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| EJ in Vietnam. Inscription on back: This is what I look like when I start off for guard duty. Notice my fail-safe back-up weapons system in my back pocket! (A slingshot) Source: EJ's personal collection. |
Most of these were friends of his I had never met, so I was calling, texting, or emailing them cold. But without fail they responded eagerly with warmth, love, and concern. I love each of these stories so much, each one aligning to themes of friendship, loyalty, and mutual respect. And also simply highlighting Ralph’s (and Ella's) love of life and love for those around him.
When Ralph’s friends responded with messages and photos, I would forward those to Ralph, for him to read, or as he became weaker, for whichever loved one that was nearby to read to him.
Here are stories that Ralph’s youngest brother, EJ, shared, which were read by their brother DJ at Ralph’s funeral on 19 December 2020.
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I remember one of the first times my big brother lifted me up. It was in Mesa, on our little farm by the canal. I was maybe four or five years old. He lifted me up and put me in - I think also with my two older brothers - into a cargo box that was in the front of the motor scooter he used to get to work and to high school.
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| Ralph and a friend on Ralph's Cushman motor scooter. About 1947. Source: Ralph's personal collection. |
Another lift came many years ago in California. Mom and I had driven to southern California, to San Jose, to visit Ralph and his family. Somehow we ended up at the Reid-Hillview Airport, where Ralph was the manager, chief pilot, and salesman for Caribee’s Copters. Close your eyes and imagine yourself as a passenger in a little Hughes 269 helicopter. You’re 10 feet off the ground, traveling slowly down the taxiway, and your pilot, Ralph, is doing 360 degree spins, one right after the other. That’s something you’ll never forget, and I sure haven’t.
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| Source: Ralph's personal collection. |
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| Source: Ralph's personal collection. |
Fast forward three, maybe four years, to the Long Beach Airport. My big brother is now the general manager of Southland Helicopters, a division of Hughes Aircraft. He’s overseeing everything - sales, maintenance, flight training, and a new helicopter surveillance program with the city of Long Beach, California and the LA County Sheriff’s Department. It was the beginning of what became a common site across the country: helicopter patrol by law enforcement agencies.
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| Source: Ralph's personal collection. |
In the spring of 1967, I had just returned from my mission to Denmark, so I quickly enrolled in the local community college, which is near the Long Beach Airport. With that all-important student draft deferment that would keep me out of the army, I got busy with school. Then I got a call from my big brother. “Hey Eddie, how would you like to have a job?” “Well, you know I’m in school. What do you have in mind?” “Well, it’s part time, in the evenings, we need someone to refuel the sheriff’s helicopters.” Wow! My big brother just offered me the perfect job.
It wasn’t long until my big brother asked me another question. “Hey EJ, have you ever thought about learning to fly?” How many people can say that their big brother taught them how to fly? Two years later, I’m 24, without a student deferment, 1A, and just received an invitation from Uncle Sam to report immediately to Fort Ord, California.
There are stories about Fort Ord. My brother DJ might tell you some, but I don’t have any. I know how to fly, and the army needs pilots. I signed up for warrant officer training and was transferred immediately to Fort Polk, Louisiana for basic training.
Bad news in my seventh week of basic, I’m told that I don’t hear well enough to fly helicopters. Good news: We’d like to send you to aircraft maintenance training instead.
Months later, after becoming an aircraft maintenance specialist, I arrived at a small airport near Saigon, Vietnam. It’s the weekend and only one soldier is in the company headquarters. He asked me a question: “Do you know how to type?” I asked, “If I can type, what does that mean?” “If you can type, you can help keep the company flight records. If you can’t type, you go out into the sun and you work on those aircraft.” “I can type! I can type!”
My brother DJ could tell you about being an infantryman in Vietnam, but me, I don’t have any war stories. That’s directly because my big brother Ralph taught me to fly.
Seven weeks ago I got one of those phone calls from my big brother Ralph. For some reason I asked him, “Do you know what kind of aircraft the Grumman OV-1 is?” This was the aircraft that I was trained to work on. We ended up talking for almost an hour. During that call I was able to tell my brother some of the ways he had blessed my life: I know how to fly an airplane. Because of that, the only hazard I experienced in Vietnam was eating at the company mess hall. And, in many ways in the years since, he has always been lifting me up, one way or another.
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| Inscription on back: The Grumman OV-1 Source: EJ's personal collection. |
Seven weeks ago I got to tell my brother how he lifted me up and how much I loved him. I get tears in my eyes every time I think about that call. And then I smile.
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For the complete series of stories of Ralph and flight - Airborne - see here.
- From thoughts shared at Ralph's funeral, 19 December 2020. Written by EJ, shared by DJ.
