This is my father. Born on Friday, March 13, 1936 at Moline Hospital, Moline, Illinois, he grew up in Davenport, Iowa. He held a single-engine private pilots license after soloing in only eigth hours. He attended Davenport High School, where he met Patty Jean Grosskopf, who was dating his best friend.

After high school, he attended the University of Iowa and began dating Patty. He was in the ROTC in both high school and college, and was a member of the Delta Upsilon fraternity. After graduating college with a degree in Mechanical Engineering, he joined his brother, Bob, working for their father and uncle's company, Mechanical Constructors, as an engineer.

Mechanical Constructors was a Plumbing and Heating contractor focused on Hospitals, Schools, and Sewage Treatment facilities. My father had worked for the company as a boy sorting pipe fittings, moving into different tasks as as he got older.

As one of the bosses kids, crew members weren't always the most kind. I remember a story of when he was older and working with a crew on a Sewage Treatment plant. He was working with a crew on a deep ditch where a section of pipe was to be replaced, and was the last one in the ditch when when someone opened the valve on the pipe covering him with sewage. It was a funny story by the time he told it to me. I wonder if dumping crap on the bosses kid was worth having to clean it all up later....

Don left Mechanical Constructors and went to work for Waddell & Reed, where he soon reached the recognition as Waddell & Reed's third ranked sales person nationwide. He took ill with hepititus and was unable to work for a year. After recovery, he went to work for the Federal Government in civillian capacity at the Rock Island Arsenal in the Facilities Engineering department. His department was responsible for all construction and repair of any facilities on the island, including buildings, roads, levy's, and bridges.

As the story goes, once when replacing the main road across the island, two cement truck drivers were talking as they waited in line with their loads. One had mentioned to the other that the engineer wasn't using a gauge to test the concrete mix and only having drivers drop a little concrete on the ground. The driver to whom he was speaking, having delivered concrete to the island for some time, is told to have said, "Caldwell doesn't need a gauge, he can tell the mix by the way it plops." The first driver climbed in his truck and was asked by the other where he was going. "Back for some more mix. I think I'm a little wet."

I was really into cars as a kid and young adult, but my dad wasn't too interested - until I came home in a Corvette. I brought the car home, and he and I went riding around for a little while. Being a young man about town, it was time for me to prepare for an evening out. My dad asked if he and my mother could take the car to go get some ice cream while I showered.

At the crack of dawn the next morning, with no more than maybe three hours sleep under my belt, he comes into my room and asks if he can take the car for a ride. "Be back before too long, I still have to wash and wax it.", I said. By the time I woke up, the car was back, but he was gone.

As I'm getting ready to clean my car, up he pulls in a silver and grey Corvette. He'd been out Corvette shopping all morning. Within 24 hours, we had two Corvettes in the driveway. To add to the fun, a few of his friends had Corvettes as did a few of mine. It wasn't uncommon to see a half dozen Corvettes in front of the Caldwell house.

We had a couple of years to play with the cars before he died, just two short weeks before his 49th birthday. Mason on demit.