Second Lieutenant Jeremy Spearing is ready.
He spent this week saying his good-byes, celebrating his birthday and Thanksgiving early, and packing his bags.
Because Jeremy Spearking is going to war.
Spearing, 25, and 2,399 other soldiers from the state’s 45th Infantry Brigade leave today as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom.
On Friday, the 45th will move to Fort Bliss, Texas, for “about 12 weeks” of intense, mission specific training. Early next year, they’re expected to be deployed to Iraq.
Spearing will return next October.
“Serving in the military is something I’ve always wanted to do,” he said. “It’s something I’ve always believed in. I was raised with the idea that you are supposed to serve your country in some way.”
A 2000 graduate of Norman High School, Spearing has served his country since he was 17. He enlisted because of the influence of his cousin and his uncle, General Miles Deering.
He also earned a degree in Criminology from the University of Oklahoma in 2006, attended two years of ROTC and served as president of the Delta Tau Delta fraternity in 2005.
And he’s more worried about his mom than the tasks ahead.
“I just plan on doing my job effectively,” he said. “The Army has trained me unbelievably well. I’ll follow the rules and make sure everyone comes home safe.”
But his mother, he said, “is worried to death.”
“I know she’s scared. But she’s very supportive. She’s helped out other families by sending supplies. She knows this is something we have to do.”
Understanding is one thing, concern for a son is a different matter.
“You just have to learn to toughen up and pray a lot,” Jeremy’s mother, Debbie said. “You have a lot of confidence in your son and the people he’s with.”
A single mother of two, both of Debbie’s sons followed the same path.
Both graduated from Norman High, were members of Delta Tau Delta Fraternity and attended the OU.
And both serve in the military.
Her youngest son, Allen, recently enlisted.
But like her son, Debbie Spearing has prepared herself; and, like her son, she’s upbeat about his trip and return.
“You have to be strong for yourself and your son,” she said. “You do worry. When he was first activated, well...it was the worst feeling in the world. But the role of parent is to be strong and I will do anything and everything to make it easier for him.”
And that includes, cards, letters, care packages and “anything” to remind her son that he’s missed, loved and respected.
“I always want to love and support them and always want to be positive. I send lots of letters and cards, whatever needs to be done, just count me in.”
For Jeremy, that simple act speaks volumes. “There’s nothing like a letter from home,” he said.
And while he acknowledges the difficulty of leaving home, Oklahoma and his friends and family, Spearing plans on taking a little of Oklahoma with him.”
“I’ve lived in Norman all my life,” he said. “Oklahoma is the best place to be. And, yeah, I’ll definitely miss my friends and family. But I’ll be back home in October of next year.”
To make the trip shorter, Spearing said he would take two souvenirs with him: a photo of his family and friends and an OU flag.
“The photos are to remind me of home,” he said.
And the OU flag?
“I plan to fly the flag somewhere that’s unique in the land. I want to make it a keepsake.”
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Cops, jail architect meet
Area police officials want Cleveland County’s new jail designed so officers can book prisoners in the facility and then “get out in a timely manner,” one participate in a jail design meeting confirmed last week.
Moore Police Chief Ted Williams said jail architect Ben Graves met with “several” of the area’s chiefs of police recently to discuss issues such as booking procedures, prisoner unloading and processing for the new facility.
“Mr. Graves wanted to know what issues they should look into in the new jail,” he said. “And we were all petty much in agreement, we wanted to get our officers in, get the inmates processed and get the officer back out on the street as quick as possible.”
Williams said he urged Graves to include additional work stations for police officers and a secure booking area in the jail’s final design.
“We need several work stations,” he said. “It streamlines things if officers can complete their reports and do some of that stuff at the jail.”
Last week’s meeting was the latest in a series of meetings about the jail’s design.
In September Cleveland County commissioners voted unanimously to build a second county jail on a site along Franklin Road, east of U.S. 77. The county purchased the 29-acre plot of land south of the York-Johnson Controls plant for $1.3 million earlier this year.
Since then, Graves and several other county officials have held a series of meetings to gather information and make decisions about the jail’s design.
Those meetings — which include Cushing jail consultant Don Jones and Cleveland County sheriff Dwayne Beggs — are expected to continue until early November.
Once the process is complete, Graves said he would take the information collected and use it to finalize a jail design.
However, before that design can be built it must be approved by state Fire Marshall Robert Doke and Don Garrison, supervisor of jail inspections for the Oklahoma State Department of Health.
