The sisters, Edith and Prudence, each have specific memories of their father: Edith has happy thoughts; Prudence remembers his trait of "thoroughness" in everything that he did
As have I . . . a man of principle and a true patriot . . . I always wonder about his enlistment in the Marines in May of 1941; 'twas a valiant act, but what of a relatively young family and a still struggling business both of whom were dependent upon him . . . and he was off, not to war, but to anticipate a war with Germany that may have been inevitable, but certainly was not upon us . . . he traded a Laird & Company suit for a second lieutenant's fatigues and he only managed that because, at 33, he was too old for the peacetime Corps so he had to present special credentials: an ability to speak Malay . . . he had learned some basics from a cook aboard the schooner Chance in 1929/1930, but no one in the Marines knew any at all so he prevailed.
When I asked him why he joined the Marines . . . He, an Army brat and son of a cavalry officer who once fought the Indians out of Fort Huachuca, Arizona in the 1890s . . . Daddy's answer was always that in the Army many died due to the incompetence of their commanding officers . . . that did not happen in the Marines . . .
The irony of that statement was that in the island hopping campaign in the South Pacific, Daddy was G-2, head of intelligence for the Third Marines, and had to send out scouts each evening to ascertain where the Japs were. The scouts were young, 18 to 20 year olds, and often wound up wounded, or occasionally dead, if they ran into a group of Japanese . . . yet the intelligence was critical to forming the battle plan for the following day . . . one of his best scouts was a lad from Oklahoma who carried an air cooled submachine gun that weighed, with ammunition, about 50 pounds instead of a rifle because of the additional firepower it gave him . . . Daddy rationalized the dead and wounded as unfortunate, but necessary, casualties to protect the rest of the brigade . . . I cannot imagine having to do that and then to live with the memories.
I am sure that he is happy to have Babe with him. I miss her too . . .
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Muggins at 100
MF Sr. would have been 100 years old yesterday . . . old in human years, but not even a blip in sidereal time.
As a sidebar, I never have forgotten Adrian Berry’s book, "The Next Ten Thousand Years" wherein he spoke of black holes and the expected life of our solar system, estimated to be 9-11 billion years. We are around the halfway point at this juncture. Somehow it gives a unique perspective as to how insignificant man really is in all his pursuits, worries and even dreams.
But were the Colonel alive today, ‘tis my thought that he would not be that happy with the drift of the US. We are creating a culture of entitlement by the simple mechanic of the inevitability of gradualism . . . a little change here, a breach of a principle there and soon we will be swept away by the two demons of multiculturalism and moral relativism.
The jihadists need only wait; we are well on the way to doing ourselves in . . . much as most dynasties have in the past: Greece, Rome, Alexander the Great . . . by what measure are we immune from such a collapse ?
And yet this is a country for which Daddy fought, and ultimately died. Had he not spent four years in the South Pacific, it would be my guess that he might have lived well beyond his 74 years.
And yet, to me, his legacy endures: his stern morality, his unshakeable principles and his ultimate civility. He was the epitome of "duty, honor and country". He was far from perfect, nor are any of us, but I have profound respect for how he lived his life and what his contribution was to the world.
R.I.P. . . . Muggins . . . We shall soldier on . . .
As a sidebar, I never have forgotten Adrian Berry’s book, "The Next Ten Thousand Years" wherein he spoke of black holes and the expected life of our solar system, estimated to be 9-11 billion years. We are around the halfway point at this juncture. Somehow it gives a unique perspective as to how insignificant man really is in all his pursuits, worries and even dreams.
But were the Colonel alive today, ‘tis my thought that he would not be that happy with the drift of the US. We are creating a culture of entitlement by the simple mechanic of the inevitability of gradualism . . . a little change here, a breach of a principle there and soon we will be swept away by the two demons of multiculturalism and moral relativism.
The jihadists need only wait; we are well on the way to doing ourselves in . . . much as most dynasties have in the past: Greece, Rome, Alexander the Great . . . by what measure are we immune from such a collapse ?
And yet this is a country for which Daddy fought, and ultimately died. Had he not spent four years in the South Pacific, it would be my guess that he might have lived well beyond his 74 years.
And yet, to me, his legacy endures: his stern morality, his unshakeable principles and his ultimate civility. He was the epitome of "duty, honor and country". He was far from perfect, nor are any of us, but I have profound respect for how he lived his life and what his contribution was to the world.
R.I.P. . . . Muggins . . . We shall soldier on . . .
Death in the Family
Rickenbaughs:
Caroline, Kent and son Bart are gone . . . why do the good die young ? It is a tragic and devastating loss for the family, for the City of Denver and for all those who knew them in their mutliple capacities and roles. My last memory of them was at a dinner that we had at Paseo Delicias in Rancho Santa Fe. They were making one of their periodic visits to Pauma Valley and we agreed to meet midway for dinner. In their typical way they were early since the last time we had met at ancho Bernardo and they had gotten lost getting there and were late. Ever considerate of others, they were this time early for they had left time to get lost and had not.
That evening was typical of any visit with them. Kent was a gentle man, a gruff Westerner with an ever-present sense of humor and a self-deprecating nature. Caroline was upbeat about her many activities and their children. Ever animated, curious, adventurous and fun, Caroline was always the accelerator; Kent was the governor, a steadying force. They were an awesome combination, a joy to be around.
Caroline, Kent and son Bart are gone . . . why do the good die young ? It is a tragic and devastating loss for the family, for the City of Denver and for all those who knew them in their mutliple capacities and roles. My last memory of them was at a dinner that we had at Paseo Delicias in Rancho Santa Fe. They were making one of their periodic visits to Pauma Valley and we agreed to meet midway for dinner. In their typical way they were early since the last time we had met at ancho Bernardo and they had gotten lost getting there and were late. Ever considerate of others, they were this time early for they had left time to get lost and had not.
That evening was typical of any visit with them. Kent was a gentle man, a gruff Westerner with an ever-present sense of humor and a self-deprecating nature. Caroline was upbeat about her many activities and their children. Ever animated, curious, adventurous and fun, Caroline was always the accelerator; Kent was the governor, a steadying force. They were an awesome combination, a joy to be around.
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