Barn find.... today

No Tex, no obit, viewing or the likes. That afternoon while sitting on the edge of his bed I spoke with Joe about my thoughts on this. I told him that my feelings were to share my memories and thoughts here, where he was surrounded by friends who shared many of his same passions in life.

Aside from J's family and my own, we were just about all that were near... but from afar... his many friends here did make a wonderful difference as I spoke to him about all of your well wishes when ever we met up. Here we can make this sad moment into a celebration of a life lived, to what extent, that will be debated for generations to come and will surely be broken up into snap shots of a moment in time.

Joe made his final trip home to Kansas successfully and without incident. The funeral home there sent me photo's of him dressed proper for his meeting with his folks. A finely tailored gray suit, a crisp white dress shirt and my all time favorite tie, a striking change from the Joe I knew but what a proud looking man he was!

Friday as he was laid to rest, Kris took on the next terribly challenging and heart breaking task, a call to his girl friend in the retirement home Joe first moved to from his mountain home. Try as we might, work got in the way of leaving early to break the news in person, it could wait no longer. Both Kris and myself became quite attached to Zenda.

Barely able to break 5 ft tall on her tip toes, she was a strong gal who was the last in her families line. A lifetime resident of Boulder, she remembered it with dirt roads when it was still trying to resemble the high end of what a cattle town was at the time. As expected, it was as difficult as one could expect it would be. Kris left it with a promise that we would stop by in short order and spend an evening out sharing a nice dinner with her.

I have had time this week to reflect on which one of us did more for the other, Joe or myself, I am quite certain it is I who owes Joe the biggest debt of gratitude and Thanks! It is an ere feeling when thinking back far beyond my Father even meeting my Mother after the War, when Joe was the proud Marine in the jungles of Morotai Indonesia. Joe and his fellow Marines were there with orders to keep enemy forces away from the new hastily constructed air strip, the very one my Father was flying out of as a belly turret gunner on a B-24, at the same moment in time. More than once I thanked Joe for a job well done! The "Greatest Generation".... ya think? Can there be any question? Surely not for myself, nary a doubt in my mind!

Joe would not look kindly on me if this was the end of the story. I have yet only brushed on small points of his life's journey... OH... and one more minor detail.....there is a cream colored Red Sled that still needs finishing... if Jen ever gets off her backside and gets to working on it!

 

John,

That was one of my biggest mental struggles in Joe and our journey together. Everything in me said to distance myself as much as possible, thus allowing an independent man to live out what would amount to as much of a normal life as was possible. I wanted to keep my families influence to a minimum while still being present as a friend, but not a director or a "guardian".

In my Fathers last few days this became a topic we spoke of at length. Dad was a no nonsense aerospace design engineer, one who would speak up when there was something important to say or needed to be fixed, small talk was rare... except on the topic of Joe. With Dad and myself there was no such thing as an awkward moment of silence, that instead was simply considered a quiet, peaceful moment collecting thoughts on the subject at hand.

Joe touched Dad in some privately important way that he never explained to me. I was only able to surmise that it was related to a past event in his lifetime where someone that was special to him was left to struggle without available help or assistance. Was it something tragic that happened in the War? Was it related to the hardships during the Depression that happened on the family farm in Neenah WI? If it would have affected any potential outcome in a predictable manner, Dad would have shared and explained this to me, instead he chose to keep it private and take those answers with him.

Dad was in charge of his own timing, he didn't stop his medical treatments until he considered he had all his matters dealt with and things all in order. He considered this a wonderful hand he was dealt, one where he was in control and was able to finish projects and tasks he felt were important to see through. Why he never expressed thoughts or offered his guidance on matters with Joe, this is something I will never know. Between our weekend phone calls he signed in here daily so he could keep current on Joe by reading this thread. Instead Dad chose to quietly offer his thanks for the effort and left it at that.

I can only assume that Dad felt I was doing things related to Joe in a proper manner. Assisting when it was needed, being a friend just because, but not choosing a direction or pointing a path. What ever his reasoning, he expressed a need to know that I considered this an obligation that must be seen through to the end. Sitting on the edge of Dad's bed I assured him that our feelings were the same on the matter. The resulting smile showed he was comforted that what ever had happened in his past, would not play out the same this time.

