My deepest-felt thanks to all of you. Yesterday was as about a bad a day as I can imagine living through but your posts made it easier to get through. Thank you all. My brother RTR made it into town quickly enough that all of us where with him before he passed.
Dad did 35 years in the RCAF, entering as an airman in 1950 and retiring in the middle 80's as a captain - mustangs are as rare in our military as they are in other western militaries. He was a glider pilot and taught, or arranged it, my brother and I to fly when we where just big enough to sit in the seat and see over the instrument panel. While he served, his house was generally filled with airmen and fighter pilots and the talk was generally hangar-flying or about home. He turned young airmen into men, men into friends and friends into a clan, a family. He was also a poet. To give you a taste of the man's wit, following is a poem he wrote and taped to his locker door as a second lock following the theft of his soap, towel and shampoo at the gym:
Ode to a Thief
by I.L. "Chev" Cheverie (1932-2009)
I've got gonorrhoea, pyorrhoea
seborrhoea, diarrhoea
syphilis and herpes
and another I can't spell.
I've got athletes foot and scabies
and the doc says I've got rabies
and a rash around my ass
that hurts like hell.
Shampoo and soap you've got now
so I'm leaving you my jock now
and dirty towel
and a handkerchief as well.
I've a nicely ripened T-shirt
and some socks that make my feet hurt
you can have them all
if you can stand the smell!
We're gathering the clan and there is going to be severe damage done to the beer supply in this country (Canada) over the next few weeks while we swap stories, hum and strum and celebrate the priviledge of having known this outstanding man. I apologize in advance to you fellow Canadians for your upcoming drought.
asw