"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth..."

Well.....I simply don't know what to say.... For the first time in awhile I am simply stunned. If you read my last blog entry, you know that my family & I were very excited about Mr. Schiffer's recent purchase of a T-6 and parts to restore a B-17. I knew the B-17 was sitting behind White's Ford in Urbana and the T-6 was being delivered today. I called mom when I got off work and as soon as she said "Hello" I knew something was wrong. Isn't it amazing that you can always tell if something is wrong in your family from just one word? Anyway, I immediately asked "Whats wrong?" My mother simply replied, "You haven't heard?" At which point in time just about a thousand scenarios are running through my fucking head....... and explosion, a bombing, hell could have been a thermal nucleur war for all I knew...... "Your dad called, Jerry Schiffer is dead... He died in a plane crash in Montana...." wow.... there was a lot of just dead air during that phone call...Didn't know what to say.... only words I could think of was ......"Okay" "Well...." & "Bizarre".... The Lord truly works in mysterious ways.... This comes at a time when it seems like all I ever think about is death in some form or another....Either myself or a loved one.... Here one minute, gone the next....

So, for me, it has been a rather somber day..... Just kind of blah I guess.....

For Mr. Schiffer I offer this poem. I remember it being one of my first blog entries..... & I will post it again..... It is a poem written by a pilot.....19 years old, killed in a midair collision over the skies of Great Britian......

HIGH FLIGHT

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God

Officer Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron,
RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941


Rest in Peace.....