by Bob Walsh
My father died last night. He died quietly, in his sleep, in his own bed in the home he had owned for nearly 60 years. He was 96 years old.
He was the most profound student of history I ever knew, including not a few history professors. Once, while reading a novel at his house, I came across a place name I was unfamiliar with. I asked him about it. He told me, off the top of his head, that it was in Carpathia and had been the site of a significant battle during the Hundred Years War. He knew who was the general on each side, who won, and what the strategic significance was.
He did a pretty decent job of supporting his wife and three kids. He worked for over 30 years at a job he wasn't wild about because it had decent pay and outstanding benefits and that's what somebody in his generation did. We were never hungry nor badly clothed, but did not get to go on a vacation every year and seldom had a brand new family car. None of us ever got into significant trouble, possibly in large part due to natural inclination but also due in some part to being unwilling to let down or embarrass the family. He, along with my mom, were great role models.
He was a veteran (as was my mom for that matter). He tried to enlist on December 8 but was turned down because his vision, without his glasses, was quite poor. Later along the vision standard was reduced for persons whose MOS made it unlikely they would be in active combat and he was promptly drafted and became an MP.
He was a good man and a great father. There are few better things you can say about a man.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Not just a good man, but a very good man! Bob, I'm so sorry to hear about your dad's passing. He sounds like the kind of father everyone should have. May he rest in peace.
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