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Jesse Horace Stevenson
A Tribute to my Father

What kind of man was my father? You don't normally think of such things as a child - your father merely is your father. It was not until he was advanced in years that I was able to begin to get to know him.

He was a man who was comfortable with himself. He wasn't afraid to be alone. There are those who must always surround themselves with activity and people and noise. He wasn't one of them. Although somewhat introverted, he was comfortable in large groups and was involved in church.

He was a man of conviction and a man of principle. There were times when he was passed over for a promotion because he wasn't afraid to stand up and speak when he thought he was right. This made him appear argumentative at times.

He was also a man of God. He attended church with a persistent regularity and, encouraged by his wife, led his family in daily reading of the Bible and in prayer. He taught a boy's Sunday School class, even at a time when he knew very little Bible and had to resort at times to telling old war stories.

I can remember flying over Miami with my father in a small Cessna. He seemed delighted that he could share his love of flying with his son and when I considered going to ROTC for training in the Air Force, he was ready to encourage me. And yet, when I did not choose that route for my life, he never expressed a regret.

He had a love of flying that stayed with him his entire life. When illness crept in, he would express his thankfulness to the Lord for the years in which he had been able to fly. He was also able to relate with his granddaughter, Sky, and her own love of flying.

He loved the outdoors. Fishing, hunting or merely hiking through a stand of woods were his favorite types of recreation. He dabbled in archery and skiing, in golf and boating, in waterskiing and swimming.

He had a way with animals which seemed almost uncanny. Large or small, they were attracted to his calm and quiet nature. He would gain the trust of a neighborhood squirrel until it would eat out of his hand. I never saw an animal that would not eventually come to him.

He had learned carpentry from his father and he demonstrated both a proficiency and a precision in this exacting trade. He could build a boat or a birdhouse.

He has given to his children and to his grandchildren these things as a heritage. A heritage of peace and of love of God's creation. A heritage of precision and of responsibility toward work and family. And a heritage of faithfulness toward God.

He was my father.

John T. Stevenson