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I had little idea that he was from a small town in Kansas when I first met him. I just knew he had his Ph.D. in entomology and was a tenured professor at Kansas State University. He was just returning from an extended stay in Mexico where he taught short courses on protecting stored grain from a specific moth that tended to infest it. The short course was sponsored by Aid to International Development. That is all I knew.

As it turns out I had no idea that Bob was so much more than is vitae could reveal. A member of what has been called the “Greatest Generation,” Bob grew up in what is now a wide gap in the highway, a small town that has long grown past its glory when it was a vibrant, small farming community in east central Kansas. Greeley Kansas is not remembered for much but from those humble beginnings, Robert B. Mills emerged and would become, in my opinion, the greatest man I have ever met.

Bob’s meager beginnings gave little indication of the way he would make a difference with his life. As a young man he worked with his father and brother on a rented farm where each year they produced barely enough to feed their family. After his brother Rex’s untimely death, due to appendicitis, Bob’s mother was institutionalized following what was called “nervous exhaustion.” Bob’s older sister provided him with the love and support a young boy needs during adolescence, something for which he expressed gratitude for the rest of his life.

Someone once said that “time is an illusion, timing is an art.” I am not sure any of us are in such command of the time in which we come of age but clearly Bob’s timing was exquisite. Deciding that driving a truck for a local grain storage facility wouldn’t lead to much, especially if he wanted to convince his teenage love Mary that marrying him wouldn’t lead to disaster! Instead, since during those months, WWII was closing in on America, he went with a friend to the recruiting station and joined the Navy. His timing was perfect.

It wasn’t long until his superiors noticed Bob’s deep intellect and leadership skills. Through a series of events, Bob was sent with his new bride Mary, to Pensacola Florida as a pilot-in-training at the Naval Aviator School. Bob admitted to me later that it was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. His flight instructor was not a patient man and he spoke to Bob in aggressive and profane ways. He once said to me “I would have quit the training if it hadn’t been for Mary.” As her encouragement boosted the young officer, Bob graduated and was awarded his wings. He was now a Navy Pilot just as the war in the Pacific was igniting.

There is much to add to his story but for the sake of brevity let it suffice to say that Bob used the GI Bill after the Navy to go to college. He did that several times. First he went to KSU to get his bachelor’s degree that led to a brief career as a biology teacher in high school. He returned to school and was awarded a Master’s Degree from the University of Colorado, and finally he studied, did research and wrote his dissertation at KSU and received his Ph.D. in entomology. Following his academic pursuits he became a tenured professor at K State and served in the Entomology department for nearly thirty years.

Today I saw where Bob’s life changed. I walked on the same ground that he had traversed eighty years ago. I saw planes land and take off, in much the same way they had when Bob was training. I saw airplanes that had not only been flown in WWll but also in all the other wars that the US has fought in during both the 20th and 21st century. It was all interesting but looking through the museum I was struck with something more important.

It could be argued that the “Greatest Generation” knew sacrifice, suffering, honor and duty more than the subsequent generations that followed. I hesitate to make such sweeping generalizations. But I do know one man that embodied those qualities. It is easy to make heroes out of those who are no longer among us, overlooking their challenges and mistakes. Bob was not a perfect man but he was great. The greatest man I have ever known. Today I saw where the dreams began. Those dreams led to his research that arguably saved hundreds of thousands of lives in third world countries susceptible to famine and pestilence. That is enough to include him among the giants that have walked among us. But there is one indication that he left us that shows where Bob gives the credit for his formation as a husband, father, father-in-law, grandfather and now great-grandfather. It’s a simple statement that is etched on the grave marker where he was laid to rest. It says, “Robert B. Mills, Navy Pilot.” Today I saw where the dream was realized.

Until next time,

Darrel+

I just turned sixty-three. It’s odd to type that. I once thought that sixty-three would be a blip on the calendar. Nothing here to see, just move on. But I retired last year, right after my birthday. So this past year has had a surreal feel about it. I kept thinking there is something I should be doing. I worked for decades upon decades. It’s hard to break an old habit, like getting up at the break of dawn to push, push, and push some more. It is all different now.

