Housekeeping Note: Max Whitmore’s Monday post will be published tomorrow, as he’s been outa town visiting his daughter on the west coast.
Many of us know men like my Uncle Cork. When their lives are reviewed it’s hard not to classify them as unsung heroes. From early adulthood on they lived their lives steppin’ up to the plate, doin’ what had to be done, never complaining. Cork could be the poster guy for Unsung Hero.
He’s very much alive, though far from well, as he’s recently entered the final stage of Alzheimer’s disease. I can’t bear the thought of visiting him. I’ve wept a few times just thinkin’ about it. The man was such a huge part of my life, an incredible role model.
Things I learned from Uncle Cork
Without him I’d of never had the experience of overcoming my abject fear of being killed by a bigger kid in tackle football. I’d of never played. Mom talked him into taking me to practice on his way home from work, which in fact was hardly ‘on his way’. At first I was excited about playing, as I’d already excelled in baseball, basketball, and flag football. However, once it became close and personal, a 77 pound kid in a 90 pound league met up with reality in a hurry. That’s when Cork told me the harder I hit them, the less it’d hurt me.
It taught me to face my fears head on. That almost always the fear was worse than the reality. That every time a fear was overcome, my confidence in general skyrocketed. Learning those things simply hadn’t been on my menu at that point. Though as a 12 year old I didn’t realize it, my life had changed big time.
Over the years Cork morphed into a sorta second dad, as Dad wasn’t around much after the divorce. (I was 7) But that’s another story altogether.
As a young man just outa the Navy, married to his perfect mate, our Japanese Aunt Shirley, he found himself in the workforce without a college degree, three kids, and one on the way. Mom got him a job at North American Aviation, the home of the X-15 rocket. She was the executive assistant (Secretary in those days) for Scott Crossfield a test pilot/engineer who was the first ever to fly the rocket. Scott’s also a story unto himself, but suffice to say Cork couldn’t have found a better professional mentor.
He told Cork to get his degree or he’d never reach his potential. Raising a family of a wife, four kids, and ultimately a mortgage while workin’ 40-60 hours weekly back in the ’60′s and ’70′s was no ride at Disneyland. 11 years later we all clapped and cheered like crazy folk at his graduation. He’d secured his engineering degree in quality control.
By the time he reached retirement, he’d been head of quality control of Douglas’s DC 10 project, Head Inspector of Ford’s tank division, and a highly respected and well known leader by example.
He also made one of his dreams a reality by becoming a pilot himself.
One day he invited me to fly with him in a rented one engine Cessna. It was so small, a two seater, that I think we got airborne at around 60 mph or so. Anywho, we’re flying around havin’ a great time, especially for a 12 year old, when he asked me if I’d like him to stall the engine. What did I know? I thought he was kiddin’ me — who would stall an engine almost a mile in the air? Um, Cork would.
Suddenly the only sound was the wind, and the only thing I could see was the prop kinda sorta still spinning, as if it was taunting me. I can tell ya it doesn’t take long for a 12 year old’s life to flash in front of him. I think I remember seeing a recent Thanksgiving dinner, and getting a single in a Little League city championship game. A few seconds later, when Cork realized I thought we were both dead, my belief in the Lord became embedded permanently as the engine sprung to life, and I realized I’d live to be a teenager if my crazy uncle ever got us back on the ground safely. I’m still not sure I’ve seen anything so beautiful as that prop as it resumed its proper job of keepin’ us alive.
Then there was the time when I was 17 and visiting my cousins in the summer of my high school graduation. Cork asked if I wanted to hit the clouds with him — sure! Let’s go. We took off from (I think) Long Beach airport and began to head southwest. He said he wanted to see something in San Clemente from the ocean side of the coastline. Cool, worked for me. It was 1969. (Hint)
We got out over the water and hung a left. And that’s when it got um, exciting. Our radio suddenly came alive with a distinctly irritated guy giving Cork the order to immediately change his attitude. Change his attitude? What, smile more? Um, no, not quite. It of course meant we were to change direction, now, and not five seconds later. As if to underline how serious he was, Cork was told this guy was on our ’6′, which totally confused me. He then instructed us to ‘look at your 3!’ And there it was. A fighter jet telling Cork he had just three more seconds to change course. Again, my life passed in front of me. A freakin’ fighter jet?!!
