A Passing...
Early yesterday, my dad, 86, slipped peacefully away. It seemed very fitting that he died on Memorial Day.
He was the youngest of six children born to a college professor and a small town dentist at the beginning of the Great Depression. Always more inclined to physical activity than to his studies, he convinced his mother to sign for him to enlist in the Navy at age 17 following the bombing of Pearl Harbor. He wanted to become a pilot but a faulty color-blindness test eliminated that option and he went on to become a Specialist A, or Phys Ed Instructor. At age 21, while stationed at the Naval Air Station at Chamblee, Georgia, he was placed in charge of the funeral detail for President Franklin D, Roosevelt and commanded the honor guard which stood watch on the presidential funeral train from Warm Springs GA to Washington. (He's the sailor at the front left.) He went on to be stationed at Oahu, Hawaii, where he played center for the navy football team (no mean feat for a 5'9" kid of only 145 pounds!). Later, he served as the PE and Ju-Jitsu instructor aboard the aircraft carrier, USS Boxer.
He was a life-long weight lifter, a supurb athlete, competition diver, gymnast and Golden Gloves boxer. Upon returning to civilian life, he married my mom and began a 25 year career as the Superintendent of Morrow Mountain State Park, in the NC Uwharrie Mountains. From him, I derived my fascination with Nature and much of my creativity. He was perhaps the hardest working man I've ever known and for many years, worked 90-100 hours a week during the park’s summer season.
Of Scotch-Irish and Native American (Catawba) heritage, my father was passionate about the importance of family and kinfolk. He was gifted at making do with little and taught me to be resourceful, tough and brave. From him I learned to value and strive for honor and integrity, and to understand the meaning of personal responsibility. He was a gifted wood carver and an avid collector of tall tales and bad jokes, affectionately known to his family as "Philosophocles" for his rather long-winded speeches.
Since he died out in Missouri, near my brother, there’s little for me to do by way of "arrangements" - still, it felt important to honor him. So yesterday afternoon, E and I met up with our sons at the local Irish pub, and Waked the old man. I sang "The Parting Glass" in his memory, and we toasted him and told tales and remembered.
I'd been expecting his passing ever since our recent trip out to see him two weeks ago. He’d made peace with his life and family and died with a smile on his face, not a bad way to go. We’ll miss him very much. Early this mornning I awakened from a vivid dream, in which a aircraft carrier was sailing forward into a glorious sunset over calm seas. Although no one else was visible on board, my father, dressed in his Navy whites, stood at the bow of the ship, facing into the wind. His arms were thrown wide, his head back, and he was laughing.