Joe Mike and Becky Bacon came Friday and stayed the night.  We got caught up on things.  They are family to me.  Joe was a Viet Nam aviator, and was Garth Brooks pilot before he retired.  Becky is an RN, and stepped in and personally took care of Ken during Ken's final few days.

Joe is the one who woke us up in the middle of the night (4:00 AM) to deliver lobster he had brought us  from Maine.  And he had named them.  Franklin and Eleanor.  He was standing at the door holding an ice chest, and was dressed in full "pilot" uniform.  I don't know who he flew on charter to Maine, but was thrilled that he remembered how much I love lobster.  Even if I did get it in the middle of the night.  I told him that if he ever brought me lobster again, not to name them!!  It's hard to cook something that has a name.

Anyway, Joe told me that I had left out part of the story that I wrote about Ken landing on the postage stamp concrete that turned out to be a repair facility--not an air strip--because he thought Pete had done it.  Seems Ken had told Joe the story and I had forgotten part of it.  "Ken said he had a Snuffy in the co-pilot's seat that was trying to get South on leave.  So when Ken stalled the airplane over the concrete for that impossible landing, (it turned out that all the planes parked there had been towed in and it wasn't an air field after all--just a square piece of concrete with planes lined up on either side), that he realized he was going to have to get the plane out of there, so he told the young Marine to get out.  Reason?  Because I'm getting ready to kill myself getting out of here."

The poor kid had no transportation to anywhere at that point.  But Ken said he was more than ready to get out.   That was when Ken backed up into the building, revved up as high as the engine would go, and took off.

God watches over us even when we are stupid.