An Alaskan Tale of Community

(July 3) – I neglected to include a wonderful story we heard while in Ketchikan yesterday and I want to record it while it’s somewhat fresh in my mind.

As we were going by bus to the lodge down on George Inlet, we passed the Tatsuda IGA market along Highway 7. The bus driver remarked that the Tatsuda family is much loved in Ketchikan.

The family came to Ketchikan in the early years of the 20th century, he said, starting their business from nothing and becoming trusted providers of food and supplies to the townspeople. They extended credit to the hardscrabble folks who needed it to survive in such a remote spot.

Over time the business grew and the Tatsudas were respected contributors to the growth of the community. When World War II came along, the Tatsudas, because of their Japanese heritage, were sent to an internment camp in Utah, as other Japanese-Americans on the West Coast were being removed from their homes and sent to Manzanar and other camps.

When the Tatsudas were removed, the government took over their store. They did not, our driver said, manage it well and were “running it into the ground.” The townspeople decided to take matters into their own hands and took over running the operation. They also took responsibility for the Tatsuda’s home and its upkeep. It was, we were told, a sign of the respect and appreciation others in Ketchikan felt for the family who had always helped them.

When the war ended and the Tatsudas returned, the store was returned to them. In addition, the townspeople gave the family all the profit that had accrued during their absence. The market continued to operate and does so today.

In little Ketchikan, when asked what they do in winter, locals respond that they “drink a lot.” They have lived a rough existence, sometimes merely subsisting in an isolated and occasionally hostile environment. Through it all, they have retained their independent spirits, but have also learned the importance of friendship. They know the value of community.

Ketchikan—Eagles in Flight, Crabs for Lunch and the Bridge to Nowhere

(July 2) – Mike and I were walking very early this morning when our ship came up the Tongass Narrows to approach and dock at Ketchikan. The name of the town came from the Tlingit for “thundering wings of an eagle” and it’s a perfect name. As soon as we came back from breakfast after our walk, I spotted a huge eagle’s nest in a tree on Pinnock Island directly across the water from our balcony. One and then another bald eagle flew onto the nest as I watched.

The nest is in tall fir trees just behind a house on the shore. In front of the house is a float plane resting on a rocky beach above a dock. What a picture of life in Alaska. We learned later that the islands across the water from Revilla Island on which Ketchikan was built have no bridges or roads across to the town, so folks over there get here by boat or not at all.

The town itself, once the Cape Fox community, is picturesque with its buildings painted many different colors and its sign proclaiming Ketchikan the “Salmon Capital of America.” The streets are lined with shops selling a range of goods from trinkets to high-priced native art, including some amazing sculptures made from whale vertebrae and ivory. There are totem poles here and there and garden spots galore against a backdrop of snow-topped mountains. The highest, Deer Mountain, is about 3000 feet and is what locals use to forecast the weather. If you can see the mountain, rain will come soon. If you can’t see it, it’s already raining.

We had about a half-hour in town before leaving for today’s excursion, so Mike and I wandered in and out of a few shops on our way to Creek Street, site of the town’s red light district until the 1950’s. It has been turned into shops where tourists can find their souvenirs of Alaska. The creek for which it was named tumbles through a gully next to the boardwalk, providing a great spot for pictures.

A bus took us a few miles away to George Inlet for a boat ride and crab feast. Along the way we saw more eagles, this pair sitting on a mud flat along a river, waiting, our driver said, for fish to come upstream. We saw other eagles sitting in the trees along the highway which was paved part of the way and graveled the rest.

When we arrived at the lodge, we took 79 steps down to their dock, then down a steep ramp to a floating dock where the enclosed pontoon awaited. A driver and tour guide took our boat down the inlet for a few miles to a cove where we pulled up crab pots and learned about Dungeness crabs. Females are illegal to harvest, so must be returned to the water and the males taken must be at least 6 ½ inches in breadth.

Along the way we passed the cannery where Libby, McNeil and Libby once canned salmon. (Remember the commercial—“If it’s Libby, Libby, Libby on the label, label, label…”?) The cannery was sold by Libby in 1978, the year before Alaska became a state. Apparently Libby knew that the state legislature would severely limit salmon fishing and even ban the sort of trap fishing that Libby had used, so they got out of that business. Now the old cannery is a museum.

On the way back from the crab pots, we saw killer whales, or at least their tall dorsal fins. They are beautiful creatures and we, of course, hope to see more of them during our time here.

