Ten years ago yesterday, my dad's heart that needed a new valve just gave up, while he was peacefully sleeping. That's a kind way to go. He wanted to die with his boots on--active and living life to the fullest--and that's what he got.

To those who didn't know him, I have to say you missed out. For those who did, I would imagine that each one had a somewhat different perception of who he was--not because he lived some kind of two-faced life, but because he participated in life in so many different ways! For some he was their favorite teacher, loving a good joke, delighting to see an aha! moment in one of his pupils eyes, teaching others to enjoy and do some of the things he loved most--music, flying, debating, teaching and sparking an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. You didn't have to be around him long to observe that he was interested in nearly everything! He loved to talk to people about what they did and why they did it! He could carry on an intelligent conversation on almost any subject--having studied or read about it. Oh, did I mention he read constantly?! Rarely did he read fiction, but he could tell great stories! Instead he mostly read to learn. A lifelong learner and teacher, he had little patience for those who were satisfied with the status quo and had no desire to want to know more--about everything!

Musing with the family after his memorial service, one of my cousins said they thought, when they were young and "Uncle Dick" would fly in for a quick visit, that every one had an "Uncle Dick" who was a world-traveler who would fill their heads with his tales of his adventures! It was not until he was older that he realized how unique it was to have this "Uncle Dick." (Richard Lee King). Dad used to provide rides to soldiers from nearby Ft. Leonard Wood who only had a week-end to go see family before being shipped out. If he was anywhere close to family, he would fly into their local airport and make a quick visit before returning to pick up his soldier(s) and take them back to the base.

He loved to dream big! Fortunately, he taught in a community and for a superintendent who loved and encouraged his big dreams! Among them were building from scratch, with students, a radio station and then operating it entirely with those students, who wrote their own scripts and who broadcast a weekly show from the school! They used parts he salvaged from army surplus and had a variety of programs offered! Then he found a "link trainer" (a model of an airplane cockpit that tilted and tipped on a stand to simulate flight) and started the first high school aviation class. For real experience beyond the trainer, he used the Piper aircraft that belonged to the superintendent and his good friend, a local attorney. So the students got to have actual flight experience along with their simulation training.

He started a Drum and Bugle Corps (the Buffalo Gals) when few schools had even heard of them. He designed the uniforms (cowgirl outfits) and even made the banners that hung from the beautiful herald bugles they played. Soon the corps was winning parades and contests all over the place. They became a hit star of rodeos in-state and out! They raised money for their uniforms by selling small dolls dressed in the identical outfits the corps would be wearing. Moms made the small costumes and they were in every store window in town. Eventually they were able to purchase real leather outfits. Years later the alums bought the instruments and continue to practice and perform in parades in the southwest part of Missouri.

But I remember that he always encouraged any effort I made to do something--especially when it had to do with music! I don't remember exactly when he put a violin in my hands, but that it seemed to "take" and I soon began to love playing it! When I think back on the sacrifices my mom and dad made so that I had music lessons, got to go to music camp, drove me to Springfield every week for both Youth Symphony and Springfield Symphony rehearsals and concerts and lessons at Drury College, I am very conscious of great sacrifices they made to make sure I had those opportunities. Other than warning me to be careful not to hurt my hands (during softball season because it might affect my violin playing) dad always encouraged me to do it all! Mom worried that I would wear myself out. Dad just said, "Go, get 'em! You can do it!" I don't recall his every saying, "You can be anything you want to be!" as so many parents say to their children, because I think he understood that we all have certain limitations. But he was ever the encourager and always so proud of any accomplishments I made. I was sad that he and mom didn't live another year longer to see me graduate from seminary. God only knows how those things work, but I can only imagine that that somehow they know and they smile.

The legacy he left with students is beyond measure. I cannot remember how many times I've heard, "He was the best teacher I ever had!" Our oldest son wrote a beautiful poem about him that he read at dad's memorial service. "Teacher" it was called. After he taught in France and and Germany, they returned stateside so he could finish his PhD. They moved to Arizona where they thought they would retire after he finished teaching at NAU. But a wonderful opportunitiy opened up right here. I'm glad that the last 30 years of his life he lived near us and our boys got to know their grandfather well, as did his great-grandchildren. They still chuckle at some of his stories, as we all do. My mother adored him, even though he could surely make her mad, at times, and they frequently argued about the details of those stories! She always hoped she would go before he did, thinking that she just couldn't make it without him. And she only lived 80 days longer than he did, after celebrating 60 years of marriage. Life without him just wasn't the same. Ten years have passed more quickly than I like to think. One of my favorite photos of the two of them shows him laughing as though he was enjoying telling one of his stories and mom looking at him adoringly. That's the way I like to think of them! You've not been forgotten, Dad. Thanks for the memories! I love you!