Well, I lost another friend two days ago. Wayne was a nice guy and I knew him for 20 years. We were in Starfleet together. Hell, he wasn't even 40. I lost a new friend in Fleet, the C.O. of the USS Valiant around the turn of the year. And then right before him, Paula, my ex-wife passed away.
Of course I can't forget Walter, whose ashes I spread in the Missouri river after his final Archon. Rick Gale, who I miss for his undying friendship and counsel. Randy Wright, the first of my Kemper group to have passed. Randy was always a hard charger, but still. And then if I am keeping track, Hawk, way back in '05. Lost him right after I got my job with the Missourian.
But the first one of my friends I lost was way before that. On the farm you learn about life and death; circle of life and everything. Also, my parents drummed into me my faith. I have no problem doing seeing that done for their kids. Without it, they are like sailboats without rudders. If they don't want to believe what the parents believed in, fine. At east they have a base line. But I am digressing.
I lost my first friend, one that I personally knew-who I knew from Kemper, back in 1979. He was the assistant squad-leader of second squad, second platoon, Delta Company my New Boy year. He was a year ahead of me. His initials were the same as mine and for some weird reason we became friends. And that was a no-no. Old Boys and New Boys don't for obvious reasons. Yet we did. It didn't affect how I was treated by him or how I treated him. I understood, or was just too scared. I'll go with that last one. He was the first, non-relative I lost.
My faith has taught me that they are in a better place. Out of pain, or whatever the situation was. They are at peace and watching me. When my father died, to me it was just a transition. I know how my father was, what he would say, what he would think. I do wish I had more time with him because I was just getting out of the age where I didn't want to hang with him.
One of my most cherished memories was going to a Mizzou football game with him. He took me all around and taught me about tailgating. My father was never shy and knew just what to say or do. And if that didn't work, he had a boot flask of Jack Daniels. And while that was fun, it was the dinner later at Bobby Buffords. I remember having an 'adult' talk with him about the pros and cons of owning farm equipment to renting out the land. We were sitting by the windows, the sun was going down and the talk was great. He treated me like an adult, listening to what I had to say. I also responded and we had a great talk. Never before had we had such a talk, and unfortunately never repeated. But that memory will stay with me until I meet him again.
With Wayne, I believe that he is out of pain, wearing perfect wings. The last time I saw Wayne was at the Region 12 Summit in 2015 in Overland Park. I talked with Wayne once or twice after that on the phone. He was a super-nice guy.
All those who have gone before I know I'll see again. And I know they are watching me. Not all the time, well except maybe my father. Who I know will give me shit about stuff that I have done. I know what he'll say. Just like I can still hear Holme's voice in my head. I can see him in his uniform. I know what he would say; that goes back to all the things I have written about Kemper and how close you get to people. I just know.
Anyway, when people pass, it gets me thinking. I'm not scared of death. I know its a natural thing. The great equalizer. I also have my faith that there is something better waiting for me.
For a long time, during my childhood, I wanted to win the Medal of Honor. Not for the glory or anything like that. One; It meant that I had saved my friends. And that they were ok. Remember, this was before I knew exactly what the MoH was; comics and movies were my frame of references. The second thing was that I would be remembered.
As I grew and learned, the passion still burned. I still wanted to be the one to throw himself on the grenade, to stay behind to allow others to leave, etc. The obsession and passion to do that grew more when I met the men and women of Kemper. I can not adequately explain how much in awe I was and still am of them all. They are some of the finest examples of human beings I have ever known. No, not a one of them is perfect. "There was only one perfect man and he died on the cross." And they are not angels by any means, but what they have gone through to get where they are, are stuff of books and movies and legends. I am so lucky that I went through what I did with those people. There is not a one of them that I wouldn't throw myself on a live grenade for. Why? Do I think so little of my life? No, I am still attached and have a vested interest in my own skin. But I was the typical farmer boy from a small town when I went to Kemper. There were a few us that had that wide eyed innocence. Gullible. Naive. Virgin. Whatever you wanted to call it, there was a cross section of us there. Mix that in with the guys from the islands. Places where the sun rises on the United States. People who had never seen snow. Men and women whose parents were divorced and put them at a military school because they were so busy; too busy to raise a son or daughter. Kids from the rough side of the street. We came together and became a family. That's why I would do anything to save them. I had the good life. But I wasn't really living as I have come to figure out. With them I was the best version of myself. They helped keep me on track.
Being remembered; "do something worth writing about or write something worth reading" or something like that. I have tried to write some things worth reading and maybe that will survive. I doubt it. Do something worth writing about-those days are long over, Mr. Shaw is gone.
I know that when my time comes, the friends that are still here will remember me. Not all the time, I wouldn't want that. But maybe when they look into the night sky and hear an old song come on the radio, they smile because I liked it and they hated it. Or see something relating to Star Trek. Then my memory comes flooding back for a time. Yeah, that would be how I want to be remembered.
I will remember my friends in that way. They are never really gone as long as we remember them. And memories are like starlight; it goes on forever.
