Wednesday, May 6, 2020
Lech Ignacy Jasinski was a man who journeyed on and led an incredibly full life. It was long, filled with numerous peaks and valleys, and an ability to weather them all.
He was a victim of and orphan of World War II who lost his mother to Nazi atrocities. He escaped the Nazis and Soviets and worked for the U.S. Army in Normandy, France in 1945 and again during the Berlin Air Lift in 1948. A few years later, he voluntarily joined the U.S. Army and served with distinction on the front lines of Korea, even though he was not yet a U.S. Citizen.
Yet despite surviving two wars and devastating personal losses, he rarely felt sorry for himself. Instead, he put his head down, worked long and hard and thrived in his new land. He was a proud, native son of Poland. He was also a proud, adopted son of the United States and a member of its Greatest Generation.
An avid reader, he was a self-made Renaissance Man of sorts -- a seeker, a searcher, an acquirer of knowledge. He could discuss a wide range of topics, including Eastern Mysticism, world history, geopolitics and the differences between air- and liquid-cooled engines.
His professional accomplishments were no less impressive. Among them, he earned an FCC license to operate a radio station, he was qualified to fly a commercial aircraft, and he inspected and ensured the safety of technology used in the NASA space program. Later, this orphaned kid from war-torn Poland rose to the position of foreman at the NYC Transit Authority, supervising a large team of technicians.
In many ways, my father was the proverbial man for all seasons. More importantly, he was always humble, grateful, and ready to poke fun at himself.
Because he believed that death was part of life, he did not view it as a final destination. He respected death but did not fear it. He loved life and did not squander it.
With this in mind, Pop, this is not goodbye. We will see each other again. Until then, thank you for your love, wisdom and guidance. You will always remain in my heart. Your loving son, Bob.
PS: Please know that the great blue heron came to me on the day of your passing....
