Donald Ray Blake

Elvis has left the building.

Donald Ray Blake, 69(bow-chicka-bow-wow), of Keene, N.H., passed away on Nov. 25, 2021, after an impressively extended period of declining health.

"Donnie" (not “Har Don" despite his relentless efforts) was truly one of a kind.

A lifelong resident of Keene, Donnie graduated Summa Cum Loudly from Cheshire County Jail. His sense of humor carried him through life — well, that and police cruisers. Admittedly, he was not the most well-behaved young man but certainly the most entertaining.

Working with heavy equipment for years, he obtained trademark skills on the excavator. It is said that he could guide the bucket to stack empty beer bottles into pyramids. If you didn't believe him, you only had to ask — him.

Donnie was a CDL truck driver for Brattleboro Haulage for some time before being reassigned as a dispatcher following a DWI ("Dancing With Intensity," for all you kids out there). Due to unclear circumstances, he was relieved of those duties, but the heavily redacted HR documents imply that "25 lbs. of swinging steak" played a part.

He rounded out his "career" with gigs such as limo driver, bartender, car salesman, 7-Eleven clerk, and hot dog peddler at Don's Chat & Chew. He briefly trained as a Hardee's manager but plummeted from that position at a speed that rivals their drive-thru service time.

An avid game player, Donnie was a bonafide pool shark, skilled softball player, horseshoe-tossing marksman, dart-throwing fool, carnival game expert, and claw machine master. Always up for a challenge, he regularly engaged in cribbage matches, bickering competitions, and random debauchery with Glen Buckley (cousin) and Steve Abbott (cousin). And he always rooted for the N.Y. Yankees and Giants.

A rock 'n' roll legend in his own mind, Donnie was an accomplished belly drummer and teeth whistler. And if you never heard him belt out "Hurt So Good," did you really even know him?

Always wheeling and dealing, he acquired various odds and ends through yard sales, flea markets, Craigslist, and his band of merry men. Anything within fifteen feet of a curb was also deemed fair game, and for an old guy, he was surprisingly swift in the night.

When he wasn't tinkering away in his "shop" at Amer Electric, he could be found at Hannaford, Timoleon's, or Dunkin Donuts, entertaining with his quick wit and flair for storytelling.

As his life progressed, he became a bit of a curmudgeon; he had many health-related issues that stifled his ability to live the way he liked. His go-to solution was to complain about it and hope that someone else would fix it. But what he lacked in self-discipline he made up for in laughs and quiet gestures of kindness. He had a soft spot for babies and ladies; he liked to tickle the cheeks of both.

Donnie was born on May 30, 1952, to Janice Elaine (Buckley) Leonard of Keene, and—well, this is awkward; refer to Ancestry.com for that complex network.

He is survived by four daughters, disparagingly named as closely to sons as permissible: Devan, Daryn, Denell, and Jordan. Nonetheless, his greatest joy was the grandchildren those daughters brought into his life: Christopher, Spencer, Saylor, Zavier, Pierce, Presley, Cooke, Sienna, and Blake. They were enchanted by his Christmastime "Santa Claus" calls and captivated by the stories and jokes everyone else had heard a million times. They will miss their sleepovers at Grampa Campa's, his chop suey, and his fishing pointers. Still, they will carry on his legacy by referring to friends as Cool Breeze, entertaining folks with the sliding-thumb trick, and teaching children the "Skeeter on my Peter" song.

In addition, he leaves behind a sister, Dru Fox (even if she won't readily admit to the bloodline in public), and siblings through marriage: Janine Short, Lauri Blake, and Peter Blake. There are rumors of more, but with respect to privacy (or, perhaps, a gag order), we'll leave it at that.

His closest companion and confidant was his black cat, Fraidy. His neighbor, Joanne Goewey (more commonly referred to as "not my g*ddamn girlfriend"), also deserves special mention for her care and attention to him over the years. Regardless of his refusal to tell her himself that she was a blessing, his family is grateful for her presence.

He was a prominent member of the Fraternal Order of Eagles #1413, Cheshire Medical Center's Frequent Crier Program, and PornHub. His presence within these forums will be notably missed.

Donnie specifically requested cremation and a good-time get-together. The plan to satisfy those wishes was to host a bonfire and inhale the fumes, but apparently, the city and the DEA have rules. So, a New Years Eve super-spreader event at The Eagles will have to do. The details will be shared with his cousins, who just so happen to be the entire town.

In memory of "Big Dawgy," his daughters will plant a white dogwood tree (see what they did there?) at their family homestead in Keene.

In lieu of flowers, please remit any debt he holds with you, and to the vultures already scavenging his belongings, he leaves you with this:

A.M.F.