In 2006, Garrison told Cleveland County commissioners they could face heavy fines or the closure of the jail if they didn’t take steps to reduce the inmate population.
Garrison’s office has continued to monitor the county’s progress.
“We feel like these guys are moving as fast as they can,” he said. “But it wasn’t like that a few years ago. As far as I was concerned, then, they weren’t making any progress at all.”
Since then, Garrison said county officials have worked hard to develop a new jail and get that jail built.
“As long as they continue to make the progress they are making, we’re probably not going to be too involved.”
Still, Garrison’s office must sign off on the jail’s design. “Our job is to review the design and make sure they meet jail standards,” he said. “We will thoroughly examine it.”
And while Garrison said he didn’t know when he would see the jail’s final plans, he did express confidence in Graves, the jail’s architect.
“I don’t expect any problems with Ben Graves or AiP,” he said. “We’ve got four or five architects in the state that we don’t worry about at all. But it hasn’t always been like that. When we began to push to get new jails built, we had some architects that had never built a jail, and we had a few problems.”
Garrison said he stayed in “frequent contact” with Graves and with jail consultant Don Jones. “I’m real aware of what they are doing,” he said. “I talk to Ben (Graves) and Don (Jones) nearly every day.”
The big issue with the jails, he said, is inmate population.
“We’ve got eight jails under construction,” he said. “And when they are finished, we will have completed 48 county jails which are either brand new or have been remodeled. But they are short of staff and overcrowded. Even most of the new ones are full and to be honest, I don’t know what they are gonna do about that.”
Moore Police Chief Ted Williams said jail architect Ben Graves met with “several” of the area’s chiefs of police recently to discuss issues such as booking procedures, prisoner unloading and processing for the new facility.
“Mr. Graves wanted to know what issues they should look into in the new jail,” he said. “And we were all petty much in agreement, we wanted to get our officers in, get the inmates processed and get the officer back out on the street as quick as possible.”
Williams said he urged Graves to include additional work stations for police officers and a secure booking area in the jail’s final design.
“We need several work stations,” he said. “It streamlines things if officers can complete their reports and do some of that stuff at the jail.”
Last week’s meeting was the latest in a series of meetings about the jail’s design.
In September Cleveland County commissioners voted unanimously to build a second county jail on a site along Franklin Road, east of U.S. 77. The county purchased the 29-acre plot of land south of the York-Johnson Controls plant for $1.3 million earlier this year.
Since then, Graves and several other county officials have held a series of meetings to gather information and make decisions about the jail’s design.
Those meetings — which include Cushing jail consultant Don Jones and Cleveland County sheriff Dwayne Beggs — are expected to continue until early November.
Once the process is complete, Graves said he would take the information collected and use it to finalize a jail design.
However, before that design can be built it must be approved by state Fire Marshall Robert Doke and Don Garrison, supervisor of jail inspections for the Oklahoma State Department of Health.
In 2006, Garrison told Cleveland County commissioners they could face heavy fines or the closure of the jail if they didn’t take steps to reduce the inmate population.
Garrison’s office has continued to monitor the county’s progress.
“We feel like these guys are moving as fast as they can,” he said. “But it wasn’t like that a few years ago. As far as I was concerned, then, they weren’t making any progress at all.”
Since then, Garrison said county officials have worked hard to develop a new jail and get that jail built.
“As long as they continue to make the progress they are making, we’re probably not going to be too involved.”
Still, Garrison’s office must sign off on the jail’s design. “Our job is to review the design and make sure they meet jail standards,” he said. “We will thoroughly examine it.”
And while Garrison said he didn’t know when he would see the jail’s final plans, he did express confidence in Graves, the jail’s architect.
“I don’t expect any problems with Ben Graves or AiP,” he said. “We’ve got four or five architects in the state that we don’t worry about at all. But it hasn’t always been like that. When we began to push to get new jails built, we had some architects that had never built a jail, and we had a few problems.”
Garrison said he stayed in “frequent contact” with Graves and with jail consultant Don Jones. “I’m real aware of what they are doing,” he said. “I talk to Ben (Graves) and Don (Jones) nearly every day.”
The big issue with the jails, he said, is inmate population.
“We’ve got eight jails under construction,” he said. “And when they are finished, we will have completed 48 county jails which are either brand new or have been remodeled. But they are short of staff and overcrowded. Even most of the new ones are full and to be honest, I don’t know what they are gonna do about that.”
Commentary: Doing the right thing a moral, not political judgement
It doesn’t take an act by the Oklahoma State Legislature to know it’s wrong to steal. Nor do we need a gubernatorial proclamation that lying, cheating on your spouse or killing someone are not the best of ideas.
