• A first son, he was named for his father, so he also named his first son after himself. The world can always use another John.
• He would have been 83 today. His birthday didn’t fall on Easter this time, but Resurrection was always in the air as he turned a year older. He was blessed, like me, to have his favorite season at birthday time. He loved the spring—preparing the garden soil, and sharing his awe at the rebirth of each living thing. Although winter never kept him indoors, his mood always brightened perceptibly when the woods and river bottom came back to life.
• He often hid his sorrows, but never his affection. He could be fierce when setting strict standards of excellence, but his strong regard for personal initiative and the special destiny of the individual was always clear.
• He battled his demons, like most men—did the saints not engage, spar with, and confound them; did the Savior himself not find it necessary to cast them out? He silently carried the secrets of others, but held out his mistakes as lessons to those he loved, in the generous spirit for which he was known.
• A magnanimous man who put others at ease, it was never easy to see him as the lifelong warrior he proved to be. His dedication to country was intertwined with his love for his kin. He didn’t need to look upward to cathedral heights or forest canopy to connect to his Lord, but he would be at peace equally in both sacred places.
• We were very different types of individuals in many respects, but shared a similar temperament, for better or worse. While he was alive, I really had no other mentor. There are sides of myself I wouldn’t or couldn’t discover until he was gone. I would have liked for him to have seen some of those aspects.
• He is my namesake, and among those who are dearly missed, he was the great catalyst in my life. His legacy is strong. His influence will endure. His Clan will live long.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my “Dadbo.” I love you, forever…