From Chris(SNO)-
Today is the first day I won’t be able to wish him a “Happy Birthday” over the phone via FaceTime, or the Stone-Age method of actually calling. It’s been a very strange experience. We had the standard father-son relationship with hunting trips when we could, talked about life during down times, and of course all things aviation/Navy related. We shared stories and asked what was different and how he did this or I did that. I had hoped to take him in a helicopter for one of his birthdays or as a Christmas gift to show him what flying really is! Joking of course, I just had to give him and his jet buddies a playful jab. As I continue to learn more about what goes into being an aviator, ground jobs and working with other military branches, I find myself wanting to pick up the phone to call him for guidance or just to complain about the day and hear “how it used to be in my time”. I’ll never forget the expertise and words of wisdom he imparted on me in regards to family, friends, and work. I hope to some day be half the man he was. I would like to end with my father’s favorite quote, modified slightly, from Gladiator, “If you find yourself alone, flying in CAVU skies with the sun on your face, do not be troubled. For you are in Elysium, and you’re already dead!” Happy Birthday Old Man! *Raises a pint of Guinness and a shot of Jameson*
Ashley(Biscuit)-
From Kate(Kat)-
I remember being on the east coast for Christmas, I couldn’t have been more than five or six years old at the time. And this year, I wanted one thing, the giant stuffed bear from FAO Schwartz. I had my eye on it since I had circled it in a magazine months before and absolutely nothing else would do. A few days before Christmas my dad took me to get some last minute gifts at the mall, and while he had no idea my ulterior motives, I knew I would be coming home with that bear. Before he knew it we were at the checkout stand purchasing a bear too big to be put inside a bag. For the remainder of the shopping trip I sat perched on my dad’s shoulders while he carried this monstrosity around the mall. But he didn’t complain and I remember going home and sitting with that bear all night. And I remember seeing him smiling at me. He was a smiley man, always laughing and telling jokes, often ones not as funny as he might have thought. But that was him. That was my dad. He was never as concerned with himself as he was with the rest of us, family absolutely always came first for him. He was the Giving Tree of our family, but he was so much more. He had a way with words, as I’m sure any one who has ever read a post of his can agree with. But he could piece together advice in ways that no one else has ever seemed to manage to. Everyday I can still hear his voice reminding me of the things he used to tell Chris, Ashley and me when we were down, stressed, or just needing guidance. He had a way of bringing things into perspective, reminding us what exactly it is we are complaining about when we are otherwise so extremely blessed. My days constantly remind me of him, there are times when I want to text him because I got a good grade or to tell him a funny story about the dog, and instinctively I’ll pull out my phone before remembering, “I can’t do that anymore.” I was at Starbucks with my sister one afternoon, the place was empty except for us and the two workers. Barely audible over the sounds of coffee machines and grinders, the sounds of R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion” filled the background. Just barely audible enough to spark recognition, and before we know it were both crying. Reminded of our dad, our dad and that song. Reminded of the way he used to sing it when he drove us around, smiling and laughing. Reminding us of the way things once were and the way they are now. We spent the whole car ride reminiscing, stories of the holidays, of our dad slicing the turkey, teaching us to drive, fishing on Father’s day, and of birthdays. This year we celebrate his birthday for the first time without him. But we have memories. And pictures. Happy times. We celebrate the life of the man who raised us, instilled our values, and taught us to be ourselves and to be proud of that. We celebrate his birthday, because for the first time, he cannot. Today, I think of my dad. Of the way he loved flying. I think of the way his eyes lit up when he checked the sky as a plane flew overhead. I think of the smile through his voice when he told stories about being a pilot. I think about how truly blessed he was to be able to make a living off something he enjoyed. I think of how truly blessed my family was to have him. I think of how truly blessed my family is to have everyone that has supported us. But no tribute to my dad would be complete with a quote from Yeat’s so, “I heard the old, old man say, all that’s beautiful drifts away, like the waters.” Happy Birthday, Daddy, I’ll always love you.
Happy Birthday, Skipper -
I have shamelessly stolen for use with the Dambusters what you regularly said to us Shrikes: “Flawless performance is the minimum standard.”