The crab feast was both messy and delicious, served up by a cadre of young, enthusiastic women in bright yellow outfits that looked like fishing waders. They kept us entertained while plying us with yummy crab. Once again, we heard a favorite Alaskan comment about the ratio of men to women here. They say frequently that “the odds are good, but the goods are odd.” These women, claiming to have caught and cooked the crabs themselves, said that “Alaska is where the men are men and the women are men, too.”

Coming back on the bus our driver pointed out eagles in trees all along the way, commenting that “around here they are like pigeons.” I suppose that is the way locals see them, but for us each sighting of these magnificent creatures is a thrill.

We also saw salmon jumping in a small bay near the highway. All along the highway wild flowers bloom in yellows, purples and whites. This is beautiful country, much of it in the Tongass National Forest, the country’s largest. Because of Ketchikan’s rainfall average of 162 inches a year, the landscape is lush. The forest when logged by the native people regenerates itself quickly.

As I write this part of today’s chronicle, we are leaving the dock and moving northward toward tomorrow’s port of Juneau. Bald eagles are soaring over the ship as we leave and our anthropologist says there are more to be seen as up ahead.

As we pass Gravina Island, we’re hearing about Ketchikan’s international airport there. There is, as I mentioned above, no bridge. Access to the small airport is by car ferry. This is the island to which the infamous “Bridge to Nowhere” was proposed. While there is little population there now, it is the place for the town’s future growth, if there is to be any. Thus, the “nowhere” we heard so much about becomes visible to us and the story we’re hearing makes more sense than it has done before. What was always hard to swallow about this bridge and remains a choker was the price--$230 million! The bridge would have to be quite high to allow passage underneath by the cruise ships that come this way and provide income for the town. The airport, by the way, is in the Guinness Book of Records. That’s because it’s the only airport in the world where the control tower is lower than the runway.

Another story about the airport is about how a black bear cub closed the airport for a time. The cub wandered into the terminal and was riding the luggage carousel. When someone tried to scare it off, it screamed, drawing its mother. As the story is told, she did $5000 damage to the terminal in her zeal to rescue her baby.

Every place has its stories to tell. In Alaska the stories reflect its relative isolation, the wildness of the landscape and the individuality of its people. There are people here who live 200 miles from the nearest neighbor and get visits from bush pilots only once a year to deliver supplies. One of our guides told us of friends who live at the end of George Inlet and travel by boat several miles to get to where their truck is parked so that they can drive even further to town for needed goods.

The beauty of this place is truly captivating. I find myself falling more in love with Alaska each hour we’re here. This southeast part of the state is in a temperate rainforest climate where the average temperature in winter is 33 degrees, not as cold as one might expect. There is, however, snow still on the mountains, so there’s no question that winter brings enough cold for snow in this wet, maritime climate.  Now, though, we've had a beautiful, dry day to enjoy the majesty of the setting.

In the early evening, the ship hosted "block parties" on each hallway, providing us with wine and snacks, of course.  Ending the day with a beautiful dinner, we enjoyed sharing tales and laughter with our friends.  The movement of the ship will once again lull us to sleep and we look forward to Juneau tomorrow.
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

A Day at Sea--The Moveable Feast

(July1) – After this morning’s early walk in the mist, we cleaned up and dressed for breakfast. There’s something truly intriguing about the design of cruise ships. As we’ve traveled over the years, always on the smaller ships, we’ve seen their accommodations updated and refined to provide maximum comfort in remarkably small spaces.

With the exception of minimal water pressure in the shower, the space and functionality of our cabin on this ship is exceptionally luxurious. There’s even an Ipod in our room to provide music. The TV, while not providing much local programming while we are out of port, allows access to a large library of movies and even a constant view from the captain’s bridge at the bow of the boat so we can see where we’re headed.

The challenge of this wonderful experience onboard is not to eat ourselves into a stupor. Food is everywhere all the time. Breakfast fare was available in multiple locations and we managed to eat well without going crazy. Then we attended a presentation this morning about Alaska which was very well done by a cultural anthropologist. There were, of course, drinks and pastries available there. She even joked that the humpback whales that come to Alaska come here from their winter habitat near Hawaii for only one reason—to eat, much like the folks on cruises. The whales apparently consume about 1400 pounds of krill and phyloplankton a day. We will attempt to keep our intake somewhere below that amount, despite the efforts of the cooks and wait people to feed us at every juncture.

