7 responses to John W. Armstrong

1. 

   Janis Armstrong says:

   September 9, 2013

   1 file added to the tribute wall

   Reply
2. 

   Anonymous says:

   September 10, 2013

   Great pictures! John will be soooo missed.

   Reply
3. 

   Bobbie Caswell says:

   September 12, 2013

   My condolences to the family of John Armstrong. He will always be remembered by me as a good friend and a most honorable man. Bobbie Caswell

   Reply
4. 

   Karen Morgan says:

   September 13, 2013

   i know you are watching over us and while you linger I want you to know how there are so many that admire you and hold you close in their hearts. I look forward to the time we will be together again. I remember how immense your pride in your children. As we sat around the campfire you would call one or the other to stop playing and come show off various talents as you beamed with delight. Your laugh still plays in my head. You so loved life and were always the life of the party. There was always a boat. The beautiful criss craft with its clear varnish and rich wood showing thru. A fishing tool, leasure ride around the lake to see the totum poles left by an acient culture or power to pull you out of the water quickly up on two ski’s or off the dock only to get splinters removed from your seat later in the evening by the fire place that warmed the cabin you built with your father and brothers. The Matthews sporting twin chrysler engines. All that power on the open ocean made you feel so free. The wind and ocean spray were healing. The house boats putting so slowly up the tributarys of the mighty sacramento jokingly reffered to as PU slew. Campfires and laughter and comraudery. Everyone did their part as a great team cooking, collecting wood, piloting the vessels. I recall coming around a bend boats together a bridge with pilings across our path. Bob raised his voice, “Who’s going first?” You replied, “We can make it.” Bob yelled back, “We”ll never make it!” You laughed hard and said, “Side by side Bob-side by side!!!” At that the kids senced pending doom and scurried for the oars and brooms and anything to aid in our survival. As always we got thru it unscaved and there was much merriment around the campfire that night reliving the whole thing. The trips to Catalina Island where Grandpa would throw coins off the pier for us into the water and we had to dive like all get out to win that coin off the the bottom of the sand before the locals snatched it up. So many memories you left us with. Good strong memories. Thank you for your love and laughter. Thank you for you.
   Karen Morgan

   Reply
5. 

   Omid Mottahred says:

   September 16, 2013

   When Great Trees Fall
   Maya Angelou

   When great trees fall,
   rocks on distant hills shudder,
   lions hunker down
   in tall grasses,
   and even elephants
   lumber after safety.

   When great trees fall
   in forests,
   small things recoil into silence,
   their senses
   eroded beyond fear.

   When great souls die,
   the air around us becomes
   light, rare, sterile.
   We breathe, briefly.
   Our eyes, briefly,
   see with
   a hurtful clarity.
   Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
   examines,
   gnaws on kind words
   unsaid,
   promised walks
   never taken.

   Great souls die and
   our reality, bound to
   them, takes leave of us.
   Our souls,
   dependent upon their
   nurture,
   now shrink, wizened.
   Our minds, formed
   and informed by their
   radiance,
   fall away.
   We are not so much maddened
   as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
   of dark, cold
   caves.

   And when great souls die,
   after a period peace blooms,
   slowly and always
   irregularly. Spaces fill
   with a kind of
   soothing electric vibration.
   Our senses, restored, never
   to be the same, whisper to When Great Trees Fall
   Maya Angelou

   When great trees fall,
   rocks on distant hills shudder,
   lions hunker down
   in tall grasses,
   and even elephants
   lumber after safety.

   When great trees fall
   in forests,
   small things recoil into silence,
   their senses
   eroded beyond fear.

   When great souls die,
   the air around us becomes
   light, rare, sterile.
   We breathe, briefly.
   Our eyes, briefly,
   see with
   a hurtful clarity.
   Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
   examines,
   gnaws on kind words
   unsaid,
   promised walks
   never taken.

   Great souls die and
   our reality, bound to
   them, takes leave of us.
   Our souls,
   dependent upon their
   nurture,
   now shrink, wizened.
   Our minds, formed
   and informed by their
   radiance,
   fall away.
   We are not so much maddened
   as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
   of dark, cold
   caves.

   And when great souls die,
   after a period peace blooms,
   slowly and always
   irregularly. Spaces fill
   with a kind of
   soothing electric vibration.
   Our senses, restored, never
   to be the same, whisper to us.
   They existed. They existed.
   We can be. Be and be
   better. For they existed..
   They existed. They existed.
   We can be. Be and be
   better. For they existed.

   Omid Mottahed

   Reply