Saying Good-Bye to Uncle H.D.

A wonderful family friend who's been my dad's neighbor since my dad was born almost 70 years ago died over the weekend. H.D. (H.D. stood for Homer Deihl, but he always went by H.D.) Burnett, or as my brother and I affectionately called him, Uncle H.D., died outside his workshop some time Saturday afternoon. He grew up and lived a field away from the house my dad was born in and next to his son Tim, daughter-in-law Judith and two granddaughters, Sierra and Cheyenne.

It's still a shock to all of us who knew him. He was 76 but hadn't been ill and would spend hours each day working in his shop, restoring antique tractors and wood working. He served in the Korean War, worked for a Ford motor company in Alachua, Florida and then was a rural post office carrier before finally retiring and enjoying what he loved most, restoring those antiques and spending time with his family.

My dad would visit him almost every day, and they would talk about tractors, life, the weather, people they knew, etc. I know my dad is going to miss him a lot. I remember my mom telling me one time that my dad hadn't been over to visit in a few days because he was busy with other things, so one morning, Uncle H.D. called my parent's house and asked my mom, "Is Amos OK?" My mom replied, "Well, yes." Uncle H.D. then said, "Well I was just wondering since he hasn't been over here in a few days."

My first memory of Uncle H.D. was probably when I was about 4 or 5 years old. Uncle H.D. had restored my dad's father's old John Deere tractor, which we named Putt-Putt. My dad reminded me of this last night when he said they had a photo slide show at the funeral home during visitation, and there was a photo of me and Uncle H.D. in the slide show with Putt-Putt. Dad gave me a box of my old photos when I was in Florida this summer, and I found the same photo last night. (By the way, I still have those cowboy boots, which were my first pair.)



The restored Putt-Putt and me.


Uncle H.D. worked for years at Enneis Motor Company in Alachua, and he checked out my first car, a used 1988 Ford Escort, before we bought it. When my wonderful but problem-plagued Plymouth Neon had issue after issue, he look at it several times and diagnosed the multiple problems.

When we moved to Tennessee two years ago, I wanted to take the antique bedroom set that belonged to my dad's parents and had been in a barn for way too long. It wasn't in good shape since the termites had made it their dinner. He and his daughter-in-law restored it to its original condition, and it's beautiful. He refused to let me pay him.



A photo of the restored dresser is above.

His kindness and generosity extended well beyond family and close friends. He would often fix things at Brown's restaurant in Alachua, and the owners would reward him with a warm meal and friendly conversation. He had breakfast at Brown's the day he died with Judith and the girls. My dad told me the other day that he built a set-up on his property for a friend with his RV camper to come and stay with a water and sewage hook-up.




We held a 40th wedding anniversary party for my parents in June, and invited their wedding party. Uncle H.D. and my dad's sister, Aunt Naomi, are in the photo above probably sharing a funny story or joke with each other, something they are both known for. H.D. was my dad's best man at his wedding. My parent's anniversary dinner was the last time I saw Uncle H.D. It's hard to believe he's gone, and I know so many people will miss him. I guess God must have some tractors or antique furniture that needs restoring up there in heaven. We'll miss you Uncle H.D.