Our speaker shared some of Alaska’s history with us and also told us about some of the country and wildlife we might see in the days ahead. With the help of pictures and maps displayed on a huge screen in the theater, she made the geography clearer and also helped us understand better how to identify the wildlife we might see along the way. Obviously, most people who come here are anxious to see bears, whales and eagles. Her descriptions were really helpful in orienting us to both sight and name creatures.

She also told us what not to expect, such as a sighting of the Aurora Borealis. While the “Northern Lights” are a year-round phenomenon, there is too much daylight at this time of the year to see them from this far south of the Arctic Circle. Toward autumn, when the days are shorter and nights actually get dark, those lights are visible from the ships. We’ll have to add that to our reasons for another trip to Alaska in years to come.

Then, of course, there was lunch. Mike was keen on the fresh seafood to be served on the pool deck until we got out there and he realized that the food would be cold before he could get it to the table. Between the temperature and the breeze created as we’re motoring along, it’s been quite cold outside today, truly deliciously cold and we love it, just maybe not to sit and lunch.

So, darn it, we had to go inside to the buffet with its roast lamb and fish dishes and extensive salad bar and dessert section. We suffered through that and even nibbled a bite or two of some sugar-free cheesecake for dessert.

Back in our cabin, I reviewed our shore excursions and discovered a mix-up for the two excursions we had booked for Skagway. Somehow they had been overlapped instead of kept separate, making it impossible for us to do one or the other. Since our friends were doing something altogether different, we decided to change to what they are doing. So we’ll take a train ride over mountains to the Yukon (back to Canada and we’ll have to carry our passports). It promises to be both a scenic ride and another great destination.

Then it was time for the wine tasting. The sommelier was overwhelmed by the number of people who showed up for that. Clearly our ship has an abundance of winos this trip. We tasted four California wines that were pretty good and enjoyed meeting people from Australia in the process. It was fun to share our experiences in Australia and New Zealand and to hear about their travel. Living down under, they think nothing of flights that are 12 or 14 hours; they always have a long way to go to get most places.

The afternoon was sunny, if cold. We were out of sight of land most of the early hours after lunch, but have come back to the Inside Passage again. The forested shoreline is dramatically beautiful with the deep green of hemlocks and other firs, including the state tree, the Sitka spruce. I had the binoculars out hoping to see a bear along the shore, but didn’t have any luck. Maybe part of the problem is simply using binoculars while we’re moving at a clip—it’s a bit disorienting.

The captain’s welcome reception was held in the theatre, complete with champagne or other drinks of choice. The captain wore his clan tartan kilt and introduced the other officers. The obvious jokes were made about what he wears under the kilt, if anything. He claims to have the family kilt made in three weights, one of which is heavy enough to remain at knee level even in the wind on the pool deck. We did not, however, see him outside in the kilt.

Dinner was once again both tasty and bounteous. Local salmon is offered every night with a fairly wide range of other fish and meats. Portions are generous, but not beyond a normal appetite. The menu always includes dishes for vegetarians, those leaving sugar out of their diets, etc, as well as something children will like. While there is a relatively small percentage of children on board, kids’ needs factored into each day’s plan and activities are planned especially for them.

We are sailing into the sunset just before 10PM this evening. Although the sun does set each day here and we haven’t been awake in the middle of the night to check, we’re told some light remains and there are few dark hours, if any.

Tomorrow we’ll dock in Ketchikan at 7AM with a couple of hours there before our excursion. Today’s weather cleared and allowed beautiful views as we cruised. Ketchikan is touted as one of Alaska’s wettest cities, so we could have a rainy day. Whatever the weather, the setting is so gorgeous that we’ll manage. As one of the officers who is from Germany said this evening: “There is no bad weather, just bad clothes.” We’ll enjoy it, whatever comes.
[Photo by Mike Lumpkin]

Getting to the Inside Passage and our Alaska Adventure

(July 1) – It’s Canada Day and we’re cruising the Inside Passage between Canada and Alaska. We’re not sure at this point which country we are in, probably still British Columbia, but we’re sure we wouldn’t want to be anywhere else this glorious morning.

As I write, I’m looking out our balcony door to see the water with logs occasionally floating by and the islands beyond, dotted with clouds like cotton balls scattered across the dark green of the fir trees. In the distance on both sides of the ship we’ve seen snow-covered peaks. Too tired to chronicle yesterday’s travel last night, I’m catching up this morning.

