He was a strapping 6’1”, 210 lbs. when I met him. Sharon laughed that he had a short torso and long legs, while I had a long torso and short legs. Put together we could have been very tall or really short. When I went to his house to pickup his daughter, he would see me for the first time in Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt, no socks and worn tennis shoes. I’m sure it wasn’t a good first impression. Here was this 21-year wanting to date his beautiful 17-year daughter.
The son of Eastern Colorado farmers, he would make his career as a jig builder for Boeing Aircraft. He was a hard-working employee rewarded with additional income for submitting successful suggestions. Tours of duty in San Diego, El Paso, and Huntsville (Alabama) ended with a layoff after nearly twenty years. Given the opportunity, he returned to Colorado with his wife and their youngest daughter. On the back of a lot where his parents lived he started C.L.’s Workshop. For over ten years he would make a living repairing various appliances. When Boeing recalled him he decided against returning. He had found the life he wanted, closest to where he had been raised. In addition to the repair business, he worked with leather, wood, and metals. He crafted knives, pistols, rifles, and various novelty items. Years of visits from children, grandchildren, and other family members followed. Summers were spent in the Colorado heat, with lessons of honesty and direct dealings with people on exhibit every day.
Failing health caused the closing of C.L.’s Workshop in 1980. Now a family of two the Brinkleys moved into a trailer house on 200 acres of the family land about twenty miles away at Pritchett, Colorado. Grandchildren were hosted and entertained with cattle, horses, goats, and chickens. More than a few nights were spent in the Eastern Colorado desert. A man of wisdom and humor, C.L. Brinkley, my wife’s father, wasn’t one to interfere in his children’s family disagreements. More than once he would go into the workshop, or into the yard, so a disagreement could be finished.
Once I was irritated about Sharon not returning my seat to the proper position in the car. Finally, after several exchanges he said, “Chuck, is it really that important?” It really wasn’t. The trip became more enjoyable after the end of the discussion about a seat position that had already been resolved. Each of our daughters had a special relationship with their long distance grandpa. Sharla, our oldest, with long blond hair, was his Tweety Bird. She was the first grandchild. She still buys items with Tweety Bird on them. Melanie, our middle daughter would sit on his lap on the recliner for hours. He would play like he was going to “pinch her head off,” while she made choking faces. He would repeat this game with our youngest daughter, Heather. All three of the girls looked for men like their grandpas. They didn’t realize there weren’t more like either of them.
The last few years were filled with doctors and hospitals. The visits would change location and take place in the daughter’s homes in Kansas. Winters for the Brinkleys would take place in Yuma, Arizona. When the fateful phone call came at church on December 14, 1986, a wonderful group of activities, now memories had come to an end.
"The voice of parents is the voice of God, for to their children they are heaven’s lieutenants." William Shakespeare
"I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth." III John 4
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