I never imagined I would retire so early. My original plan was to continue on until I was seventy-two. Then the Episcopal Church would pull the plug because seventy-two is the mandatory retirement age. I wanted to go strong, keep preaching, keep learning, keep teaching, keep leading and keep pushing. Interestingly enough, I now look back and wonder why I felt such urgency.

What was my motivation? I would have denied this a couple of years ago but I now know it to be the truth: I was motivated to excel because of my ego. I wanted to make a difference not to please God or even grow the church. I wanted to be known. I wanted significance. I wanted to be a difference maker. I wanted these things because it is a basic human need to want people to know that a significant life is remembered. There was something deep inside of me desiring to be noticed.

It’s all about me, don’t you know? Well sort of. I was not a narcissist seeking to be noticed even if it meant hurting others. It was a different dysfunction. I used to dream about it, though I would have never admitted it. I wanted to be in one of the most significant Episcopal Church in the country. I wanted that so badly I would cut corners in other areas of my life to make it happen. I used to look at the calendar and make short-term goals on how I could achieve that. I don’t recall praying about it much, except I wanted God to make it happen. “Here I am God, let’s make this happen!” Even if it meant overlooking something that I’ve always claimed were my priorities: relationships.

Joseph taught me more about life than he had a right to do. I was his father. If there was any teaching going on, I was supposed to do it. But teach he did. It was not always in what he said. Sometimes it was in the way he lived. His compassion and love, of both people and nature now speaks to me louder than it did while he was living. “There’s more to life than a well-manicured lawn,” he often said. “Daddy, you need to travel, get out there with Mama and enjoy the world. It’s beautiful,” words I often hear echo deep within my soul.

Once I got a phone call from Joseph telling me he was going to quit his job. “Why?” I asked. “You love your job.” “I know,” he replied. Quickly adding “I’m flying to Florida for a wedding and want to spend a few weeks on the beach.”

Who does that? Not me. I was too concerned about manicured lawns, nice cars, all the new Apple devices, and building a significant church. I am amazed how myopic I can be. I am not sure I have overcome that yet but I am starting to see how wrong I was. Life does not exist in order for my needs to be met, even if those needs seem rather “holy” like building a church. There are beaches to walk on, mountains to see, new areas to explore and people close to me with whom to share.

I did not expect for this to be my journey. There is a part of me that keeps looking over my shoulder to the past or sometimes plotting some church work to do in the future but each day I confront the reality that it is all different now. As I reflect on this in a campground outside of Pensacola Florida I know that, even though I didn’t plan it, tomorrow brings something new with the one person I so desperately want to share it with, Julie. Joseph loved his Mama so much that somehow, through the thin veil that separates us for the time being, I hear him say, “you got it. There’s more to life than pushing. Enjoy it. Have fun. Love my Mama.”

So tomorrow we will go visit the National Navy Aviation Museum. I never thought I would be here but I am so grateful that I am.

Until next time,

Darrel+

Peaches. Wet, succulent and sometimes so sweet they are better than chocolate. I learned a lot about peaches in Texas. I made this amazing discovery in the Hill Country outside of Fredericksburg. I had no idea that there were two basic types of peaches: Clingstone and Freestone. Freestone is my favorite because it means the fruit doesn’t get stuck to the pit. Of course the Clingstone does just the opposite. I have to suck and suck on the seed to get all of the peach off the pit and often I just give up and spit it out.

I think life is too often like a Clingstone peach. I want things to go smoothly like biting into a ripe, juicy and delicious Freestone peach but that rarely happens. That is one of the great disillusionments about life. Perhaps we were sold a bill of goods about how life is supposed to go. I am not sure where we learned this but at least I did. Of course I could have looked around as a child and realized that things were messy, people were unhappy, sudden and unexpected crisis hit and no one was immune. But reality was drowned out by everything from fairy tales to the thirty-minute television show where all problems were solved in a half an hour.

But there is something about Clingstone peaches that, despite an inability to cleanly eat the entire fruit without the mess, they are tasty. They may be frustrating but they are good. So is life. Despite the challenges, the sudden and unexpected disasters and the way things turn out differently than was planned, life is good and rich and full of surprising delight. So instead of complaining, I think I’ll just enjoy.

Until next time,

Darrel+