Because, long before members of the Oklahoma House and Senate convened in their marble chambers at 23rd and Lincoln there were rules of conduct.
The Bible’s 10 commandments were a pretty good start.
From there, society was given the “Golden Rule” — based on Matthew 7:12. “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.”
That simple idea has been the basis for our modern concept of human rights since the time of Christ.
But right now it’s taking it on the chin.
Especially here in Oklahoma.
With state Representative Randy Terrill’s anti-immigrant bill now law, Oklahoma has set aside its moral principals and, in the process, lost its humanity.
Terrill’s recent blast at the Oklahoma Health Care Authority is the perfect example: Terrill criticized the OHCA for allowing women who may or may not be in the country illegally — but who will be giving birth to a United States citizen — to offer treatment to the mother and the child.
In story after story, Terrill called the move “an attempt, by tugging at the heart strings, to backdoor an expansion of government-run health care.”
Terrill went on to say that we “cannot allow Oklahoma to subsidize illegal activity” and the OCHA’s action “would encourage other women to illegally cross the U.S. border.”
He added that the proposal creates a “slippery slope” and called on the OHCA board members to withdraw the proposal.
Thankfully the OCHA passed the rule 6-1 and Gov. Henry signed it.
But what seems lost over this ongoing, almost vitriolic debate over illegal immigration is our collective humanity. An attitude that — for decades — would inspire one Oklahoman to help a neighbor — no questions asked.
We have survived Dust Bowls, tornadoes and terrorists. We have suffered and seen thousands of strangers ride to our defense. And we have done the same for others. Those simple facts has always made me smile.
But now, we’ve embraced the god of Mean.
Now, we have taken the Golden Rule and, in one legislative act, thrown it away.
Today, thousands of our fellow humans, living here now, live in fear.
Today, we have declared war on a race of people simply because of language as “legal status.”
We’ve forgotten the fact that these people — whatever that status, skin color or country of origin — are our brethren.
Like us, they too bleed red.
And like us, they, too, are human.
When Rep. Terrill first offered his immigration proposal, I questioned the idea. I said it was mean spirited.
I still believe that, today.
And since that first column ran, more and more people have done the same. Several state lawmakers had the courage to ask Oklahoma Attorney General Drew Edmondson whether the idea was sound.
Others are planning legal challenges.
Many have protested.
Good.
Because when you finally get through all the politics, the rhetoric and the blizzard of press releases, what you have in this legislation is simply, a lack of compassion and humanity.
There has been no “come let us reason together” and regretfully, few members of the faith community have stood in opposition.
That, too, is a sad statement about our current social climate.
Oklahomans don’t need advice from members of the legislature on how to do the right thing.
We simply need to act.
Because, long before members of the Oklahoma House and Senate convened in their marble chambers at 23rd and Lincoln there were rules of conduct.
The Bible’s 10 commandments were a pretty good start.
From there, society was given the “Golden Rule” — based on Matthew 7:12. “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.”
That simple idea has been the basis for our modern concept of human rights since the time of Christ.
But right now it’s taking it on the chin.
Especially here in Oklahoma.
With state Representative Randy Terrill’s anti-immigrant bill now law, Oklahoma has set aside its moral principals and, in the process, lost its humanity.
Terrill’s recent blast at the Oklahoma Health Care Authority is the perfect example: Terrill criticized the OHCA for allowing women who may or may not be in the country illegally — but who will be giving birth to a United States citizen — to offer treatment to the mother and the child.
In story after story, Terrill called the move “an attempt, by tugging at the heart strings, to backdoor an expansion of government-run health care.”
Terrill went on to say that we “cannot allow Oklahoma to subsidize illegal activity” and the OCHA’s action “would encourage other women to illegally cross the U.S. border.”
He added that the proposal creates a “slippery slope” and called on the OHCA board members to withdraw the proposal.
Thankfully the OCHA passed the rule 6-1 and Gov. Henry signed it.
But what seems lost over this ongoing, almost vitriolic debate over illegal immigration is our collective humanity. An attitude that — for decades — would inspire one Oklahoman to help a neighbor — no questions asked.
We have survived Dust Bowls, tornadoes and terrorists. We have suffered and seen thousands of strangers ride to our defense. And we have done the same for others. Those simple facts has always made me smile.
But now, we’ve embraced the god of Mean.
Now, we have taken the Golden Rule and, in one legislative act, thrown it away.
