I got a call today from my niece that my brother John had died. From what I can gather, he went in his sleep. He was almost eighty with an impressive array of health problems, but at least he didn’t die in the hospital. He’d been in pain most of his life, so it’s a comfort to think of him free — really free, free of his body, his pain, his past, and any trouble he carried in his heart.
John was an incredibly complex man — to some a complete crackpot, to a great many others a genius. To me, he was just my brother and I will miss him terribly.
He was a CIA Pilot. He held 17 world speed records, and was the only pilot in history to hold every airman certificate issued by the Federal Aviation Administration. He was best known for his thoughts and philosophies on UFOs, extraterrestrials, revealing government secrets, exposing the legendary Area 51, and as the “Godfather of Conspiracy.”
When he was disinherited by our father, inventor of the Learjet, he threw himself a party catered by McDonalds, and invited all his friends. They brought Alpo dog food. In December of that year, he sent out a Christmas card to his elite list (I was happy to be on it). Front of card shows a lovely picture of him, his second wife and their two daughters…surrounded by the words, “Merry Christmas to you, and a Happy New Year. Blessings to all…” (turn the…
