Posted by George Domas on August 8, 2008:

Dear Ray, As you can see, I am a lousy eulogy writer. Why else would I be writing this in the form of a letter? I have tried in the past to write eulogies, namely for our fellow ruggers and good friends, Bob Serio and Alex Hottell, and those attempts have always degenerated into my regretting their loss and complaining about how much I miss them. I will try to avoid the same pitfall with this one. Although I did not go back and review it, Alex Hottell said something in his auto-obit that always struck me as true, and I paraphrase here: Dying young means that others’ memories of you will always be of you in your youthful prime untainted by the passage of years. I know that you had a rich and full life and did not die as young as Alex and Bob, but we lost contact with each other after graduation and our paths have not crossed, much to my regret, since. Consequently, all my memories of you are as a young man during our cadet years at West Point. We were on the rugby team together. I recall your being a fierce and tough competitor, but that doesn’t do you justice; most of us were fierce competitors. You gave everything you had in a game and I was always glad you were on our side. Some of my worst memories were of the infernal and interminable tackling drills that Steve Popelarski, and later our own Kenny Sprague, would put us through. There were three guys that I hated to have to tackle: Bob Hickson, because he had such a high leg kick, I was sure to catch a knee to the face while making the tackle; Bill Jackman because he would run right at you and try to hurt you; and you. You were like Bill and seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on the tackler. But, unlike Bill, who was taller and against whom you could use his height as leverage to take him down, you were built closer to the ground and forced the tackler to take you head on. I used to have nightmares about those tackling drills! Some of my favorite memories were when we were on the same battalion staff during the fall of Firstie year. We lived across the hall from each other, you with Tom Anthony and I with Dave Fishback. We all got along well and we all knew we were going to graduate, so we had a lot of fun. I remember our practicing our saber drill incessantly during reorgy week so that we all acted in unison. As I recall we were pretty sharp. The parades were actually fun. You would guide us unerringly to the little can top I was supposed to stand on because, in my youthful vanity, I refused to wear my glasses when wearing my FD hat and could not see very well. We had great conversations and laughed a lot out on the Plain. I recall your dropping your saber at my feet after we had come to Parade Rest during one parade. I heard the “Oh s--t!” at about the same time I saw your blade land near my foot. We laughed at that! As I recall you picked it up when the band passed between the reviewing stand and us and no one even noticed. One of Dave’s friends took a photograph - a snapshot really – of the four of us after a parade. Dave gave us each a copy. It was one of my favorite souvenirs of our cadet years – good friends, happy times. Mine got swept away by Katrina. I wonder if your family still has yours and wonders who those other guys are? Dave and you are gone now and are in a better place; Tom and I are still around. I hope that you will get together and reminisce, as Tom and I do occasionally. Try to intercede with the Big Guy up there on our behalf. We need all the help we can get; especially Tom because he has a young child who will be a teenager when he is in he is in his seventies. Your friend and classmate, George Domas

admin