When I found someone else in “Speck” Owens’ room at White Oak when I visited on a recent Sunday, I asked Marjorie about him. She did not smile when she reported that he had died on Friday. He had been his affable self when I last saw him, for neither of us mentioned his recent loss of Hazel. Now they are together with their Lord.

We go all the way back to Tryon School days . . . but more recently at McDonald’s. Since I was away designing airplanes for some 40 years, I missed out on two generations of locals. I did not know until I read his obit that “Speck” had served in the famed 82nd Airborne (500 jumps!), nor did I realize that he had graduated from Fruitland . . . that explains how he could always ask the unanswerable questions to get us to thinking, usually about some aspect of morality or theology.

He was serious about his love of God, but not much else . . . There was a twinkle in his eyes and he enjoyed good stories. He and Hazel do leave a hole in our lives that will not ever be filled . . . except with good memories.

Jerry “Doc” Russell was a character I met only now and then, usually at veterans’ observances. He often gave inspiring addresses at them. I usually take photos at these, so he asked me to come up to Saluda and take pictures of his show there. It was threatening to rain, but we went up there anyway.

Sure enough, the clouds opened up in the middle of the proceedings. But that was not the only problem I had: the speakers all wore caps/hats and were looking down at their notes most of the time; plus, the podium was under a tree. I dutifully made photographs, but none that I’d want to share!

I learned of his untimely death in Bonnie Bardos’ column.

Gene Owens asked me at breakfast at McDonald’s whether I meant Alva Jackson instead of Iris? Of course I did . . . the sisters were delightful unmarried ladies, soft spoken, with ready smiles. Jeff Byrd has commented that I have a memory “like a steel trap,” but I am afraid it is getting rusty now . . . And I have to run my disclaimer again: I am not a historian as some have said, but rather a just a storyteller.

And while I am “disclaiming,” I need to explain that I write about Tryon environs between the mid 30s and the late 40s . . . I was gone for 40 years from ‘48 to ’88, so I make no attempt to cover that time period in my columns. Yes, I visited often because my roots are here. I had family here during that whole time; still do. Seth Jr. once commented in the Bulletin when he was its editor/publisher, that “Mr. Goodwin considers Tryon his home.”

When I took early retirement, I asked Fran where she’d like to live in retirement. We both liked the Seattle area when I worked there on the Boeing 747 design and later their supersonic transport, and my best friend from college lives there. Fran and all of my immediate family are from Texas; we adopted both children there. I was sincere in my offer to go there because I could fly nearly every day in Texas! And then there was North Carolina, of course.

Fran said that Seattle is too far from both families, and there were too many “strong-minded people” in Texas, so she recommended that we come to North Carolina. When she explained her decision to her family, her youngest brother asked, “By strong-minded, do you mean bull-headed?” And she replied, “Yes, and I am married to the head bull.”

I hope the above helps.