There are those that think "you move beyond," and yet this another Christmas Season. You can see that never has Mo left his home, nor my heart. We were married on November 28, 1959,  it would chronologically be some 47 years ago but it seems yesterday. Never throughout our lives, his spectacular achievement as an Air Force officer, Regular Air Force rated, Strategic Air Command and then his long time goal, Air Force Space and Missiles Systems Organization, Program Director, Minuteman, rank of Major, and the respect of all of his peers, did I ever once think anyone else on this planet ever had or could have more than Mo provided me, our always happy home,  his two sons, and those always "happy steps."

Mo was on reflex [regular alert rotation] to England, Brize Norton, when the Cuba Crisis broke. His was the first B-47 to then touchdown on the flight line at Plattsburgh Air Force Base. Upon their return, slicing the carpet of snow as the dragchute deployed, and as it would slow and casually "roll" to park beside the cars of the wives on the tarmac,  as if always, bombays opened all the goodies to be unloaded.

Very Happy Memories. I will put some effort into what I would want to be his Memory. It will be very hard, there was so much about "Major Mo."

Thank you again, Teddi Alves, December 2006.

P.S. I noted some very moving sentiments on your site; may I add this? It is "AWAY," from James Whitcomb Riley and I found it among family mementos, a condolence to my grandfather upon the death of his wife  of complications from gall bladder surgery in 1935: I have always felt it particularly relevant to those of us of The Armed Forces:

AWAY
James Whitcomb Riley

I cannot say, and I will not say
    That he is dead.  He is just away!
With a cheery smile and a wave of the hand
    He has wandered into an unknown land

And left us dreaming how very fair
    It needs must be since he lingers there,
And you-oh, you, who the wildest yearn
For the old time step and the glad return

Think of him faring on, as dear
    In the love of There, as the love of Here

    Think of him still as the same, I say,
        He is not dead-he is just away.