Donald E. Osten

The last time I saw him was about 3 years ago at my cousin April's house in Wisconsin. Uncle Donald spent the afternoon playing sheepshead with four of his nieces. He won all of our chips! It was a fun afternoon. When I'm in Wisconsin again we'll play in Uncle Donald's memory. He said "ew... girls" when he arrived and Laura and I were sitting on the front steps painting our toe nails. That's classic Uncle Donald for ya. I laughed and felt like I was 6 again. When it comes to teasing us girls, Uncle Donald and his brother Jim (my dad) are the best!

My memories of Donald are limited to when he and I were older, as he was 10 years old when I was born. I remember him coming back to Wisconsin from Oregon soon after he defended his PhD thesis the summer of 1972. He and I were at the grocery store in Sussex picking up a few things for mother. We walked by the soda aisle and I asked him if he thought we should get some soda. He said soda has helegenated hydrocarbons and it was bad to drink. I never forgot that.

Donald: Top shelf piss and vinegar savored in friendly banter and belly laughs. Beautiful journey onward, Uncle Donald. -Bambi

One of many favorite memories of Donald would be the telling of the story of an "Italian Vampire" on the opening day of Deer Season.

Melissa and Johanna, Our thoughts and prayers are with you on the loss of your Father and my Brother, Donald. We will have a memorial mass said for him in our church. For some reason the following story sticks in my mind. I was about six years old when our parents went off to vote and left me in charge. I decided to check on my brothers. I went into the living room and found the twins preparing to give each other a shampoo, over the upholstered rocking chair. I told them that they shouldn’t do that; but, they ignored me. I then went into the kitchen where I found Donald in front of the refrigerator with a loaf of bread and a dish of butter that had fallen on the floor. He had a table knife and was trying to scrape the butter off the floor and back into the dish, saying “Bubby come home, bubby come home”. At this point our parents came home and rescued the butter. Uncle Tom and Aunt Pat