Little Things Count

Colonel Richard George

Some years ago, a good friend of mine was dying in a local
Hospital.  Col. Richard George, USAF, had
spent his days as a career pilot during World War II and afterwards.  In the great War, after flying 25 bombing
missions over Europe, he had volunteered for a second 25 missions.  At this time, seriously ill, he was looking
back over his life, one with enough adventure in it to fill several lifetimes.

I visited my friend frequently in these trying days to help
him face this last great adventure of life.
As always, Col. George spoke in soft tones, articulate with no trace of
fear in his voice.  He had faced death every
time he had seated himself in his plane for a bombing mission.

My friend told me of one incident in his life that stood
out above all the others.  I expected
that he would tell of one of his narrow escapes from death.  It was not to be.  This is what Col. George told me.  In the early 1960’s, while he served as the
Commanding Officer of the USAF airfield adjacent to O’Hare Airport, one day he
greeted the then President, John F. Kennedy on his arrival in Chicago in his
Air Force One plane.

The next day, on his departure, President Kennedy walked up
the stairway to his plane.  As the President
turned to wave good bye to the crowds of people, he spied Colonel George at the
foot of the stairs, saluting high his departure.  In an instant, the President hurried down the
stairs to shake my friend’s hand and ask forgiveness for overlooking a goodbye
to the Commander of a military Airfield.

All this had happened many years before, but my friend, a
gentleman himself, had never forgotten this class act of President John F.
Kennedy.  The small things done in a
thoughtful way for others can make a profound impression in the lives of
others.  When I die on my deathbed,
someone may ask me what happenings in my long life (I’m 92 already!) stood out.

In 8^th grade, on Valentine’s Day, a girl left a
small candy heart on my desk with the inscription: “I Love You.” It said
to me. . . . “George, be a loving person.”

My Aunt Marie and Godmother brought a lemon cream pie in all
her visits in the days of the Depression on the 1930’s  It taught me . . . . “Be Generous, George.”

Fr. George Mc Kenna