John Stuart Arthur

My Mom's brother, John, took me on the most marvelous vacation of my life when I was 13. He flew me to England, and together we drove through Belgium, France, Switzerland, and Germany for four marvelous weeks. Since I'm a lifelong mountain lover, the week we spent in a rented Swiss cabin beneath the Alps brings back some of my happiest memories. We hiked, we talked, we drove, we ate, he translated everything for me as best he could in his broken French and German.

We've always been a distant family. We're small, and separated by continents. But family is family, and there was deep love and affection, even if it was almost never expressed.

Uncle John passed away this morning. I have no immediate family left in England.

Farewell John, and thank you.