Karen,

... any more than I can explain why I felt compelled to tell it in the first place, I dont do this, I never have! It started as a nagging want to make sure that some old folks that were important to me, didn't pass without their stories being told. Why it continued to the point it has... I am not smart enough to answer. The cost of the little bit of band width to tell it, with the hope it all comes full circle in the end... There are far too many questions I was left with on Dad and Joe's passing, those that to me still need answers. Maybe answers will become apparent as we once again fire up the restoration of the 330, maybe this will all fade into obscurity. Either way it isnt hurting anyone to tell it so WTH, as long as anyone has an interest, lets see where it heads

I no longer believe I am in control of any of this, not sure I ever was, instead it is in control of me! Yesterday was spent restoring the Lexus we gave Joe. The Shoe Makers Kid syndrome taken to an extreme, nothing shows ones commitment and admiration for their wife like doing the brakes on Her new car 50 (yah... no, not a typo, only one zero) miles prior to a failure, I should be flogged. Joe didn't trust the Park Position of an automatic transmission as an adequate method of parking the car, instead doubling up and stomping on the emergency brake as well. OK... no harm done.... unless the knucklehead consistently ignored disengaging it when its time to drive again. Given where Joe chose to build his house on top of a mountain with a several hundred foot cliff next to the driveway and garage, I can understand his admiration of redundancy when it comes to parking a vehicle you want to stay put. Life long habits are hard to break.

Joe considered 'warning lights' just a visual indicator that a system was present, not that there were problems needing attention. "If it is critical and needs to be monitored, they give you a gauge to watch, look at the Ferrari!" Choose ones battles, warped brake rotors can easily be replaced on a Lexus, it wasn't worth the argument. Joe's ever lasting influence in this families lives became vividly apparent when I took the heat seized mass of brake parts from His car, to the press to start untangling them. Pumping like a mad man on the press jack I looked up and noticed what was now in place was Joe's 30 ton bottle jack he used to lift up a side of the log home to secure and anchor it to the granite rock of the mountain.

As FBB has so brilliantly stated in the past, "Life is painless for the brainless"... I really dont want to know why a 30 ton jack replaced the 10 ton version in the press... in a Ferrari shop to boot! Nope, I am just along for the ride with hopes I can steer clear of the cliff for a while longer. Life and other more immediate needs did not permit me the time to get Joe driving his old Ferrari again, as I wished it would have. As hard a time as I have with thinking Joe was responsible for orchestrating this in some covertly brilliant manner, it cant hurt to ride it out and see what he might have had in mind. Knowing Joe as I did, this is a thought that frightens me a great deal!

 

I really is all good, Julia.

As trying as some of these times were over the last few years, I was always surrounded by some incredible real life hero's, the level of which will always remain incredibly humbling, and as those that know me can attest to, truly life changing for myself.

It would be very easy to harbor many regrets for opportunities that I missed, but neither Joe or Dad would hear of any of that type of thinking. That is not who these Midwest farm boys were or how they were raised, regrets only came about when something was not acted on in the best possible way you could muster at the moment.... and I seem to have been handed a heaping load of "something's" in the recent past!

I feel highly privileged to have been taught life lessons by the likes of these men, some good, some harsh but all of which has helped me through some difficult challenges over the last 3 years. To be able to express my gratitude for these lessons, face to face with my teachers... my regrets are few as I was honored with the gift of being able to do this.

Dad's American Flag, the Nose Art memorial plaque from his B-24, as well as Joe's US Marine Corp honorable discharge paperwork have a permanent place in our Cigar Bar Lounge at the shop. There is no sadness or regrets connected with these, instead just a small memorial to hold a toast to when we gather there with friends.

Joe's 330 holds the high ground on the loft over looking our Lounge area... with an empty rotisserie sitting next to it... the time is near

 

Yesterday I took some update photo's of Joe's 330 in its current state, the man on his 1940's Knucklehead he purchased after returning from the War, the one that near proved his demise when he thought he could motocross the lump and ended up spending months in the hospital due to the hair brained idea, and his favorite photo with Zenda in the cafeteria at the first retirement home. Kris stopped by Messa Vista yesterday to pick up his belongings, some of these were his favorite memories he requested be posted on his wall across from his bed.

Alas, I have been reclassified to 'Radio Flyer' status so I am unable to post photo's any longer. This is what happens when an old gray hair becomes the figure in the Net game of Whack a Mole. "Fading into obscurity" found this quicker than I had anticipated.