"...because man goeth to his long home and mourners
go about the streets." Ecclesiastes 12:5 (KJV)
Solomon penned those words about the death of men and, if you turn your Bibles to the 12th chapter of Ecclesiastes, you'll find that most of that chapter speaks about the mortality of mankind. Not only does he talk about the destination of our souls as being the "long home," which in Hebrew means "eternal," in verse 7 he says that our "spirit (soul) shall return unto God who gave it."
I use the above paragraph as a preamble to my editorial today and I think that you'll easily see why. Yesterday afternoon I attended the funeral/memorial service of an old and dear friend, Bob McNally. In the death of Bob last week, we lost another of America's "greatest generation." Sadly, we've reached the period where there aren't many of our WW2 heroes left and Bob certainly was one of those - a hero. Especially to me and others who knew and loved him.
I'm going to tell you about my hero, Bob McNally, because he's now gone to a place where all of us are bound. It doesn't matter who or what you are in the realm of life here on earth, someday we'll all be going to our "long home" and, hopefully, we'll have lived our lives here in such a manner that "mourners will go about the streets." There will be many who mourn the passing of Bob and don't we all like to think that many will mourn our passing too. Just think how sad a picture it would be for someone to have lived their life among others and to not be missed or mourned at their passing.
Bob began his journey towards his eternal home on April 29, 1925 in Lincoln, Illinois. He lost both his father and mother at a young age and was raised by an older sister until he was old enough (17) to enlist in the Army Air Corps during the early days of WW2. He wanted to be a pilot, but ended up being a bombardier on a B-17 flying 25 missions out of England.
During those missions he accrued 3 Purple Hearts and other citations. He was shot down over France, made his way to the coast and was taken back to England in a small boat and went right back to war. I know that there are still men being made in Bob's mold, but in my humble opinion, they are far less in number than those of his generation. God bless them and may we never forget how blessed we are to have had them with us.
In some of my conversations with Bob over the years, and especially when we talked about his experiences during the war, one of the things I remember him telling me was how much he wanted to come home from it. He did come home, married, had a successful career in the pharmaceutical and insurance business and raised three children of whom he was infinitely proud.
I heard a beautiful song a while back, sung by a group called "Libera," a chorus consisting of about 12-13 year old boys from London. In recalling Bob's comment about wanting to come home from the war, I thought that the words of this song would be very appropriate to our thoughts here today. I just wish there were some way that I could attach the music to this editorial, but the words will have to suffice. Read with me the words to the song: "GOING HOME" and consider both Bob and us and our aforementioned eternal destination as you read them.
Going home, going home. I am going home.
Quiet like, some still day. I am going home.
It's not far, just close by. Through an open door.
Work all done, care laid by. Never fear no more.
Mother's there expecting me. Father's waiting too.
Lots of faces gathered there. All the friends I knew.
I'm just going home
No more fear, no more pain. No more stumbling by the way.
No more longing for the day. Going to run no more.
Morning star lights the way. Restless dreams all gone.
Shadows gone, break of day. Real life has begun.
There's no break, there's no end. Just living on.
Wide awake, with a smile. Going on and on.
Going home, going home. I am going home.
Shadows gone, break of day. Real life has begun.
I'm just going home.
Ron Covey
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