After our long day getting here, Mike and I collapsed after dinner and slept soundly. We woke early and went up to the walking track and enjoyed the glory of walking in the cool mists amidst the fabulous North Country scenery all around us. Birds were skimming across the water, occasional small boats were moored along either side of the passage and we saw a rare home or lodge along the shoreline.

Getting here was as painless as one can hope in these days of air travel fraught with obstacles. Our pickup at home was scheduled for 4:30AM and we hit the front sidewalk just in time to be sprayed by the sprinkler system that kicked on for our departure. Fortunately, I was only wet on one side and not so wet that I needed to change clothes.

Despite the early hour, there were lots of folks at Charlotte-Douglas Airport, all trying to go different places at the same time. With an inefficiency that’s always frustrating, not all of the security gates were staffed, so there were long lines. We got through in time for our flight and made it to O’Hare in Chicago ahead of time.

O’Hare seemed to be humming, but not overcrowded and our layover was just long enough to stretch our legs and get the breakfast we were hungry to find. The flight to Vancouver was uneventful. We were not sleeping soundly much, but dozed between attempts to read or do crosswords.

Vancouver’s airport is big and beautifully designed, perhaps redone for the recent Winter Olympics visitors. The immigration and customs process was handled well and before we knew it, we were greeted by the Regent Seven Seas reps and whisked aboard a bus for the 40-minute drive through Vancouver to the Canada Center where cruise ships depart.

Vancouver is an interesting city. We were here about 15 years ago and enjoyed its combination of natural beauty and cultural diversity. Our coach ride took us through the city, reminding us of Auckland with its neighborhoods dressed in well-kept houses surrounded by flowering gardens and hedges, very English in feel.

There are great old buildings in Vancouver, harking back through its history—the Canadian Pacific Railway building and others, many now repurposed, but still standing proudly. They are part of the panoply of skyscrapers that house Vancouver’s business center and city dwellers, as well as the Olympic venues. The stadium where opening and closing ceremonies were held is a construction site again as workers install a retractable roof. Professional sports teams will use the facility going forward.

We were greeted with champagne as we checked in onboard our ship, the Navigator. We had lunch on the pool deck and were happy to see our friends, the Spells and Bramsons arrive a little while later. They had come in earlier for a couple of days in Vancouver.

Our rooms were ready earlier than promised and we’re really pleased with the accommodations. We share a butler, decked out in tails, and a housekeeper with 11 other cabins. They and others in the crew are both helpful and efficient, all friendly and well-trained. We have plenty of room in a shipboard space designed to get the most out of limited space. Our balcony is small, but big enough for a small table and two chairs. More than anything, it allows us a big view of the beauty to be seen as we cruise.

We participated in the obligatory lifeboat drill yesterday before sailing. It’s always good to know what to do, just in case an emergency arises. It also allowed us to begin to meet other passengers with whom we’ll share the week. We had already met some in Chicago who are part of a three-generation family enjoying something of a reunion on this journey. Our favorite part of the drill was the captain’s commentary which included the instruction: “if someone falls overboard and it’s someone you want to save,” report it to the crew immediately. A droll fellow, this captain is.

As we sat in the harbor before departure, we were fascinated to see float planes taking off and landing in the water nearby. There’s something very different about the idea of taking off from water and landing there again.

The ship makes a celebration of sorts out of leaving the harbor. It is thrilling to feel the engines starting up far below our level, then to feel the movement. The harbor is spectacular with a beautiful blufftop park and a coastline pathway that is used by walkers, runners, bikers and inline skaters. The pathway hugs the shore, curving in and out, separated from the water by only a low stone wall.

Leaving the harbor, we passed under the Lion’s Gate Bridge. As we left, another cruise ship, somewhat larger than ours, followed us out. All through the harbor, we saw sailboats, motorboats, every manner of watercraft venturing about. Along the shore we continued to see houses, even a picturesque lighthouse. And the backdrop for it all is the glorious mountains.

I took a mini-nap on the little sofa/cushioned bench in our cabin while Mike went above to take pictures. Then we dressed for a little get-together in the Spell’s cabin. To complement the complimentary wine and champagne provided by the ship, they had resourcefully brought peanut butter and “Easy Cheese” and Ritz crackers from home for our “hors d’oeuvres” and we enjoyed the time to talk about what everyone is doing in retirement and ooh and aah over the passing scenery. Then off to dinner where we had wonderful food and chatted and laughed before Mike and I headed for bed to catch up on some sleep. We had no trouble falling asleep to the sound of the ship passing through the water.
[No photos today--the ship is moving and apparently that prevents photo uploads]
[Photo added later, taken by Mike Lumpkin]

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Peter, Paul and Mary (alternating with John Denver) are singing in my head as we pack for our two weeks in Alaska. We are almost as excited about being in cooler temperatures as we are about the wonderful scenery and wildlife we anticipate seeing.

