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My wife and I flew to Anchorage last weekend to attend a birthday party. I first met Dick shortly after I retired from the Air Force and accepted a job opportunity in Alaska. I finished the required training to become Certified Financial Planner and moved into my new office on Muldoon Street in Anchorage. Dick worked down the hall, and we soon discovered a shared love of flying airplanes. We soon became friends, and he volunteered to be my instructor to obtain my private pilot’s license.
As our friendship grew, Dick became aware that we had no family close by. He has six sons, and each of them has a sister, so not being with family was a foreign concept to him. His answer was to adopt us, and we became part of his extended family. Dick owned a hangar and a small fleet of planes on a small airport in Birchwood, Alaska. Daughter Ellie was the scheduler; and as part of the family, I was assigned to fly the Cessna 150 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. As I became aware that the duties of a financial planner included making myself billable, flying the family 150 allowed me to keep my sanity. I returned to Eastern Washington after three years, and was gratified to know that Dick still considered us part of his family.
Even back then, Dick was well known as a unique character and became even more so after his wife passed away. He sold his house and built a new hanger with an apartment above the shop. It is the ultimate man cave. Over the years, he crashed a few of his planes and had two bad motorcycle accidents resulting in breaking his back and 21 ribs. He considers those incidents as part of life. Much of his family has moved out of Alaska, and he tries to visit every couple years. He rides his motorcycle down the Alcan Highway and makes a circuit of Montana, Washington and Oregon before riding back north.
He stopped to visit last year and plans to be back again in late July. One of his son’s gave him a shirt that reads, “If you haven’t grown up by 90, you never will.” -- I hope he never does.
When I received the invitation to the party last month, there was no way that I would miss it. I was gratified to find that I was still considered part of the family. Charlie came up from Mexico, Joe from Oregon, Ellie’s daughters and Bob now live in Montana.
We were the ones who flew up from Eastern Washington. I was a little apprehensive that I wouldn’t know anyone there, but as family does, we picked up where we left off over three decades ago.
The theme of his ninetieth birthday party last week was Faith, Family and Friends. Several years ago, one of Dick’s grandchildren asked if he was rich.
Before he could answer, his wife said, “We have faith, family, and friends. You can’t get richer than that.” It became the family motto and is a good motto to live by.
FRANK WATSON IS A RETIRED AIR FORCE COLONEL AND LONG-TIME RESIDENT OF EASTERN WASHINGTON. HE HAS BEEN A FREE-LANCE COLUMNIST FOR OVER 20 YEARS.
