Greetings loyal airmen. This week, because of serious events in both the private and public theater, we are going to discuss a little philosophy. This is about the death of two men. One was good, the other was evil.

When John Baptist Fortier and his wife Rose were married, they dreamed of a big, old fashion family. They got one in six, big strapping boys. The first of these was named Raymond and he grew up to be quite the man. Married just prior to World War II, when America got into the fray, Ray wasn’t allowed to sign up with his brothers George (my dad) and Richard. You see he was a spot welder at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard and his occupation was very vital to the war effort. So Ray spent the war years building the mighty battle ships that helped win back the Pacific. He also became a father for the first time, with a daughter they named Doris. She would be followed by Raymond Jr., Donald, David and Nancy. They lived next door to us and as we grew up, my brother, George Jr. and I, often spent as much time at Uncle Ray’s house as we did our own.

Although we were never particularly close, there were two things I truly admired about Uncle Ray. The first was his over-the-top sense of humor. He could tell a joke at the drop of a hat and often took center stage at many Fortier Family gatherings. The second thing about him was his voracious appetite to read. Almost every single time I ever set foot in their home, at the end of the work day, I would find Uncle Ray stretched out on his sofa, shoes off, TV on to some ballgame, and a paperback crime thriller in his hands. He devoured those potboilers by the dozens. No lie. It seemed he read one a day. And these were those great old tough guy mysteries by the likes of Mickey Spillane and Mike Shayne. Private eye thrillers with the sexy, gun-toting molls on the garish covers. Yup, Uncle Ray never knew it, but he provided my first ever introduction to the pulps.

After he and Aunt Winnie (short for Winnifred) retired, they moved down the Florida where they’ve lived for the past 30 years. They watched their five kids grow up, marry and make them grandparents; then great-grandparents.
Earlier this week, at the age of 90, Ray passed away in a nursing home. Winnie was at his side,
holding his hand and praying for his soul as he slipped away into that other world. They had been married for over 65 years! When the news reached us here in New England, it was a sad day, but not depressing. Ray Fortier had lived a truly good life and the people he met along the way, he touched in a positive way.
In the end, he left this world a better place for his having been in it. A fitting testimony to a husband, father, grandfather, good neighbor and friend. We were blessed to have known him.

Two days later the world news was bombarded with the news that the El Quaida
boss in Iraq, Al-Zarqawi had finally been hunted down and killed by U.S. bombs. At long last this monster’s reign of terror was over. During the remainder of the day I found myself pondering the leagues of differences between these two men and the lives they had led. One, a humble, hard working guy from New Hampshire, the other a cruel, sadistic murderer willing to kill hundreds of innocent people, most of his own faith, in the name of his perverted beliefs.
Talk about good and evil. I have no clue as to what Al-Zarqawi’s childhood was like. Frankly I don’t give a damn. Whatever it might have been, it could never excuse the cruelty and pain he inflicted on the world in the name of religion; a religion mind you, that at its core, has a philosophy of love for all men and women. Al-Zarqawi wasn’t a disciple of Islam, he was a zealot butcher out for himself and himself alone. And thus the end of these two men. One a few hundred people will have ever have known and now mourn. The other was recognized by millions. But here’s the rub, folks. Millions knew of Al-Zarqawi and millions are happy he’s dead!

Okay, on a much lighter note. After a harrowing three game battle with the Evil Empire
(the Yankees to non-sports fans) the Red Sox left the Bronx with one victory under their belts. Yet, being the optimist I am, there is usually a silver lining somewhere in even the gloomiest conditions. In this case it was the magnificent pitching performance given us by
the new kid from Double A Portland, David Pauley. This young pitcher was called up last week to take on the Toronto Bluejays. They
beat him up pretty bad and he made it through only five innings. Well two nights ago, after watching the Sox’s ace, Josh Beckett give up 8 runs in the second inning of his dismal outing the previous evening, this youngster came out and threw six amazing innings against one of the best teams in the Major Leagues, only giving up one run. It was a fantastic show of guts, heart and skill. In the seventh, he missed a grounder and ended up loading the bases before he was taken out. But that in no way diminishes the beautiful performance he put on out there on the mound in Yankee Stadium. This kid is the real deal and I for one am going to be watching him closely from now on.

Rain continues to hammer the New Hampshire
and there are fears of a second round of floods which we really cannot afford. I know the native Americans use to have rain dances. I’m wondering if there was a sun dance. We sure could use it now.

Oh, and as promised a few weeks back, my latest pulp book, CAPTAIN HAZZARD, is now on sale over at Amazon. For those of you who like to shop there. Check it out.

Another week, airmen. Have a great weekend.
Ron, over and out.