I am thankful that Jenn & I were able to meet with y’all for dinner, not all that long ago, on one of those rare times we’d been in the states.
I am still just a tad miffed from times when you quoted Shakespeare verses but I couldn’t even link them to the right play.
I intend to use “Original thoughts: Tends towards zero;
Ability to recognize a good idea: Tends towards infinite” at some point in the future.
I remember telling my wife mere moments after you admitted that I might be trainable — one of the finest compliments I’ve ever received.
Thanks to Kat, Biscuit, and SNO for the share.
Cheers.
Lamont
I just wanted to join those wishing your dad a happy birthday and thanking you for sharing. Nep Lex has been a haven for me since 2004 but especially when my son was deployed.
While I read your accounts and then the comments, I had to wonder: during those years of blogging, did you have ANY idea of the influence “Lex” had on the lives of people.
He really was a great man who changed lives and influenced people.
SNO….you’ll be fine, you had a great instructor. Waiting for YOUR blog as a sequel (just kidding, I know you have many more urgent things at hand…)
Also anxiously awaiting Rhythms!
Thanks for these – your dad has been in my thoughts lately.
Happy Birthday Lex!
I raised a glass of strength and courage at the appropriate time. I cannot believe how so short a time has passed. It feels like both yesterday and forever.
Kate, Ashley, and Chris,
It is good to hear from you. Many of us know your Father only from his blog. He was such a great writer that we all feel we know him personally. To hear from you who knew him best is an Honor. Thank you for sharing.
Scott,
Thank you so much for writing about your Dad, Chris, Ashley and Kate. I loved reading your Dad’s posts, particularly his posts about you guys.
Ashley: He DOES see you. He sees everything that all of you do, because he’s ALWAYS there with you all.
Only a few minutes ago, did I find that his old blog was back up and I’m glad I got to read what you wrote.
RIP Lex LeFon, we ALL miss you…
Hello Lex Kids! That was an awesome set of posts!
Perhaps one day I’ll get to meet your dad in the Elysian Fields.
Hello Lex Kids! That was an awesome set of posts!
Perhaps one day I’ll get to meet your dad in the Elysian Fields.
Wow.
[...] Speaking of Lex, Friday was his birthday. His three kids, known to blog readers as SNO, Biscuit, and Kat, offer remembrances of their father here. [...]
Happy Birthaday Lex and, thank you for your service.
The muse sits easy on your shoulders just as it did for your dad. Whatever your vocations, hone that skill and share it with the rest of us.
Spousal unit and I ducked into an Irish Pub in San Francisco this weekend after the Oregon-Cal game. As we walked in, knowing I’d ask what she wanted, she said, “Guinness for strength, Jameson for courage.” And without knowing the significance of the date, we quietly toasted Lex.
Chris, Ashely, Kat, your Dad left you a huge family of potential mentors who, out of a common respect for Lex, whould be grateful to provide perspectives on flying, the Navy, and life in general. Please, don’t hesitate to ask.
Randomly stopped by for no reason whatsoever, and delighted to see the site alive and thoughts flowing. Best wishes to the Lex family, and fond memories of our fallen.
Thank you, LexKids, you are very fortunate to be the children of such a Man, but I see you know that already. Please post when you can, it is a way for us to keep in contact with the LeFons, and a way to maintain contact with your Dad. Say HI to Gus from an Old Gray Badger, and take care of your Mom.
Than you, LexKids, for posting this. You are lucky to be the children of such a Man, but you know that. Please post when you can, it’s a way for us to keep in touch with the LeFons, and keep in contact with your Dad, too, in a way. Give my best to your Mon, and scritch Gus behind the ears for me.
So, how did the birthday bash at Shakespeare’s go? Inquiring minds want to know.
Paul
Thanks for sharing LeFon children, I heard his voice in each of your posts! Miss your old man more than I would have imagined, wish I would have known about the ninth I would have loved to meet you each in person. May God continue to light your paths, and may your father’s voice never leave your ears.
Lefon children. Thank you for sharing your thoughts; invaluable.
Miss him and his writings.
