William E. “Bill” Young
Nov 16, 1930 - Nov 10, 2008
As long as I can remember, he was there. If not physically, then in spirit. My daddy. The big strong tough man who could do anything, fix anything, without even having to look up how to do it.
With him, I wasn’t afraid to ride the ferris wheel at the county fair. My daddy wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. He loved me.
He wasn’t one for saying it, but I knew he did.
Son of a migrant farmer/coal miner, Marine Infantryman in the Korean Conflict (Frozen Chosin, et al), cement contractor, truck driver, dad, grandpa, husband, great-grandpa. He wasn’t perfect, but he was MINE, and he loved me.
In 1976, he had a stroke, and we would have lost him then, except that the stroke happened as he was on the operating table to have an aneurysm repaired, so the surgeon was able to contain it quickly.
I’ve always said that the remaining years with him were “gravy time.” Time we shouldn’t have had, but through the grace of God, we did.
I’m still finding out the details, but it seems he passed quietly in his sleep this afternoon, on the birthday of his beloved Marine Corps.
He’s in a better place, and pain-free, but I wish he was still here. I was going to surprise him with a visit on 11/20, after I sold my house. I mailed his birthday card this morning - he would have been 78 on this coming Sunday.
I had the best daddy in the world (for all his flaws), and I feel like the ground has disappeared from beneath my feet. He was the one I leaned on at family funerals. Who will I lean on now?
I related the Marine jokes posted earlier to Red Haired Girl a little while ago and told her that Marines tell the best Marine jokes. And that Marines are my heroes. She asked me why I joined the Air Force instead of the Marines. I told her that it wasn’t until I became older and studied our history - not for school but for myself - that I understood what they had done for this country, the sacrifices they made along the way, and the honor that they carry to their maker.
You’ll continue to lean on your dad, but you won’t really need to so much because it sounds like he taught you well.
Semper Fidelis to your Dad and to the the Corps.
Comment by Radar — 20081110 @ 1946
My condolences. Here is a link to something I saw in the NY Times last week.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/02/magazine/02lives-t.html?ref=magazine
The author’s son plans to join the service. He is under 18, so a parent
has to be there when he meets with the recruiters. The man from the Big
Green Machine (aka the US Army) and the Squid (IOW the recruiter from
the Navy - disclaimer I am ex-Navy) have been by already.
THEN the Marine recruiter shows up…
“Then came the marine. He was fit and spit-shined. “My name is Sangster,
ma’am. Rhymes with gangster.” As I remember it, that was pretty much all
he said to me; his pitch was aimed at Zach. “The Marine Corps will make
you puke, make you cry, and when that’s over, you’ll be sent to the most
miserable, dangerous, godforsaken place on the planet. So let me ask
you: Why should I let you join my corps?”
I opened my mouth to answer (“Goodbye!”) but was quelled by a sharp look
from Zach. “Well … um, sir,” he said. “I think I’m reasonably smart.
But I don’t work very hard. I want you to teach me to work.”
Sangster looked at him for a long moment. “We can do that,” he said.”
Sgt. Sangster lets young Zach try to become a Marine.
“Zach graduated from Parris Island skinnier but still recognizably
himself. After advanced combat training, he was sent off to Fort Meade
to learn to be a correspondent for military publications. He lived with
other newly minted marines in a barracks presided over by a man who
swiftly became the main character in our boy’s stories. We pictured him
as Louis Gossett Jr. teaching his charges to run faster and fight
harder. He inspected their uniforms and gave out punishments, but he
also took Zach’s temperature when he was ill and made sure Zach flossed
his teeth and called his mom. This Sergeant Purcell even encouraged Zach
to resume his interest in poetry. One day, Zach told us he ran 12 miles
in record time. “I was on my knees, throwing up, and Sergeant Purcell
was hollering, ‘That’s what I call a quality effort, Devil Dog!’ ” The
pride in Zach’s voice brought tears to my eyes.”
Why should I let you join my Corps? Priceless, Perfect and quintessentially Marine Corps.
Comment by Dave in St. Louis — 20081110 @ 2110
God grant us the serenity
To accept the things we cannot change
Courage to change the things we can
And wisdom to know the difference
Comment by Timmer — 20081110 @ 2345
My condolences, Mary - that is such a loss. But you are right - you did have him for that second chance, and that was a good thing.
Comment by Sgt. Mom — 20081111 @ 0810