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When not traveling or showing
visitors about,
Frank attends our Saturday Bible
study;
When it’s our turn, one of us
brings doughnuts or coffee cake;
Frank always brings muffins.
Frank is an old Navy man—
An Academy classmate of John Paul
Jones,
In retirement, a devoted alumnus,
A fixture at reunions and
supporter of the Academy Museum.
Who knows what Frank is retired
from!
He’s held political
appointments;
He works for the Democrats;
He tells us who’s running for
office before they announce.
Frank travels frequently,
Usually to places most people
avoid—
Seeing the Sahara by truck,
Visiting refugee camps in the
Balkans.
Frank is vague about his
motives—
Perhaps he collects destinations
like stamps;
Perhaps travel is an escape;
He may work for the CIA.
We discuss the church and the
world as much as the Bible;
Frank is a great resource,
Telling us firsthand how things
really are,
Explaining exotic customs.
Frank seems always grumpy over the
latest headlines,
Complaining about his aches and
pains,
Expressing perplexity over his
computer,
Always referring to the radio as
the “wireless.”
Yet, he easily makes friends
abroad;
He deplores the resulting visits
but is an attentive host;
He usually travels alone,
Though he sometimes takes a
grandchild along.
It’s hard to know if Frank is
religious;
He is surely not indifferent;
He would drop the Old Testament
and much of the New,
But his piety exceeds our own.
Frank went to see the doctor last
week;
He didn’t come home;
The aches and pains are now called
leukemia;
The prognosis was not encouraging.
We wondered if we would be able to
see him,
But Frank did not encourage
visitation,
Not as he decided whether to live
or die,
To fight for more time or to accept
our common fate.
We learned today that Frank died
last night;
He wanted a simple service,
A modest sendoff for the final
trip to Arlington;
He asked that I lead the singing of
the Navy Hymn.
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