Today, thousands of our fellow humans, living here now, live in fear.
Today, we have declared war on a race of people simply because of language as “legal status.”
We’ve forgotten the fact that these people — whatever that status, skin color or country of origin — are our brethren.
Like us, they too bleed red.
And like us, they, too, are human.
When Rep. Terrill first offered his immigration proposal, I questioned the idea. I said it was mean spirited.
I still believe that, today.
And since that first column ran, more and more people have done the same. Several state lawmakers had the courage to ask Oklahoma Attorney General Drew Edmondson whether the idea was sound.
Others are planning legal challenges.
Many have protested.
Good.
Because when you finally get through all the politics, the rhetoric and the blizzard of press releases, what you have in this legislation is simply, a lack of compassion and humanity.
There has been no “come let us reason together” and regretfully, few members of the faith community have stood in opposition.
That, too, is a sad statement about our current social climate.
Oklahomans don’t need advice from members of the legislature on how to do the right thing.
We simply need to act.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Norman companies help rebuild vet's '79 El Camino
Since he was a little kid, Jeffrey Anderson Jr., loved El Caminos.
His dad, Jeff senior, drove one.
His granddad, Tom, drove one, too.
And Jeffrey “bought one to fix up” when he was 17.
The El Camino — sort of a combination truck and car made by Chevrolet — has a special meaning for the Air Force staff sergeant.
“I remember a long time ago, working at my granddad’s roofing yard,” Anderson said. “and he would pick me up and drive me there in his El Camino.”
That connection stayed with him.
The years passed, but Anderson’s desire for an El Camino didn’t.
A native of Southern California, he would eventually get married, join the Air Force and have children. His Air Force career would bring him to Oklahoma, to Tinker Air Force Base, and a home in Moore.
In Oklahoma, he’d find his El Camino.
“One day, I was looking around on the Internet and this guy was selling one,” he said. “It was the right time and the right price.”
The car happened to be in Mustang, for $1,350. But it wasn’t in the best of shape — in fact, it was pretty much dead.
“It was the guy’s working car,” Anderson said. “It had just about every problem under the sun. It was pretty much ready for the salvage yard.”
The windshield was broken.
One wheel was close to coming off.
Only about five of the motor’s eight cylinders were firing.
The quarter panels were beat up and filled with expanding foam.
The paint job was “primer red, primer gray and primer black.” Anderson called the color “primer rainbow.”
But, still, it was an El Camino.
And for Jeffrey Anderson, it was a project, that — when he had time — planned on slowly restoring.
Then came the war.
Anderson was sent to Iraq but the El Camino, along with his wife, Shawna, and the couple’s two children remained in Oklahoma. And he put his restoration project on hold.
Or so he thought.
Because while he was overseas, his wife — along with more than 40 of her newfound friends — would join forces to do what he couldn’t; they would rebuild his car.
•
Built by Chevrolet until 1987, the El Camino was Chevy’s response to Ford’s wildly successful Ranchero. Both vehicles seem to be a combination of a truck and car, but are actually classified as trucks.
And they haven’t been made for more than 20 years.
But that didn’t matter because Anderson’s goal was to rebuild the car and reconnect to his past.
“I knew it wasn’t going to happen overnight,” he said. “I knew it would probably take 10 to 15 years, doing it myself.”
So he began working and then, shipped out.
But the car stayed in this thoughts.
“I told my wife before I left that she would have to start it and drive it a little to keep it from deteriorating,” he said. “And she said, ‘yeah, OK.’”
What he didn’t know is that his wife had other plans.
Shortly after he left, she contacted the Pedal Down El Camino Club of Oklahoma City. From there, members of the club contacted several local auto enthusiasts, including Larry Pennington, owner of Norman’s Body Works Inc., and Floyd Kelley, an automotive instructor at MetroTech.
When Pennington heard about the project, he agreed to help.
“They told me it was a pretty straight, clear car,” he said. “That it probably just needed to be prepped and painted.”
It was an optimistic assessment.
“It was pretty rough,” Pennington said. “But I signed up to do it and I was gonna do it.”
Enlisting the help of staff members at his three locations in Edmond, Norman and Oklahoma City, Pennington and company spent “about three months” rebuilding the El Camino.
“We had to remove the body from the frame because the bushings were so worn. In fact some of the bolts had rusted through.”
When they finished, the car was a show piece.
The interior was gutted and replaced with black leather and enough chrome accents to please the toughest auto critic — even the silver paint was matched to Anderson’s motorcycle.