I’ve been following some of the Alaska news sites in preparation for the trip. It seems like there’s a lot of Palin coverage of all sorts. She’s clearly the focus of their celebrity news. Much like a family, Alaskans seem comfortable criticizing her themselves, but don’t much appreciate outsiders’ opinions of their gal from Wasilla.

What’s truly interesting to me, though, is the flavor of their news. If all politics is local, as Tip O’Neill famously said, then I’d have to say at least most news is local. It’s what affects people’s daily lives, what touches their pocketbooks and speaks to their hopes and their fears. Thus, the stories in Alaska may involve polar bears or whales or other wildlife that we don’t see in the Lower 48, but most of them reflect the same cares and concerns that the rest of us have. Jobs. Homelessness. Jobs. Addiction.  Jobs. Abuse. Jobs. The echo resounds everywhere these days.

In Alaska, the story that leads a news bulletin may very well have to do with whether the salmon are abundant in the Kenai River. That’s important to folks there on many levels. They count on fishing to sustain their lives; the salmon are business (jobs). They count on being able to ship salmon elsewhere (jobs) and on attracting fisherman to their waters as sportsmen and tourists (jobs). The Kenai River has been closed to king salmon fishing because state biologists are concerned with how few salmon they are seeing in the water.

We’re going to Homer after we depart the cruise in Seward. In Homer, the news is that they have a new ferry and they’re pretty excited about it. Homer is a town that relies to some extent on tourism (jobs) and the ferry is a big part of that.

In Sitka, folks are hoping that the clear water in their Blue Lake might be a business (jobs) opportunity. There’s an entrepreneur, according to National Geographic, who thinks he might be able to export that water in bulk to the Middle East. There are folks in Sitka that like the idea for the benefit (jobs) it might bring their town.

What I’m loving about Alaska already is the sense you get from learning about the people there that, while they’re like the rest of us in many ways, they are there because they’re different, too. If their families have been there for generations, their culture has unique elements. They may be Native People or have Russians in their DNA.

If they’re relative newcomers to the state, they came and stayed because there’s more wild there to enjoy—open spaces, fewer people, room to roam where you might see more bears than people. There’s some of that quirky independent spirit that permeated the TV show, Northern Exposure. I just today read a story about a woman from Anaktuvuk Pass who married her sweetheart so hadn’t been posting much in her blog called “Stop and Smell the Lichen.” The groom posted photos of the wedding on his blog, called “Wasilla by 300.” It looks like they were married in a sort of gym, surrounded by family and friends. The photos and story are really beautiful and sweet. And, apparently the ceremony and reception were followed by an “alcohol-free tundra party.” That’s not how wedding stories end in North Carolina, our being short on tundra and longer on alcohol, perhaps.

Anyway, we’re looking forward to the people and places we’ll find in Alaska. We’re excited about wearing warm clothes on cool days, having many more hours of daylight than we’ve ever known and taking lots of pictures.

Among the Tlingit (pronounced clink-it) people of Alaska, there aren’t expressions for hello and goodbye, apparently. There is an expression used often there that I think works well for us. It’s Haa kaa gaa kuwatee translating to It's good weather for us. Whatever weather we find, we think the adventure will be one we’ll remember forever.

Are We Insane?

From the top of a mountain in Western North Carolina a question was asked.  In a still voice with depth, but without overly dramatized inflection, the question was raised:  "Are we insane?"  The speaker's immediate reference was to the oil spilling into the Gulf of Mexico as we sat on our mountaintop with its beautiful views.  His question was actually much broader in scope than today's oily horror.

I was mesmerized by the sanity of the comments made by the man who asked the question.  He is the Executive Director of North Carolina Audubon and he was speaking to members gathered for the society’s annual meeting.  He was calm, but fervent.  He spoke to a need for a thoughtful discourse as those who decry "tree-huggers" resist conversationists' efforts.  Thanks to Chris Canfield for inspiration, honesty and a kick in the pants that's well-timed.

