Editor’s Note: This article was originally published on Sept. 11, 2011.
It’s an older photograph, with a slight yellow tint to it.
Snug in a small frame, Carolyn Hicks runs her fingers over the glass protecting the picture of her children.
Just like any mother, she smiles as she shares a few stories about her family. But there is something special about this one particular photograph.
Her son Joe Dan is seated on a step with his brother Jerry Don directly beside him. Both had grins on their young faces, but Jerry Don had a slight mischievous arch to his smile.
Upon closer inspection, one can see a trace of childhood innocence captured in a moment. Jerry Don is tugging Joe Dan’s ear and smiling.
“You wanted to know what kind of person he was,” Carolyn asked, holding onto the frame. “I think that pretty much tells you.”
With the anniversary of September 11, Carolyn has grown accustomed to talking about her son Jerry Don – or D.D. as she calls him.
He died at the Pentagon during the terrorist attacks of 9/11. Carolyn never saw his body.
“It took two and a half weeks for them to recover him,” she said, looking down. “He was only identified by his DNA. We didn’t get his body.”
It’s hard for any mother to talk about the hardships of losing a child. But Carolyn perks up when talking about the boy who became a remarkable man.
D.D. was born on July 29, 1960 at King’s Daughters Hospital in Yazoo City. He arrived six weeks early and weighed six pounds, 10 ounces.
“He was a good baby,” Carolyn smiled.
At the time of baby births, the hospital would distribute free books sponsored by Piggly Wiggly, Stricklin-King Funeral Home and H.E. Gordon Plumbing Company.
The leather bound book remains close to Carolyn’s heart. With the title Hope of the Nation, it seems fitting for D.D.’s birth.
D.D. was a considerate child, one who often amazed his mother with his mannerisms and comments. Carolyn said he would say and do things you wouldn’t expect from a young person.
Carolyn was taking her children to the grocery store when she found D.D. had colored on the floor.
“I wouldn’t let him come to the store until be cleaned his mess up,” she said.
It was shortly after that when D.D. said he understood why he would get spankings from time to time.
“He told me, ‘you want other people to love me too,’” Carolyn said. “That meant something to me coming from a child.”
Even as a child, D.D. looked out for others. His bravery was evident at a very young age.
When snow fell upon Yazoo City one year, the children decided they wanted to sled down an icy Madison Street hill.
Overcome with excitement, D.D. and his two brothers didn’t notice a protruding car bumper sticking out in the street.
“D.D. lost control on the ice and was heading towards it,” Carolyn said. “Rather than bail out, he stayed on the sled to take the hit before his brothers would.”
The other two boys pulled each other off, and D.D. smacked into the metal piece alone.
“He had to get stitches that day,” Carolyn said. “But he told his brothers, ‘I wish you would have told me, I would have bailed too.’”
D.D. also had a knack for saving money. He already had a bank account in the fifth grade. When most children spent their money on comic books, snacks and toys, he had bigger plans.
Headed to the local Ben Franklin store, D.D. wanted to buy his sister a Bible with his earnings.
“The Bible cost more than he thought,” Carolyn said. “So they called me from the store to tell me he was writing a check for it. I told them he’s probably got more money than me.”
And then there was sports. D.D. was on the Colonels baseball team in fourth grade. As a fifth grader, he intercepted a pass during an All-Star game.
Although he was smaller than most boys, he had heart and proved to hold his own on any field.
Years passed, and D.D. began to make a name for himself in high school. Wishing to help his father at the family hardware store, he transferred from Yazoo City High School to Durant High School.
Selling bean bag chairs, he even earned the rank of Top Salesman at school.
It was also during high school that he joined the National Guard.
“He graduated from Durant High School on May 18, 1978,” Carolyn said. “On May 19, he was headed to summer boot camp at Ft. Sill in Oklahoma.”
For 12 weeks, D.D. endured intense training.
“I had got him a subscription to The Yazoo Herald while he was at training,” Carolyn said. “He told me years later that when the paper arrived, he had to do 50 push ups to get it. But he said it was worth it.”
The military seemed to be D.D.’s destiny.
“He used to play with those green plastic soldiers all the time,” Carolyn said. “He never wanted to ‘kill’ anybody though. He would just space them around and play with them.”
Although he was young when he joined the military, D.D. was in love with it.
“He never regretted his decision,” Carolyn said. “He was in the military 100 percent. He was 100 percent Army too.”
D.D. was even offered a chance to join an engineering firm with the military buyout program during the President Bill Clinton era.
“He said he felt like he would be disloyal to his country if he took it,” Carolyn said. “If he took the buyout, he would be betraying his country. He said he made an oath, and he was going to fulfill it.”
D.D. was disappointed that he was never assigned to combat duty as well.
“He was very patriotic,” Carolyn said.
And when he did come home to visit, he didn’t sit still for long.
“He would get you up bright and early to leave at 5 a.m. to go on some kind of tour,” Carolyn said. “He was a guide.”
D.D. caught up on his eating when he visited home too. Much like his birthday parties of his youth, he loved his chocolate pie.
“And he loved fried okra,” Carolyn laughed. “I fried okra once, and he ate it like you would popcorn. He just loved it.”
The last visit D.D. made home before his tragic death was one Carolyn will never forget. They celebrated a birthday at Riverbend Catfish House. And he helped assemble her computer.
Closing a few of the family albums and shifting through a chest of memories, Carolyn’s pride in her son shines brightly. He’s still her little D.D., her son and her hero.
“In my heart, I know he was doing what he wanted to do,” she said. “That gives me satisfaction.”
She takes some comfort in the fact that although her son’s life ended much too soon, he touched many others along the way.
And that he is still remembered by a grateful nation.
