I'm a bit sad tonight. I've lost a dear friend. He was 84, a WWII vet. His family took him home for the funeral, and I am unable to go.

I have sat here today thinking of all the wonderful times that we had at his little beach place. The many cook-outs in what we called "the summer house" (basically a screened-in outdoor kitchen. The last gathering was less than a month ago, and we knew then there would not be many more. The best fish I've ever eaten was eaten there. Some of the best fellowships I've ever had were had there.

Though he owned a large farm near Darlington, and his kids had tried to get him to come home for some time. The last time that I saw him he said, "This is my home." I'm just glad that he never had to leave his old little haven until it was time to go to his ultimate home.

He was a man of courage that served his country, and a true gentleman.