TRIBUTE TO MY LADY BABE
My dear Lady Babe has left us and the world is now a sadder place for she was a part of us all and we are now diminished by her passing. When she left us, it marked an end to an era, a time that was punctuated with incredible highs of euphoria, at the birth of our three children to the abysmal depths of despair to the untimely death of our only son, George. She was the total essence of the complete woman, the quintessential representation of the American mother and wife. For 68 yrs, she had brought strength and stability into a marriage that was tenuous from the outset. I suppose we had married too quickly after my having left the Army and I guess I had not shed, completely, the carefree environmental ambiance associated with Army life. But we worked diligently to add stability to our married life and our commitment to each other became stronger with each day. My Lady encouraged me to continue my education, which had been interrupted by the war, and life became progressively better. We grew together into a solid family structure.
As in all marriages, be they of 6, 16, 60 yrs duration, certain incidents will stand out as reference points in the course of events. Some may be joyous and others sorrowful, some too embarrassing for reflection and others as beacons of inspiration. As you may well imagine in the 68 years of our marriage, there have been many hallmarks of service in delineating our marriage. But two stand out, above all others. The first occurred early in our marriage and the other near the end, like two bookends, encompassing our entire life together. The first phase that occurred early in our marriage might give you some insight as to the moral fiber and strength of character of this remarkable woman who was my wife. It has sustained me many times when I entertained delusions about myself and the direction in which I was headed. She became my tower of strength, my rock and the beacon that carried me along the perilous path in the reconstruction of my life.
She was not, at all, pretentious, she was content with who she was and all she asked from life was a healthy family with well behaved children and a faithful husband. But fate was not too kind, it thrust upon her a monumental challenge that very few people could come to terms with.
Our second child George, was born two months prematurely, weighing three and a half pounds at birth. He spent the next four weeks in an incubator during which time he gained a paltry five ozs. At this point in time, the hospital staff came to the conclusion that there was little hope for his survival and decided to send him home with a one in 200 chance for survival. They literally sent him home to die but the medical profession had not reckoned with the maternal instincts of a new mother. We took him home, but not to die. This young mother barely out of her teens and with another infant at home, was determined not to give up this struggling infants life without a fight, for if God was going to take her baby it would have to be through her. She committed her life to the salvation of this rejected bit of humanity mind, body and spirit. She nurtured and nursed this helpless young life. She became his incubator, her life flowed into his, her will became his will and with an awful lot of love and determination, for there was little else to give, George finally turned the corner and began to show signs of remaining among the living. Only his mother and God know how she did it for it seemed she spent all her waking hours at his side. I don’t know when, if ever, she took time out to eat or sleep for she had to feed him, every three hours, 24/7. But more than that, it was her life she poured into that tiny infant and through God’s grace, she breathed life into a child the medical profession had abandoned. She fought the battle of her life against insurmountable odds and won. This is the woman I married, 67 yrs ago. This is the mother of my children and this is the woman I love, admire and cherish above all others, beyond comprehension. George grew up to be a genial giant and went on to fulfill a commitment he made to himself to play his small role in the liberation of enslaved people in southeast Asia. After a brief leave, we drove George to the airport and as the plane taxied out to the runway, his mother turned to me and with the saddest voice, and tears in every word, said, “I am not ever going to see him again”. I felt the same trepidation in my mind but I couldn’t articulate those emotions to her. She needed my strength and now it was my turn to be her rock. George became a helicopter pilot at a time when the enemy was knocking down 100 birds a week. He completed 55 successful missions when we received the most terrible news any parent should have to suffer. George now lies in a quiet churchyard cemetery between two of his Viet Nam buddies in a small New England town overlooking the Farmington river valley where he grew up to be a man. His mother who gave him life and fought so valiantly to keep him alive, who has now slipped her earthly bonds, will rejoin her beloved son for all eternity in that quiet churchyard cemetery in that small New England town over looking the Farmington river valley. She has been my beacon, my tower of strength, my hero and my shelter.
This remarkable woman who did not know the meaning of defeat applied that same will and determination when I was deathly ill a couple of year ago. When the hospital “death panel” determined that I was too ill to recover and she should allow me to expire naturally, this woman adamantly said that she had not given up on me nor was she going to allow them do so. Here again, she put heart and mind to my recovery, and through her sheer will and love brought me through another crisis. When I relapsed, they called her at 7:00AM and told her to come down to the hospital as my condition had been downgraded to “poor” and that I was not expected to survive. Can you imagine what went through this great woman’s mind during the hour it took to get to the hospital? They had called the priest in for the final sacrament of the Church, which had infuriated her. Here again, she refused to allow these people to permit me to die and demanded that last rites were not to be administered. Today, I am alive and this great woman who gave so much of herself to protect her loved ones, now lies alone. She had no champion to fight for her cause. But even here, she did not go gentle into that good night. She fought every step of the way but she gave so much of herself that she had nothing left.
It was a quiet day in Autumn
And a stillness lay o’er the land
As the flag was neatly folded
And placed in her gentle hands
It is a quiet day forever
As George lays beneath my feet
And the tears that fall like raindrops
Will never cease their beat
Now George would have said to me
Dad, wipe away those tears
It is far, far better to have lived one day as a lion
Than a lamb for a hundred years.
It is now, with heavy heart, I will escort my Lady Babe to that little churchyard cemetery, in that quiet New England town, overlooking the Farmington River valley and deliver her to our beloved son where she will rest beside him for all eternity. God speed, my dear lady