The rear differential displays an eagle and American flag; a new 350cc motor sits under the hood.
“I was dumbstruck,” Anderson said. “I had no idea that was my car.”
Using donated parts and the labor of his staff, Pennington’s company took Anderson’s $1,350 investment and transformed it into a $45,000 ride — all for a man they’d never met.
“Well, it’s kinda like this,” Pennington said. “They are over there sacrificing for us, so we can make some sacrifices for them.”
Pennington said he offered to help because he understood what members of the military go through when they serve overseas.
“My brother is a 20-year military member. And I helped him when he came back. I told him he’d been over there fighting for our country and I’ve been here making a living. We wanted to help. All my guys felt the same way.”
•
So just how do you return a serviceman’s newly restored El Camino to him when he has no idea that its been restored in the first place?
The answer involved some deceit, chicanery and a ruse or two.
In short, a full-fledged conspiracy involving Anderson’s wife, parents, Pennington, some military brass and dozens of others.
“When I got back, my wife picked me up at the airport,” Anderson said. “But she didn’t have the kids. I wasn’t too happy about that.”
Anderson’s wife told him the kids had “been a handful” so they were with her sister whom the couple would meet for dinner.
Anderson wasn’t too happy about that, either.
“Instead of driving home, we drove to Edmond, to go to some ‘quiet little place’ my sister-in-law had, supposedly, discovered.”
That quiet little place turned out to be a barbecue and auto show where Anderson’s newly restored El Camino was waiting.
After being led through the crowd by his kids, Keiran, 7, and Chase, 5, Anderson saw several El Caminos.
But none of them, he thought, were his.
“It took me a little while before I figured it out. Then I was dumbstruck.”
Instead of his “primer rainbow” beat-up El Camino, Anderson was looking at a shiny silver and black, ’79 model with new tread, chrome mags and a tag that said ‘vrynice’.
He also was looking at dozens of people whom he had never met, all standing and applauding for him.
“It’s great,” he said. “But what’s really wonderful are these people. How they all came together to do this. I could take or leave the car, but the people — that’s what’s wonderful.”
Since then, Anderson has claimed many friends. He went to Body Works to say thanks and talk to those staff members involved in rebuilding his car.
“What really meant a lot was when he went to the garage and talked to the guys,” Pennington said. “He told them he wished something like this could happen to everyone.”
Proof of that new friendship will soon be found in Anderson’s garage. Once it’s painted and signed, the El Camino’s original hood will hang on the wall, adorned with the signatures of everyone involved in its restoration.
Under it will sit Anderson’s motorcycle and the El Camino — the gift of a loving wife and several dozen people who just wanted to make life a little better for one soldier.
“We understood the sacrifice of people being without their family,” Pennington said. “My son is currently in India, serving as a missionary. I know what that sacrifice is like and, besides, I needed something to keep me busy.”
His dad, Jeff senior, drove one.
His granddad, Tom, drove one, too.
And Jeffrey “bought one to fix up” when he was 17.
The El Camino — sort of a combination truck and car made by Chevrolet — has a special meaning for the Air Force staff sergeant.
“I remember a long time ago, working at my granddad’s roofing yard,” Anderson said. “and he would pick me up and drive me there in his El Camino.”
That connection stayed with him.
The years passed, but Anderson’s desire for an El Camino didn’t.
A native of Southern California, he would eventually get married, join the Air Force and have children. His Air Force career would bring him to Oklahoma, to Tinker Air Force Base, and a home in Moore.
In Oklahoma, he’d find his El Camino.
“One day, I was looking around on the Internet and this guy was selling one,” he said. “It was the right time and the right price.”
The car happened to be in Mustang, for $1,350. But it wasn’t in the best of shape — in fact, it was pretty much dead.
“It was the guy’s working car,” Anderson said. “It had just about every problem under the sun. It was pretty much ready for the salvage yard.”
The windshield was broken.
One wheel was close to coming off.
Only about five of the motor’s eight cylinders were firing.
The quarter panels were beat up and filled with expanding foam.
The paint job was “primer red, primer gray and primer black.” Anderson called the color “primer rainbow.”
But, still, it was an El Camino.
And for Jeffrey Anderson, it was a project, that — when he had time — planned on slowly restoring.
Then came the war.
Anderson was sent to Iraq but the El Camino, along with his wife, Shawna, and the couple’s two children remained in Oklahoma. And he put his restoration project on hold.
Or so he thought.
Because while he was overseas, his wife — along with more than 40 of her newfound friends — would join forces to do what he couldn’t; they would rebuild his car.
