Guest Posts on County 10 are provided by contributors and the opinions, thoughts, and comments within are their own and may not necessarily reflect those of County 10.
March 28, 2023 was the worst day of Fred Hurlock’s life. On that day, Dianne Perez, his wife of thirty-six years, died unexpectedly of natural causes at one of the hospitals in Casper. Her death was a shock to all of us who knew Fred and Dianne well, and I can’t imagine the shock, heartache and heartbreak that Fred and his two children endured after that terrible day.
There are few experiences in my life that I have difficulty understanding and mentally putting those experiences in their proper place in my mind, but her death was incomprehensibly one of those. She was so active in so many ways. Her loss was, and still is, being felt by many.
The couple lived in the same neighborhood as my wife and me. We would often see Fred walking his energetic Australian Cattle Dog, Blue, around the neighborhood, but more often, we would encounter Dianne.
My wife and I retired from the Lander school district at the end of the 2019-2020 school year, and Dianne retired two years earlier. Unlike myself, Dianne could not stay out of the classroom. She continued to substitute teach on a long-term basis, often for female teachers on maternity leave, and in the short term for teachers who just needed a day or two off.
After our retirement, on our afternoon walks near our home, my wife and I would often run into Dianne as she was walking home from a day of subbing, usually at Gannett Peak Elementary. On days when the weather was pleasant, she would more often than not be riding her bike. She was just so dedicated to the education of our community’s young children and helping other educators who needed a competent sub in their classrooms.
One of her favorite activities outside of the classroom was cross-country skiing. On many occasions, we would find Fred and her on the nicely groomed ski trails found on our city’s golf course in the winter months.
Whenever we would encounter her, there was always a big smile and a pleasant greeting…always.
When I retired, I was done in the classroom for a variety of reasons, and I often wondered when Dianne would finally give it all up and start focusing on herself and actually begin her retirement. As it turned out, she sadly never got the chance.
As a person who has spent forty years with the same woman, I don’t know how Fred dealt with the devastating sadness resulting from the sudden loss of the closest person in his life. Support from his children and caring members of our community has helped, I think, but when I cast myself in his position, I would hope that I could be as mentally strong and resilient as he.
Just before our snowless Christmas a little more than a month ago, my wife and I visited with Fred somewhere in the neighborhood, as we often do, when Fred had Blue out for a walk. During that visit, he related a story to us that gladdened my heart and reinforced my belief in the inherent goodness of the people in our community.
It seemed an angel had been visiting his house each evening about six o’clock for the past five or six days.
On the first after-dark visit, his doorbell rang and by the time he reached the door, opened it and turned on the outside light, his front porch was vacant except for a Christmas tree ornament found in a decorative Christmas bag, depicting a partridge in a pear tree, placed there by somebody who was obviously fast on their feet. Puzzled but pleased, as you might imagine, he retrieved the ornament and brought it inside. Blue also seemed puzzled, as a ringing doorbell in the dead of winter, after dark, was not a usual occurrence for him either.
No evidence of who the giver might be existed, as no car idled outside, and with no snow, no tracks were seen on his sidewalk or in his yard.
At about the same time the next night, his doorbell rang again. And again, by the time he opened the front door, no one was in sight in either direction, neither car nor human, but on his lighted front porch he found another decorative bag containing another Christmas tree ornament: this time one of two turtle doves along with Dove chocolate.
Anyone who knows the Christmas carol, The Twelve Days of Christmas, can guess what happened the next evening. Yep, Three French Hens, one blue, one pink, and one yellow.
The day of our conversation with him was the day after the fifth evening. Five Golden Rings turned out to be five glazed donuts, which, when he described them, made me want to go down to one of our grocery stores and visit the bakery department.
As you can imagine, he was trying like blazes to figure out who these kind-hearted people could be. He surmised to us two scenarios. It had to be a parent driving and a child running up to his porch, ringing the doorbell, sprinting back to the vehicle and driving off before he could open his door, or it had to be a neighborhood kid who could easily sprint back home with no one being the wiser. No other evidence existed, and as a trained law enforcement investigator, I’m sure his lack of leads in the case rankled a little bit, but in the best way possible.
Suspects included a large family next door, likely perpetrators for sure. Or Fred said it could be someone in the larger community who was just good at getting away undetected.
By this time Fred and Blue began anticipating the arrival of this secretive person. Blue, from his dog bed in the living room, would look toward the door at about the right time each evening, anticipating a doorbell ring and a gift left on the porch. Fred, not wanting to spoil the fun of the gift giver but more curious with each evening, would make sure to let enough time pass to make sure the porch was empty before opening the door.
We didn’t talk to Fred again until after Christmas. On a crisp, clear winter morning, Fred came ambling up the sidewalk in front of our home with Blue on a leash, so of course we had to ask him if the secret giver had finished off The Twelve Days of Christmas and if he had ever solved the mystery of who this caring person was.
He answered in the affirmative on both counts, but it took some doing. For twelve consecutive evenings, a gift was left on his front porch in the aforementioned bags containing ornaments, along with candies or baked goods, with the last arriving on Christmas Eve.
Years ago, Fred received a symmetric six-point set of elk antlers from the widow of his good friend, J. Dee Darnell, a longtime sheriff’s deputy from Jeffery City. The mounted set of antlers now resides in his family room. On each of the twelve tines, a newly arrived Christmas ornament was hung during the holiday season.
The investigation into who could have committed these brazen acts of kindness ensued after Christmas, first with inquiries of the neighborhood kids and parents who said, “Sorry Fred, it wasn’t us.”
Not to be deterred, he had another kind-hearted family in mind, but after asking the matriarch of this family, he received the same answer, “Sorry Fred, it wasn’t us.”
But the lady of the house had an idea of who else was capable and had motive and said, “Let me ask around and I’ll get back to you.”
And she did. Turned out the culprits were a mother and her adolescent son. When Fred told us who had demonstrated such kindness and grace, I was not surprised. I was lucky enough to have two of the family’s children in my 6th grade math classroom at the Lander Middle School. They were excellent students, but more importantly, they were excellent human beings being guided by caring parents who understand how important it is to be present in their children’s lives, parents who understand the importance of providing opportunities for their children to learn and practice compassion and empathy.
In this era of political rage and social media self-absorption, knowing there are some children out there who are being taught that the world does not revolve around them, that acts of compassion and empathy are more important than “gotcha moments” in a congressional hearing or “likes” on Instagram, gives me hope for our society.
According to Theology, angels are spiritual beings, but I would argue that this story proves that even mere flesh and blood mortals can display angelic qualities if given opportunity and motive.