A Fitting Epitaph…


for a warrior for peace.

If you don’t read Bayou Renaissance Man, I urge you to read his latest post. Then, blogroll him.

When I was a teenager, I had the great fortune to have a friend and mentor of sorts, an Episcopalian minister named Frank Swindle. He was a gentle man, soft spoken and cultured.

He was also a son of an oilfield roughneck, earthy and bull strong like his father. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

In a time when my rifts with my father deprived me of his influence, much of what I learned about strength, and kindness, and manhood, was guided by Frank Swindle. When I was a lonely and confused teenager, he gave me encouragement and direction. What little I know of God, he opened my eyes to. And what goodness there is in me today, much of it was shaped by his example and influence.

Well, my friend Peter is exactly the same sort. Go give him a read, and see what I mean. He, and his friend of whom he so touchingly writes, are remarkable men.

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