This week, I’d like to honor my grandfather—Archie Adkins. Archie was a Senior Chief Radio Operator in the United States Naval Reserve and also served in the United States Air Force as an instructor and supervisor in communications and air traffic control. I proudly display one of his Vibroplex morse code keys in my office as a reminder of his service to our country. On March 25th, 1966 he received a letter of appreciation and certificate of service which read:

I congratulate you on having completed 32 years of Federal Service. During your 16 years at Keesler [Air Force Base] you have served well as an instructor and/or supervisor in air traffic control, communications operation and instructor training courses. It is dedicated performance of the type you have exhibited which increases the efficiency of any operation. [signed John C. Evers, Colonel, USAF]

Archie died shortly after my wife Linda and I were married in the late 1980s, so my memories of him are both fuzzy and fond. He was famous for his zerberts that would send me and my sisters into a gleeful tizzy. He would tell us teasingly “I am the boss” in a gruff yet tender tone. Archie was this amazing combination of stern and loving.

We would visit our grandparents in Big Spring, TX, Home of the now defunct Webb Air Force Base. Grandpa would take me to the end of the runway to watch T-38s and F-4 Phantoms take flight. I can still feel the roar of the engines in my chest. I’ve included a picture of my sister Beth and me at Webb Air Force Base so you can see me with a gigantic pair of binoculars scanning the skies.

One of my favorite memories were our one-on-one trips out into the desert to search for arrowheads. He would take me into the middle of nowhere in the blazing west Texas heat and tell me to look down at my feet. Sure enough, as my eyes gained focus in the glaring sun, we would discover multiple arrowheads on those excursions.

And then there was our trip from Big Spring to Carlsbad Cavern in New Mexico. What a magical experience! I’ll never forget the narrow stairs and cramped tunnels opening up into a huge room filled with bright colors and endless stalactites and stalagmites.

My grandfather was also a “wanderer”—never tied down to one place for very long. To illustrate this, the story goes that he began his adventure into adulthood by hopping into the open door of a passing freight train and never looked back. After his military service, he traveled the world as a radio operator on commercial vessels and would bring home knick-knacks and other treasures from mysterious, far-off lands. In a fitting, touching end, at his funeral service in Lebo, KS, a freight train passed by just after his body was placed into the ground. We all imagined his spirit hopping into the open door of a freight car one last time.

So in closing, this is what Memorial Day means to me. Taking some time to reflect on the service and contributions to our great nation by those who were close to us and projecting that appreciation to all who have served—especially those who made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom and liberty.

Have a wonderful weekend…

A Special Memorial Day Muse

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