My Grandpa Earl

My dad emailed me these beautiful photos of me and my Grandpa Earl when I was probably Bethany's age. (I'm shocked at how alike we look, by the way! :) The things I most remember about my grandpa are:

His honor. The man exuded honor. Not in the pretentious way that made it all about him, either. He had a very selfless, servant's heart.

His hearing aide. I remember always looking at it and listening to the strange sounds it would make every now and then. Reading his accounts of getting shot at in WWII makes me understand why he needed this device!

His Readers' Digests. Everywhere! They were all over his house. And he got me a subscription too. He could always be found reading a Digest.

His generosity. He was generous, not only with his material possessions and finances, but also with his life. He married a woman with five kids! He also gave of himself by serving in the Air Force, and then later as a postmaster of Lake Isabella, CA. From his biography:

I became Postmaster November 1955. Changed the name from Isabella to Lake Isabella in 1957 when stamps were three cents and a penny for postcards. One of the highlights of being Postmaster was to help Loree McGuire stick three-cent stamps on the just newly-born Kern Valley Sun for mailing.

He told great stories. The next blog I'm going to post is his account of the final battle he flew in World War II. Now take that story and imagine sitting with him and listening to them while he chats about all his friends, alive and gone.

Grandpa Earl loved to travel. After he retired, he began traveling and didn't really stop until his death. As he put it,

Alaska two times, Panama through Mexico and the North East to Nova Scotia by Airstream Trailer. Back to Barth on the Baltic and Poland. Russia a week ahead of President Reagan. Vienna down the Danube River to Istanbul and England.

In 1992, he took my dad Mike, bonus mom Debbie (thanks for the term, Nanci!!), bonus brother Garrett, and myself to England with him for a reunion with his bomb squad. At this site are some pictures from a reunion there--not the one we went to, but the same place 10 years later. I remember walking along the graves there and wondering how anyone was keeping it together. To say it was "touching" would be a petty understatement. Very visceral, the loss of our countrymen while defending freedom.

Grandpa died on January 28, 2002. He was given a 21-gun salute. I wish he was still alive. I miss him more and more each year.

Here are some more pictures that my dad sent me.