What a beautiful sky we have today, Obi-Wan. The kind of sky that requires a Starduster and a couple of free spirits like you and me cruising around in it to make it complete. That won't be happening, though, so I'll just sit here and gaze out my window, letting the memories flood back. Reckon I'll have to be content to fly with you only in my mind.

I have a letter here that's addressed to you. I found it when I sorted the mail. Once upon a time, I would have ripped this letter open immediately, typed an answer to the sender, attached whatever pictures or other memorabilia they requested, and left it on your desk for signature.

Remember how you used to tell me I really didn't have to go to all that trouble? You always thought answering those letters was probably some kind of huge hassle for me, but it wasn't. Sheesh, it was a lot of fun. The fans were only hoping for an autograph. It was a kick being able to send them a personal letter and even return their postage money.

Funny, I was talking to my 6 about you just this morning. Told him how you spun that VK-44 kit plane into a snowy mountainside in Minnesota. On the Spring Solstice, no less. Then I sort the mail and find this.

I remember the first fan letter that arrived after the accident. I just held it for a long, long time. Looking at it. Turning it over in my hand. Reading and re-reading "Colonel Robert F. Overmyer" in the first line of the address, as if the reading of it would change the grim reality. "He CAN'T be gone. Here's a letter addressed to him." Your loss was still very fresh then. As fresh as the tears that threatened to smear the return address into oblivion.

Finally I dried my eyes and put the envelope in my "action" pile. Then I put the action pile in my action file under "tomorrow". I successfully managed to avoid dealing with it in that manner for ... oh ... about six weeks, I'd say. Every day I'd just move it in with "tomorrow's" actions. It proved to be a very effective system.

Eventually, of course, I dealt with it. The stars lined up just right one day, and when I checked the pile that morning and saw the letter, I finally did the do. It had taken me six weeks to find the moxy, though.

Tempus may fugit, but it heals all wounds, too, I'm told. And that must be true. I know that because writing the words comes much easier for me now. Today, for instance, it only took me six hours to mark through your name and pen,

"Deceased - Return To Sender".

semper fi