Seems Uncle Cork had wanted to see our new president’s west coast ‘White House’ in San Clemente. We’d entered restricted air space. Needless to say we instantly veered in the direction indicated by the fighter pilot, who was so close I could see the writing on his helmet. It’s hilarious now, but why I didn’t hafta change clothes later is beyond me. My theory is there’s a level of scared that goes beyond wettin’ your Levi’s.
When we landed, which was after the required buzzing of his Garden Grove neighborhood, I was advised it would bode well for my chances of reachin’ 18 if the exciting part of our day’s flight was omitted from any description I might offer. Cork had the ‘bad boy’ gene for sure, but he was still intelligently afraid of Aunt Shirley finding out about his latest airborne ‘adventure’. To this day she would only know if he’s told her.
The other day Mom told me he still ‘flies’ on the computer. Apparently there’s a website that simulates flying pretty realistically. He can’t remember how to get to the site, but when guided there, he remembers exactly what to do, and he’s in the air before ya know it. How cool is that?
Cork raised four kids, has been married to the same woman for 50 some years, and is loved by legions. His kids would make any parent swell with joy. His only son is now an assistant pastor in the church for which Cork was the Head Deacon for years. All three of his daughters have made him immensely proud. He’s constantly surrounded by them, his grandkids, and great-grandkids.
We’ll never know how many lives he’s positively affected. There must be an army of ‘em out there. He’s the real life definition of unsung hero. Probably the most unassuming ‘hero’ you’d ever wanna meet. His legacy will last literally for generations, as his influence on me and others has profoundly shaped our lives for the better.
One last quick story in parting. A couple weeks ago Mom and one of her sisters went to visit their brother. He kinda sorta remembered them — he goes in and out they say. When reminded of his days with Ford’s tank division, he regaled them about the time he’d called Mom to tell her he was drivin’ a tank. In his mind he was 16 when it happened. Nobody’s told him any different. His birthday recently passed, and he made it abundantly clear he wasn’t to be told how old he was. As far as he’s concerned he’s 24.
So be it.
Without Uncle Cork’s untold influence and example in my life, I wouldn’t have become the man I am today, or learned what it really meant to be a father. How do you ever repay that debt? In reality, you can’t. You simply do your best to emulate him, passing on the lessons he selflessly taught you. Though tears fall as I write this, they come through a smile. It’s not often one gets to know a real hero.
I thought the world should know.
I love you Uncle Cork.
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Go and visit him. He may not remember you completely, but he may remember the stories from long ago. In fact, if you start to retell them, he might finish them for you. And get him on that flying website to show you what he does with it. You might be surprised.
that’s what everyone’s been tellin’ me. Thanks, I’m considering it seriously.
Although it is hard I agree you should go visit – I learned more about my grandmother as her mind went backwards than I ever would have. The stories of days she had forgotten when well were amazing – yes it was tough – but I got to know a lot about why she was such a great lady…
Many blessings to you and uncle Cork!
BG. Cork is a great man! He also helped me (with a lot of teasing) when my dad left. I was 10 years old and when I look back on photos from that time, Cork was right, I did look goofy with long hair!
Thanks for the post!
oldvw — He was being kind.
Thanks Thesa — just the flying stories I haven’t heard yet would be worth it.
Thanks so much, Susie.
Just like oldvw, who I think is my brother, after my dad and mom split up, there was a time when our dad was not around and Uncle Corky came by to visit. On one visit, he took me for a drive and basically told me that I needed to man-up and not give my mom a bad time (I blamed her for everything) and that I should expect to be expected to do things above my pay grade. At the time, he pissed me off–I mean, how dare he tell me I had to do more when I was already going to school six hours a day and working at night after school and on Saturdays running my own business. But in hindsight, he was teaching me that we sometimes are called to raise ourselves above ourselves and I look back at that drive as one that prepared me for dealing with real life. On another occasion, we were swimming the pool and he grabbed me and took me down to the bottom of the pool, his arm wrapped around me in a way that I knew I better just trust him. When I was running out of air and beginning to panic, he stayed down just a few seconds longer before coming up. I was spittin’ mad! But again, he wasn’t being mean–I don’t think Uncle Corky has a mean bone in his body–but he was, at a time I needed it, showing me what I was really cabable of doing if I just didn’t get sucked in by my self-created fear. I haven’t kept up with Uncle Corky and Aunt Shirley much over the years, but recently he’s been on my mind and in my daily prayers. I send good memories and blessings to him, Aunt Shirley, the cousins and the rest of the Loves.
