Jill and I were inseparable during the second grade. I am not sure why, but we frequently got suspended from school. Fortunately for us, Jill lived just down the road. Some of my fondest memories are of us walking together to her home to find her Daddy in his garage working on a car. We would get a drink or a popsicle or a sno-cone and sit there and watch him make magic happen with his engines—he never scolded while I was there. Then, when we were ready, we would head over to play in the best, most fabulous playhouse in the world.
At that time, my own Daddy was deployed for the third time to Vietnam. While my grandfather was recently retired from the military and just back from Vietnam himself, it wasn’t quite the same. Dutch didn’t seem to mind having another kid around who might just need a Daddy on occasion, but didn’t know how to ask for that.
I don’t know how often he talked about his own military experience with others. I found that the few times we caught up with each other, he was still very aware of world affairs and how things would affect the average soldier/sailor/airman or marine. He never lost his awareness and curiosity about anything.
He was a bright light in his community and family. He is already missed.