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Half a world away from where I sit all is quiet tonight. The stars shine down on the roof of my house as I type this and in a country half way around the world the dawn is breaking on a new day. My thoughts go back to a day 35 years ago when I saw my father crying for the first time in my life and my mother just stared blankly as tears rolled uncontrolably down her cheeks. The two representatives of the Marine notification team had left only moments before having completed thier duty of notifying my parents of the death of thier oldest son in a jungle half way around the world while in the service of his country. On the 35th anniversary of his passing I tried to think of a way to honor his memory in a manner in which he would approve.
My brother John was born for the outdoors and fishing was his passion. At 8 years old he would sneak out of the house in the dark pre-dawn hours with his rod and tackle box and pedal his old Columbia bicycle to the shores of Lake Quinsigamond to fish for trout, perch, bass and any other fish that would take his lures or bait. That passion never waned and left a great impression on me his little brother. He was my hero then and he is still my hero.
So, with your permission I am posting these two pictures as a tribute to him and by doing so I can tell him that I miss him, I love him and that he is always with me in my thoughts as I walk the beach late in the night or as I watch a trout gently break the surface of a still pond. After thirty-five years the tears stiil flow............................
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