What a great story and tribute to a great man. You just made my day!
It is worth it to visit. I know him as Corky.Cork or Corky,he is indeed a very special man.
He used to give blood often. Also helped a child that needed round the clock therapy,to recall a few.Evie
I had an Uncle Cork, he was my Great Uncle Roy. He and my Aunt Gwynne were surrogate grandparents of sorts, since they lived down the street.
Thank you for letting us know your Uncle Cork. He is a good man.
Thanks Craig. Sounds like you had folks step up for you too.
As one of his daughters, (his oldest), I am amazed and proud as I read what has been written about my Dad. You see, to me, he was just a Dad doing what he had to do for his family.
Thank you for your tribute! And I will agree with the many that commented that a visit does help. He may not remember you at first, but once you share some of the flying stories, he will come alive with his memories! As sad as it is to see him this way, you may find it a blessing rather than a “wow, wish I woulda done it sooner” moment. With much love, Sha Sha
Hey Sha Sha! — I’m gonna figure out a day, and come up. Thanks so much. Corky has spent his life making a huge difference in peoples’ lives.
Family members you’ve thought you’ve known your whole life end up being novels of mystery that beg to be read in whole and finished in due time with no rush implied.
In my short experience with life I have found that, like a novel, our elders when on the homestretch have much more to give us in those last months, weeks, and days combined then we have learned from them our entire lives.
I urge you to spend as much time as possible with your Uncle Cork, no matter how hard it is, for two reasons. The first and most important is the fact that you will learn more about him and from him now than you ever learned before. Secondly, you don’t ever want to regret not having visited for the rest of your own life.
Although it might seem to be a bit “out of your way”, just as your Mom had described his dropping you off in the past, and uncomfortable at times, it is always worth the trip – just as you should know now.
I’ll pray for you buddy. Keep your chin up because you are our Uncle Cork via this blog, telephone calls, and emails. God bless.
Thanks Josh, I appreciate your obviously heartfelt sentiments. I’ve decided to visit him very soon.
I would like to visit Corky, too. Let me know when you plan on going to visit him, Jeff, and, if you want, I’ll join you if I can.
Works for me!
*claps* The measure of a full life isn’t money, gold, silver, houses or any of that stuff – it’s posts like this, memories and imprints that were heavy enough to leave one hell of a mark on the people they touched. I already know he’s proud of you – and we are too.
And go visit him. I had the same issue with my grandmother – major stroke in her case. She’s not the same person, but feeling those fingers curl around my hand … yeah, that’s my Gram.
You really amaze me, Jeff – you’re one of the most fearless people I know, very bold and forward moving. I just wanted to be part of the ‘world’ and honor Uncle Cork. Like another commenter said above me – for us, you’re pretty much Uncle Cork too. I know I’ve been blessed with lots of advice from you just over the brief time we’ve met on Twitter, and I’ve become a better, stronger person from it. Thank you.
Isa
Hey Isa! You’ve made my night. It’s so good of you to talk with me about this. I do plan to see him, and soon. In fact, one of my favorite cousins wants to be there too. How cool is that?
Thanks again — your advice and experience are much appreciated.
Jeff,
This is a great tribute to Corky. I am Corky’s only daughter-in-law. He used to tease me and tell me I was his favorite daughter-in-law. Even though I see him quite often, I miss him! He truly is a great man. He and mom have embraced me as one of their own. I will never forget that!
Yes….You should come and visit him.
You have painted pictures of my brother I can visualize and cherish. Thank you, Jeff. When we were kids, I always seemed to be where he didn’t want me to be. Then as we became adults, that changed. We became good friends. I always looked up to him and was proud to be his little sister. I would go with you and Tom if I didn’t live so far away. My love to Corky goes with you.