He spoke of our need to awaken to what we are not doing, to questions we’re not asking. He was honest enough to say he doesn’t have all the answers. In fact, there are many questions in conservation today that have no answers, but unless we’re asking the questions and pursuing those answers with commitment, we will continue to fail in our stewardship of this planet, our home.

If we have the technology to drill miles below the ocean’s surface to find oil, then we have the technology to develop fail-safe measures to prevent the catastrophe now taking place in the Gulf of Mexico. The problem is not that it can’t be done; the problem is that we don’t demand it.  We don't even question it until it's too late to save the beaches, the pelicans and the shrimp.

His analogy regarding the Gulf oil spill and BP’s inability to stem the outflow of thousands of gallons of oil that are now washing into the Louisiana marshes asked us to think about a plumber. If you hire a plumber to put a water system into your home, don’t you expect that plumber should be able to repair the system if it fails?

We’re all comfortable requiring our automakers to make good on the products they sell us. We’ve been pushing them pretty hard lately. Think about the recalls among the broader manufacturing companies that we’ve all seen. They have to fix what they make if it breaks. Why haven’t we demanded this of those drilling into our precious oceans for oil? Did we learn nothing from the Exxon Valdez incident?

It would be easy to blame the government. Yes, they share in the blame. But “they” are us. Whether we like it or not, we put them in office one way or another. We allow appointed bureaucrats to make decisions about our lives. Our excusing of our own culpability in these matters is akin to the BP executives pointing fingers everywhere but at themselves.

It is time we take responsibility for our lives and what we will leave for future generations. We don’t have the luxury of time to waste on blaming others. We do have the opportunity to become engaged in first thinking, then acting on what each of us can do to learn from Nature and clean up after ourselves, use only what we need and become protectors of our environment rather than predators.

The first change must be within ourselves. We’ve demonstrated that we can change, even when we don’t want to do it. We have begun to recycle more, send less to landfills. We have begun to find better ways to heat and cool our homes, refrigerate our food and wash and dry our clothes.

We can change. We must change. Our children and their children will learn their ways from us. If we begin now to seek ways to make a difference and take action, it could be the most important revolution in America since 1776.

Photo by Mike Lumpkin

Remembering Tom McClendon

A colleague passed away suddenly a few days ago. Tom McClendon was someone I respected, someone I appreciated. He brought demonstrable value to our company and to my own effectiveness. His ultimate role was as Vice President/Research for the broadcasting companies. His insistence on doing things the right way rather than opting for expediency was legendary. He had, in a word, integrity.

Even as he demanded that we stay on track, stay true to our purpose, he found ways to let us know that he did so because he so wanted us to be successful. He was intense and focused, both in the workplace and on the softball fields where he coached in off-hours. He wanted to win in all endeavors, not out of arrogance, but for the sheer love of excellence in pursuit of an objective.

Tom made those around him better. He could make you feel so respected and, within minutes, bring you up short, snap you to attention and demand that you think again and sharpen your perspective on a topic. He could be fearsome in his bluntness.

He was the quintessential researcher, Tom, a man of few, but incisive, words, who let others take the spotlight and seemed happy to be the professional wind beneath their wings. Sure, he could and did make presentations to hundreds of colleagues with the utmost confidence earned through his experience and knowledge. He stepped up to the podium not because he sought attention, but because he wanted deeply to convey ideas. His need was to inform and to teach, to enlighten and open minds.

He was both a curmudgeon, quite by design, and a pussycat, a part of himself that he sometimes hid beneath the surface. On the one hand, one might say that Tom “didn’t suffer fools gladly” and that would be true. On the other hand, one could surely also say that Tom spent considerable energy as a coach, a role that often requires patience and endurance of spirit. One has only to know Tom’s wife, Lynne, to know that his bright, shiny intellect lived side-by-side with a warm humanity. He wasn’t just learned, this man, he was smart enough to win and remain married for 40 years to a smart, accomplished, and resoundingly good woman.

Personally, I will remember many kindnesses Tom showed me. I won’t forget the many times he listened carefully to my concerns, and then offered his usual rational advice. I will remember his joy when talking about his beloved Clemson Tigers. I will always smile to recall his disdain for “frou-frou” foods and his often-repeated question: “Can I just have a hamburger, please?”

Tom McClendon made a difference because he cared. We were lucky to have his guidance, fortunate that he not only loved his work, but was intensely loyal to our company. It was good to have Tom in our corner. He touched many lives and left us better for knowing him. He will be missed and he will be remembered. Rest in peace, Tom.