Within the past few days, I have had two losses within my circle of mortal acquaintances — and thus double reminders of my own mortality.
First, a cousin two years older than myself passed away unexpectedly, and then a day or so later a man whom I admired greatly died at age 100. His name was Bert Cornwell. I am still not “used to” thinking of Bert in the past tense.
In Bert’s memory, I cite the Bible verse “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” — Isaiah 40:31
Bert was a World War II veteran, an experienced pilot, and a longtime major in the Air Force Reserve. Despite his age, he still had much of his presence of mind, although his hearing was suffering. He could still recall training and bombers, notably the B-17, B-24 and B-29. He also later taught younger generations of aviators at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University.
Bert was also a widower. He lost his wife 10 years ago. Had she just two more weeks, he told me, they would have been married for 70 years. That is quite a contrast when I see so many of the people in my age range who have been in and out of multiple marriages.
Not least, Bert was also a man of deep and abiding faith in God.
When I heard of Bert’s death, I was deeply saddened. Having known him since 1987, Bert seemed like an institution.
As I pondered his passing and sat through his funeral, I felt as if I was reliving the deaths of my parents. It does not seem to me as if they have been gone as long as they have. They were of the same generation, sometimes called The Greatest Generation, the cohort that came of age and learned from the Great Depression and mobilized to stop tyranny abroad before its deadly pandemic could cross oceans and kill or enslave them and us, their offspring.
That was the generation that worked hard to create not only an arsenal of democracy, but also a model of prosperity that made Americans the envy of the postwar world.
In that boom time, that generation did its best to provide for us, the younger set. Were we grateful for their sacrifices and caring? Are we thankful for what they bequeathed to us?
Nowadays, as the numbers of Bert’s generation quickly diminish, we are casting aside the values we need — things like honesty, personal responsibility, thrift, giving an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay, and disagreeing without being disagreeable.
Still, it seems there is so much ingratitude and lack of appreciation of the hardships, sacrifices and achievements of the prior generations. Could we, our generation, lose everything — material wealth, values and our liberty — we have inherited? Do we simply take for granted too much?
Such is worth thinking about. Better now than later.
Bert, rest in peace.