I met your dad at the Pacific Athletic Club, San Diego where we seemed to exercise
at the same times.
mano
My dearest Hobbit, SNO, Biscuit, and Kat,
I’ve been pondering the past week or so exactly what I should write here. Absolutely nothing comes to mind. There’s a such a void to fill, and I know I can never even attempt to help in that regard. All the words of comfort will be just words, as transient and ethereal as the air that formed them. I was there myself, over three decades ago. It takes time, lots of it, and that’s something only The Creator can give or take from us.
It’s always hardest on days like these. Days you should be celebrating a milestone, even one so insignificant as yet *another* revolution around old Sol, with a loved one. It’s especially difficult with parents, for they hold a special place in our heart and are the first role models we encounter. We used to pull out the family films and photo albums each year after Dad died, which was perhaps the wrong thing to do as Mom always had to excuse herself shortly thereafter. It gets easier as the years go by, I suppose, but I think that is mostly because my memory gets more selective and forgets all but the best of times.
A thought for SNO: The Navy will judge you by his standard, at least for a few years while his shipmates are in positions of authority. They will expect you to be like him. The bad news is that you’ll think you’re forever being compared to him. The good news is that you’ll already be comparing yourself to him for the rest of your life, for emulating our fathers is how boys learn of and assume the ways of men. You will find that you will be your own harshest critic when trying to live up to his expectations. Like all heroes our fathers gradually become the smartest, most perfect men ever to grace the planet as time goes on, and their abilities in this regard only get better as we are forced to rely only on memory. Luckily for you, there is a written record you can review from time to time. It won’t help your reviews, but it will help you to know that your hero was himself as human as you.
– Max
Dear LaFon Family,
Thank you for sharing your thoughts about and tributes to your father. It is easy to spot shades of him in each of you.
I hope you family is able to find peace and joy in the coming holiday season. I will miss reading his wonderful words around Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Brian
I have a good idea how all three of you feel. I lost my father to Hodkins Lymphoma just as finals were starting at the end of my first semester back in Engineering School in December 1990. 22 years ago, yet seemingly yesterday. That feeling of something missing never leaves.
I had an advantage you did not. I was expecting to get the call at anytime, and there is never a good or convenient time for it. When I first saw the news on Lex it felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I know, beyond a doubt, it far worse for you.
Your father was a fine man. One I would liked to have known much better than I did. I get the impression he loved you as much, if not more than, life itself.
Best wishes to the LeFon family.
I wish I could have been with you at the pub, but alas….
Thanks for posting these two posts guys. It is good to see you using the connection(s) here.
Son and Daughters of Lex,
Thanks for the courage to post. thanks for continuing your Father’s legacy, At a friend’s memorial service I had the honor to speak to the assembled masses of Naval Aviators. I did not dwell on his flight accomplishments, his naturally gifted abilities behind the stick, or his unflappable coolness in the midst of turmoil. I lamented the loss of a FRIEND. A friend to confide in, a friend that believed in you when no one else did, a friend that had your back and kept the hangers-on from pulling you down to their level. A man measures success by the number of friends at his funeral, not by his bank account, or the trophy case in the family room.
You were blessed beyond realization due to your Dad’s ability to make you real to those you’ve never met, and probably never will. We became your Balcony People – sitting in the cheap seats but cheering you on in life, and praying for you when times got tough. And we still do. That connection will only end when you want it to end. But until then, we cheer for you, cry with you, lift you up, and celebrate your courage to move ahead and succeed.
When you hit that grand slam in life, lift an ear and you will hear us. God Bless.
Well said, all three of you. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, as your Father did so unselfishly, and with wonderfully refreshing transparency – it’s certainly a trait you three seemed hav also been blessed with.
I just wanted to drop in here and say a word about your DAD.
I posted a time or two when my son was deployed in Iraq.
Some times, I was angry and scared. Your DAD always took time to respond to me and give me a lift and some kind words to keep me going in my support for our troops and the effort in IRAQ. He was a most stalwart man, true to his principles, an American of the 1st drawer so to speak….Thank you for keeping his most VERY FINE NAME with us in the blogg-o-sphear!
