker plants, raw roots, old branches and vines sticking out of dry dusty dirt. When we reached the top of the ledge we laid there under a shade tree panting. In the distance partially hidden we could see a grove of trees, a farmhouse, barn and several cows.

Looking around I saw something that appeared edible, so I picked it up, took a tiny bite, and called out, "Buster this tastes good. It's juicy too." He looked around and said, "Those are pears." Looking up in the tree we could see lots of pears. They were too high for us to reach so we searched the ground finding enough juicy over-ripe pears to munch on.

We were quite content in the shade of the pear tree when we unexpectedly heard a loud angry voice. Suddenly from around the bend came a short little man, wearing only overalls. He ran up the hill pointing a shotgun at us. We scrambled up fast. I jumped behind my brother holding onto the back of his shirt in an attempt to hide.

"Git off my property, stop stealin' my pears or I'm gon'na shoot ya," the man yelled. Buster stood his ground while protecting me. He said, "Mister, we only ate the pears on the ground." I pulled closer to him in fear.

"Dat's my pear tree," the farmer said as he cocked his gun. Looking down the barrel I was sure I could see bullets as big as golf balls. Looking back toward me Buster yelled, "RUN." Coming from behind us we heard, "An' don't let me see you kids up here again!"

Buster and I never saw that pear tree again.