Dad sent this to a bunch of us this morning, and I just had to post it up here as well.

Ahhh, childhood memories of Captain Zoom! It seemed like every year the highlight of our birthdays would be pulling out the Captain Zoom “record” (really just a thin vinyl disc) and putting it on the record player. Of course, you always had to put pennies on the stars to get it to play right - due to it’s thickness (or lack thereof) it would sometimes not spin properly unless it was weighed down.

That’s a sample of the disc over there on the left - just pretend for a minute that it says Jason, or more accurately Shannon, instead of Dawn. Because today is my sister’s birthday.

I initially got online to try and find the lyrics to post here for her - however, wonder of wonders! I was able to find a place in Florida that still sells good old Captain Zoom. They’ve improved the technology since the last time we received a message from Zoom - the vinyl is gone, replaced by either cassette or CD.

Of course I went ahead and bought one….but with today being her birthday, shipping became a concern. At the very least I wanted to have it for her by Christmas. So, in what I believe is a first for me, I have actually purchased something that cost me more to ship than the item itself cost.

Want your own copy? You can go to http://www.captainzoom.com/ and buy your own, personalized copy. Be sure to listen to the MP3 clips of the song on the page - of all the names they could have chosen…. Well, I for one feel like they made the right call.

Looking for lyrics and more information on the, hey let’s call it what it is, “Cult of Zoom”? Surf on over to the My Name Is Zoom website.

But for now, let’s just wish my little sister a happy birthday with a message from a guy who lives on the moon.

Oh, and if you talk to her or run into her - let’s just hold off on mentioning this to her until after Christmas, OK?

Space command to Zoom
All systems are go for your message to Shannon!

Hey, Shannon!
It’s your birthday!
I’m in charge of the stars
And I’m here to say,
’cause Shannon,
You’re the BIG STAR today!

My name is Zoom
And I live on the moon
But I came down to earth
Just to sing you this tune
Hey, Shannon,
It’s your birthday today!

A present for you
I wanted to find
An outerspace creature
A one of a kind!
A wild whop or a kukelchoo,
An apple drop or a buzzardstew
Or maybe a 3-eyed tickleshay
For your birthday

Did you ask:
“uh, what’s a kukelchoo?”
Well, up on the moon it’s nothing new
But that won’t do for you,
On your birthday!

I searched behind the clouds and stars
I even zoomed my bike to Mars
And met my friend the saucer man
And he said:
“Hey Zoom I got the bestest plan!
What your friend needs is something new,
So how about a song, just from YOU?”

And so tonight when you’re in bed
I’ll be singing to you as I zoom overhead
Singing, Shannon! Happy Birthday
Singing, Shannon! Happy Birthday
Singing, Shannon! Happy Birthday

To you!

Happy Birthday, Shannon!
See you next year!

The hearse carrying my Grandfather rolled to a stop under the salutes of the VFW firing party and the Army’s honor guard. I composed myself, and moved forward to the hearse to perform one last service for my Grandfather.

We lined up on either side of the casket - myself and my cousins, brother-in-law Dan, and my Grandfather’s nephew Dirk. As we slowly slid the flag-draped casket from the hearse and onto the carriage, both detachments came to attention. We then placed our hands on the casket - mine over the stars upon the blue field - and walked to the enclosure where the honor guard waited.

There were benches opposite the casket - but none of us sat. We milled around into place - Beth and Malinda stood to my side, to front stood my mother with Alex. Alex still clutched a rose in his hand - the flower that his friend Brian the florist had put into the funeral arrangement to symbolize him - “his” rose. Dad alternated between crushing the handles on my Grandmother’s wheelchair and tenderly patting her on the back.

At a signal from the funeral director, the firing party prepared their first volley, and a million memories careened through my head.

Ready, aim, fire! …kneeling beside his chair, talking with him about sports….giving him his presents on Christmas day at my parents house…

Ready, aim, fire! ….watching him hug Alex, and talk to him about Lily….seeing him laugh as my father and Uncle Tom teased him about fishing…

Ready, aim, fire! …getting an irate phone call after a Browns loss…his excitement when I tracked down the Jo. Henry….

As the echos of the salute faded, the bugler raised his instrument and the mournful notes of Taps echoed around us. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I almost started laughing as I could hear his indignant voice wondering what all the fuss was about.

Then the priest came forward - he spoke, but his words were cold and meaningless to me. Just like the priest at the funeral earlier in the morning, I think, you didn’t know him. Then I shake my head - if it helps my family through this than it has some meaning.

When the words of the priest were finally over, the two-man honor guard up from Ft. Knox came to attention at each end of my Grandfather’s casket and saluted him one final time. Each grasping one end of the flag they lifted it from the casket and pulled it taught, and stepped to their left.

The flag was folded in half, and then half again. Then the triangular folds were made, the honor guard stepping forward a step with each second fold.

The folded flag was saluted, slowly and deliberately, by first the junior sergeant and then the senior sergeant. Then the detail leader moved forward and kneeled in front of my grandmother.

“On behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a token of the honorable and faithful service of your loved one.”

With those words, the flag - my Grandfather’s flag - was handed to my Grandmother.

We were then handed flowers to place on the casket as we left - I laid my hand on the cold coffin for one final farewell as I set down my flower. Then I picked up my little boy and gave him a hug, and our tears mingled a bit. He told me that he would miss the Great One - I told him that I would too, more than he could know.

That was a few weeks ago - now I sit in my office in the basement, surrounded by the things that used to be his. I’ve moved two shelves full of old technical books into the computer room to make space. Now I can turn my head and see his Practical Navigator and his USCP Atlantic Coast sectionals. I can reach out and grab one of dozens of books on the great lakes, or on fishing in the Florida Keys or in California.

Alex has his AMPS flag now - I gave it to him the other day after Shannon brought it back from our parents. I told him that I think he should have it - it can go with his picture of the Jo Henry and some of the other things Grandpa had given him.

This post has been long in coming - like the last few posts I knew it was going to hurt to write. Now that it’s done, I’m glad - I wanted to write down my thoughts and feelings for Alex and for my family. I wanted to acknowledge, however poorly, how fortunate I was to have the last 33 years to know my Grandfather.

About three years ago, my friend Jerry sent me the following email when I was quite depressed following the death of a mutual friend. Jerry - although he would doubtless deny it - is a most insightful guy, and the best friend anyone could have. I’m going to close out with his words of wisdom:

Life to me seems like a hall of mirrors with each soul we choose to interact with regularly another mirror of ourselves. When it is gone, it does not really change who we are but it leaves a hole in the illusion of life that somehow makes it seem a little less convincing or at least distracting.