Respectfully yours,
Richard
I could not ever make a tribute even equal to the one you gave your father. He was a very fortunate man to have had such children such as you.
JMC
I checked on this site today by a fluke, after feeling the loss all these months. A good friend said you can tell a great deal about a person by the kids he leaves behind. So true. Cheers Lex, I know you’re smiling up there.
Dear LaFon family, keeping you all in my thoughts and prayers. I know how rough these first holidays and milestones can be without your dad. If it is any consolation, please know how proud he was of all of yoiu, and how much he loved you all. And, you have this community of readers who love and miss him too. Thank you for sharing him with us.
Mary
” We had the standard father-son relationship with hunting trips when we could, talked about life during down times, and of course all things aviation/Navy related.”
Not so standard anymore. Too bad. You can really get to know someone when you share a duck blind with him.
I wouldn’t be telling you something you don’t know when I say your dad was a good egg. Not many people can skipper a Navy squadron. Most don’t get the chance. Some who do fall by the wayside.
Lex didn’t.
Lex,
I intended to send this to you first of this year. Then you went and got your clearance for that full grunt burner climb into the western sunshine.
I miss the rational scoffing, good cheer and your attitude. I miss the way you could take words and make me a picture in glowing colors, complete with side comments.
After you got the camera, I tried one and made this for your enlightnment and crit. Thought it was too rough so never got gumption to send it to you. Posted it on utube today. Here: http://youtu.be/ZHJQO4bXPEY, but then I guess you alredy know that.
Family, he is never completely gone until no one on earth remembers his contribution and he takes his leave of their memories. Therefore, a long and happy new life to you skipper!
Fly Safe! Fly Fun!
Bill
Lex,
I intended to send this to you first of this year. Then you went and got your clearance for that full grunt burner climb into the western sunshine.
I miss the rational scoffing, good cheer and your attitude. I miss the way you could take words and make me a picture in glowing colors, complete with side comments.
After you got the camera, I tried one and made this for your enlightenment and crit. Thought it was too rough so never got gumption to send it to you. Posted it on utube today. Here: http://youtu.be/ZHJQO4bXPEY, but then I guess you already know that.
Family, he is never completely gone until no one on earth remembers his contribution and he takes his leave of their memories. Therefore, a long and happy new life to you skipper!
Fly Safe! Fly Fun!
Bill
Thanks, LexKids:
A man can leave no finer legacy than the unconditional love and respect of his children. Together and individually you are each a “chip off the old block”.
This is the first time in months that I have checked back on the blog; wasn’t sure if I would find anything new or not. Your tributes were 10 times more than I expected. Beautifully written. Please continue to share stories with us from time to time.
I wish you and your mother a Merry Christmas!
Dick
thanks for sharing
SNO, Biscuit and Kat (and too, The Hobbit),
Somewhere in the passing of life’s dailies, I missed this tribute to your father. I did, raise a pint to your father’s name on his birthday, and via various social nets made sure others were well aware! Your words of reflection are a fitting tribute to your dad and quite touching. Your father’s influence is apparent in your writings.
I have shared a bit of the life you come from, as my father too was a Naval Aviator, Southern Gentlemen, and yep… a great Dad! Your father’s stories of you often returned me to a simpler time of growing up in the family that is Naval Aviation. (It wasn’t always an easy life, but it’s ours! And makes us all better!). I can’t tell you how much your father’s prose put in words the feelings many of us have, but lack the skill to express… it was a pleasure to visit Neptunus Lex if only to leave it… saying “Yeah, it’s just like that…”
Your father’s quality of spirit is not lost, but passed on through all of us who knew him (Personally, Professionally, or simply though his writings). His ability at prose has made many of us who write for a living or hobby, focus just that much more on delivering a sensible message in an appropriately thoughtful and entertaining manner… most all of us pale in the comparison.
Best of luck in your endeavors wherever they may lead you…
-JC
John Carmichael, Editor, Tailhook Daily Briefing
You all seem to have his way with words. He lives on through you all. Thanks for posting what you did.
Hi Joe, miss seeing you around the web. I hope things are going well for you.
Paul