•
Built by Chevrolet until 1987, the El Camino was Chevy’s response to Ford’s wildly successful Ranchero. Both vehicles seem to be a combination of a truck and car, but are actually classified as trucks.
And they haven’t been made for more than 20 years.
But that didn’t matter because Anderson’s goal was to rebuild the car and reconnect to his past.
“I knew it wasn’t going to happen overnight,” he said. “I knew it would probably take 10 to 15 years, doing it myself.”
So he began working and then, shipped out.
But the car stayed in this thoughts.
“I told my wife before I left that she would have to start it and drive it a little to keep it from deteriorating,” he said. “And she said, ‘yeah, OK.’”
What he didn’t know is that his wife had other plans.
Shortly after he left, she contacted the Pedal Down El Camino Club of Oklahoma City. From there, members of the club contacted several local auto enthusiasts, including Larry Pennington, owner of Norman’s Body Works Inc., and Floyd Kelley, an automotive instructor at MetroTech.
When Pennington heard about the project, he agreed to help.
“They told me it was a pretty straight, clear car,” he said. “That it probably just needed to be prepped and painted.”
It was an optimistic assessment.
“It was pretty rough,” Pennington said. “But I signed up to do it and I was gonna do it.”
Enlisting the help of staff members at his three locations in Edmond, Norman and Oklahoma City, Pennington and company spent “about three months” rebuilding the El Camino.
“We had to remove the body from the frame because the bushings were so worn. In fact some of the bolts had rusted through.”
When they finished, the car was a show piece.
The interior was gutted and replaced with black leather and enough chrome accents to please the toughest auto critic — even the silver paint was matched to Anderson’s motorcycle.
The rear differential displays an eagle and American flag; a new 350cc motor sits under the hood.
“I was dumbstruck,” Anderson said. “I had no idea that was my car.”
Using donated parts and the labor of his staff, Pennington’s company took Anderson’s $1,350 investment and transformed it into a $45,000 ride — all for a man they’d never met.
“Well, it’s kinda like this,” Pennington said. “They are over there sacrificing for us, so we can make some sacrifices for them.”
Pennington said he offered to help because he understood what members of the military go through when they serve overseas.
“My brother is a 20-year military member. And I helped him when he came back. I told him he’d been over there fighting for our country and I’ve been here making a living. We wanted to help. All my guys felt the same way.”
•
So just how do you return a serviceman’s newly restored El Camino to him when he has no idea that its been restored in the first place?
The answer involved some deceit, chicanery and a ruse or two.
In short, a full-fledged conspiracy involving Anderson’s wife, parents, Pennington, some military brass and dozens of others.
“When I got back, my wife picked me up at the airport,” Anderson said. “But she didn’t have the kids. I wasn’t too happy about that.”
Anderson’s wife told him the kids had “been a handful” so they were with her sister whom the couple would meet for dinner.
Anderson wasn’t too happy about that, either.
“Instead of driving home, we drove to Edmond, to go to some ‘quiet little place’ my sister-in-law had, supposedly, discovered.”
That quiet little place turned out to be a barbecue and auto show where Anderson’s newly restored El Camino was waiting.
After being led through the crowd by his kids, Keiran, 7, and Chase, 5, Anderson saw several El Caminos.
But none of them, he thought, were his.
“It took me a little while before I figured it out. Then I was dumbstruck.”
Instead of his “primer rainbow” beat-up El Camino, Anderson was looking at a shiny silver and black, ’79 model with new tread, chrome mags and a tag that said ‘vrynice’.
He also was looking at dozens of people whom he had never met, all standing and applauding for him.
“It’s great,” he said. “But what’s really wonderful are these people. How they all came together to do this. I could take or leave the car, but the people — that’s what’s wonderful.”
Since then, Anderson has claimed many friends. He went to Body Works to say thanks and talk to those staff members involved in rebuilding his car.
“What really meant a lot was when he went to the garage and talked to the guys,” Pennington said. “He told them he wished something like this could happen to everyone.”
Proof of that new friendship will soon be found in Anderson’s garage. Once it’s painted and signed, the El Camino’s original hood will hang on the wall, adorned with the signatures of everyone involved in its restoration.
Under it will sit Anderson’s motorcycle and the El Camino — the gift of a loving wife and several dozen people who just wanted to make life a little better for one soldier.
“We understood the sacrifice of people being without their family,” Pennington said. “My son is currently in India, serving as a missionary. I know what that sacrifice is like and, besides, I needed something to keep me busy.”
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