Journal 10/1 (1984)
It’s Monday again. I demand a recount! There was supposed to be a vote on whether or not to accept this Monday. I don’t. I personally refute the existence of this day. We’re on special schedule for something, but — wait — election of officers, I think. Mr. Steele, why are you handing out folders? I’d rather not know. Today almost guarantees to end up badly. This may seem very pessimistic, but then again it’s Monday, ain’t it?
The Monday after a week off work is brutal.
This is David in the early 1990s, before he got his pilot’s license and spent his free time RC flying. That’s where he met Hermann Hoepken — on the field.
Hermann Hoepken
Dusseldorf,
late 1970s
Rest in peace, Hermann, it’s been one year tonight since you’ve gone. I’ve gotten to know quite a bit about you in the past year, through Helma. But I wish I would’ve met you. David told me a lot of Hermann stories and I understand why he looked up to you so much. You and Bill were like fathers to him, and for that I am eternally grateful. Last but certainly not least, thank you for Helma. She’s a gem, but you already know that — you did the smart thing and married her. I promise I will continue your tradition of anniversary roses and buy her all the hazelnut lattes her heart desires.
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