I am very sad today. Not until I met Dick Smith at last year's SAAC convention, did I fully appreciate what Jamo had been writing about his friend for so long.
Once I met him and found how full of life he was, I finally understood why so many liked him. He seemed to enjoy every person he met. He spoke more about flying I think, than driving.
Always a gentleman, extending his hand in welcome, he will be missed by all who met him. God Speed.
His signature says it all....
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas - poet