CHARLES WILLIAM EDWARD KEY II
as remembered by John G. Keck, February 20, 2006
To me he was Edward, most of the time. Sometimes Charles, sometimes William,
sometimes "Number 2." And then there were times when I used his full name followed by
"you nut!" or something close. Once in a while I would call him "Edard," leaving out the
"w," but most of all I was proud to call him friend.
I first met Edward in about '48 or '49. He didn't have a lot of "free time" like most of us
kids. He was always helping his mom around the house or his dad with the farming
chores, as his dad owned and leased land in and around the Hope Airport. He didn't
get to participate in sports and school activities as much as he would have liked
because of it. He was a hard worker and no stranger to long hours. He would rest only
when the task at hand was done, and then not for very long. Sleep wasn't part of his
vocabulary.
Edward played hard and would try anything, even if it killed him. A couple of times it
almost did! He had a wild spree once and went off on a tangent, but he was devoted to
Jo Ann, his kids, and grandkids. They were his life! He believed in God and was a
born-again Christian, although he didn't wear it on his sleeve. He once won a painting
for bringing the most people to a revival. I was one of them. The preacher did the
painting as he delivered his message. Edward had that painting on the wall in his home
for many years.
Remember the Studebaker he had? He drove it like he was in training for for NACAR
racing. On pavement was one thing, but on those gravel roads with him, I was in
constant silent prayer. We went to National Guard Camp for two weeks one summer
and went on down to New Orleans on the weekend. Needless to say we didn't get too
much sleep; we tried to drink the town dry. Perry Campbell drove us back to camp and
we arrived just in time to eat breakfast (a big mistake!) and then head to the rifle range
with the sun out in all its glory. Between not being able to see the targets for lack of
sleep, throwing up, and the hot, sticky Louisiana morning, it was one of the most
miserable days of our young lives. They say that experience is the best teacher, but one
of the severest at times. Looking back, I don't think we learned a thing.
Edward walked with a straight back and a strut--not exactly a strut of pride, but one of
determination. He had ghostly blue eyes that I can see to this day! He was impulsive at
times, to the point all you could do was shake your head. He must have had one
pooped and worn-out angel looking after him. He and Jo Ann drove to California to see
us one year and stayed two days. He went by Las Vegas on this trip, which in all
totaled four days long!
During his last few years he was in ill health and pain, but he didn't complain too much,
just kept on keeping on, doing the best he could. I remember the last time I saw
Edward. He was out brush hogging one of his pastures. I drove out where he was and
he climbed down off his John Deer. We talked for about 20 to 30 minutes. We talked of
Steinbeck's Mice and Men, of politics, our families, the old days, and many other things,
knowing this may be the last time we see each other on this earth. We hugged a long,
hard hug. He turned and climbed back on the John Deer and I walked to my car. We
waved to each other and parted. That was the last time I saw that brown, weather
beaten, leathered, lined face.
I miss you, Edward.
as remembered by John G. Keck, February 20, 2006
To me he was Edward, most of the time. Sometimes Charles, sometimes William,
sometimes "Number 2." And then there were times when I used his full name followed by
"you nut!" or something close. Once in a while I would call him "Edard," leaving out the
"w," but most of all I was proud to call him friend.
I first met Edward in about '48 or '49. He didn't have a lot of "free time" like most of us
kids. He was always helping his mom around the house or his dad with the farming
chores, as his dad owned and leased land in and around the Hope Airport. He didn't
get to participate in sports and school activities as much as he would have liked
because of it. He was a hard worker and no stranger to long hours. He would rest only
when the task at hand was done, and then not for very long. Sleep wasn't part of his
vocabulary.
Edward played hard and would try anything, even if it killed him. A couple of times it
almost did! He had a wild spree once and went off on a tangent, but he was devoted to
Jo Ann, his kids, and grandkids. They were his life! He believed in God and was a
born-again Christian, although he didn't wear it on his sleeve. He once won a painting
for bringing the most people to a revival. I was one of them. The preacher did the
painting as he delivered his message. Edward had that painting on the wall in his home
for many years.
Remember the Studebaker he had? He drove it like he was in training for for NACAR
racing. On pavement was one thing, but on those gravel roads with him, I was in
constant silent prayer. We went to National Guard Camp for two weeks one summer
and went on down to New Orleans on the weekend. Needless to say we didn't get too
much sleep; we tried to drink the town dry. Perry Campbell drove us back to camp and
we arrived just in time to eat breakfast (a big mistake!) and then head to the rifle range
with the sun out in all its glory. Between not being able to see the targets for lack of
sleep, throwing up, and the hot, sticky Louisiana morning, it was one of the most
miserable days of our young lives. They say that experience is the best teacher, but one
of the severest at times. Looking back, I don't think we learned a thing.
Edward walked with a straight back and a strut--not exactly a strut of pride, but one of
determination. He had ghostly blue eyes that I can see to this day! He was impulsive at
times, to the point all you could do was shake your head. He must have had one
pooped and worn-out angel looking after him. He and Jo Ann drove to California to see
us one year and stayed two days. He went by Las Vegas on this trip, which in all
totaled four days long!
During his last few years he was in ill health and pain, but he didn't complain too much,
just kept on keeping on, doing the best he could. I remember the last time I saw
Edward. He was out brush hogging one of his pastures. I drove out where he was and
he climbed down off his John Deer. We talked for about 20 to 30 minutes. We talked of
Steinbeck's Mice and Men, of politics, our families, the old days, and many other things,
knowing this may be the last time we see each other on this earth. We hugged a long,
hard hug. He turned and climbed back on the John Deer and I walked to my car. We
waved to each other and parted. That was the last time I saw that brown, weather
beaten, leathered, lined face.
I miss you, Edward.
High School picture
click to enlarge
click to enlarge