Posted by Jean Mione Bottone on June 8, 2009:

As you know, Daddy, a permanent professor and head of the Physics Department at the Air Force Academy in Colorado, was a teacher -- and a terrific one. And as a teacher, one who must spend much of his time explaining the material and answering questions -- patience is the key! And I believe I must take credit for a good portion of Daddy's patience in explaining things and answering questions. I have a few examples: When Daddy was working on his doctorate, he and Mother took us on vacation to a cottage at the beach. With four children and a dog, it was certainly busy and noisy for Mother and Daddy, playing with us, and trying to keep us occupied, fed, and safe. But in the early mornings, Daddy would try to slip out and walk down the beach to get a newspaper -- probably getting the only quiet time in his day. But I didn't let him get away with it very often -- I just had to go, too. What is that white stuff on the water? Why is the water so salty? Why does the water go in and out? Why does the water look bluer way out there? What is that bird and why does it fly straight down into the water? Won't it drown? How far away are we from the pier now? Why does it keep getting bigger the more we walk? And on and on. Daddy taught us to drive. We had to learn to drive his car, with a standard transmission, before we were allowed to drive Mothers car with an automatic. I did pretty well moving forward down a straight road, shifting gears, and I would think, "Hey, this isn't so tough." Then he stopped me near the top of a hill, made me wait a minute, and then said for me to go. I cannot remember how many times I stalled out that engine. Daddy would give me quiet instructions from the passenger seat and I would try again, and fail, and try again and fail. I would cry and Daddy would stay calm, wait me out, and then say, "Try it again." I finally got it. Now it was Mother who taught me to parallel park. She did a great job -- I passed my driver's test. But -- Sorry Momma -- it didn't stick. I just cannot do it. The last time I even tried, it took me ten minutes, the car was way out from the curb, and the people waiting for me were holding their sides from laughing so hard. Some of my favorite memories are of Daddy helping me with homework -- at the dining room table he built himself. We did lots of things at that dining room table -- jigsaw puzzles, learning how to use a slide rule, letting me help him built an organ. But math homework was a constant all through school. He taught me that numbers can be fun, and to make a game out of finding the solutions. Except for word problems -- I still hate word problems! I would get so frustrated and throw a fit and tell him I just couldn't do it. Daddy would patiently wait and then say "OK, let's look at the problem again." He was always there -- not just for me and my brother and sisters, but for my children as well. Daddy spent many hours with my son Erick, years later, and not that many years ago, at that same dining room table, doing physics homework, playing the game with numbers, and answering Erick's questions just like he used to answer mine. Daddy always taught me that there was no such thing as a dumb question -- and I must have asked a million of them over the past almost 57 years of my life. Daddy always answered my questions -- each and every one. He had patience -- tons of it. Daddy was my favorite teacher -- I learned so much from him. Daddy was a great father, a most amazing and wonderful man and I loved him so very much.

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