Page created by: The Thompson Family

Don Thompson, DT3 was born in Pueblo, Colorado in 1934 to Donald and Joyce Thompson. He grew up with one younger sister (Sondra) and was a proud Shamrock that attended Pueblo Catholic High School. Don was always a dapper, dressed to the nines with a variety of sparkling cars or trucks. He tinkered continually building wooden model planes, assembling vintage model cars, restoring classic vehicles, showing his Corvette, playing slow pitch softball, working in the yard and spoiling his pets.

He enjoyed all types of sports, but baseball was about his favorite. He was very proud to participate on the Pueblo CML slow-pitch men's senior team that won at State and National levels. Don loved seeing his kids and grandkids as sporting champions.

Parkinson's crept into Don's life with little things such as cramped and tiny handwriting, dropping keys, nicks while shaving and eventually grew into his right hand shaking uncontrollably. His dogs often took advantage and would crawl under his hand to get a free petting, but more importantly to calm the hand of their friend. As the shaking grew, his frustration increased as model building and mechanics became more and more difficult and extremely time consuming. He would cuss and fuss as he picked up that bolt or washer that fell from his grip for the 15th time. His Vespa restoration quickly became a battle between his stubbornness and reality. Small chrome trim that should take two minutes took days to install and resulted in multiple paint scratches. By the time he started the '66 Ford truck restoration, he became the delivery man running parts to the mechanic and body shops. The rebuild was looking great, but traffic accidents were becoming more common and his intense impatience jeopardized relationships.

Forgetfulness and age go hand in hand, yet forgetting words mid-sentence would create a giant scowl on his face and both hands would tremor. Some days he would laugh about his 'short circuit' moment, but other times were followed by a gruff fluster or far away silence. When doing things got so difficult, Don attended more sporting events, especially those with his grandkids playing. The game was only a couple hours, but the three days getting ready before and three days after having something to talk about helped his spirits.

There was often talk about new medicines, cutting edge treatments, physical therapy or even brain surgery, but it was always met with total resistance and the retort, "If Michael J. Fox can't even afford to get cured, what is MY chance?!?" July 31, 2015 was Don's last chance. Hopefully his network of mechanics, painters, body-men, bank ladies, nurses, dog clippers, pharmacists, doctors, care-givers, neighbors, kids, grand kids, great-grandkids, nephews, sports fans, beer buddies, family and friends can give someone else a better chance.