AN AIR OF ADIEU

AN AIR OF ADIEU
A dear friend of mine, Ezra Taft Benson, who had served as the Secretary of Agriculture under the post-war administration of Dwight D. Eisenhower, developed a serious challenge with his ability to communicate late in his life. It became difficult for him to articulate in speech, particularly in large groups since the stress factor rendered it far more difficult. His wife, Flora, who was born in my hometown, and who was a very dear companion to him throughout their long married life was failing in health. The family was at her bedside when the final moments came. The attending physician spoke to their eldest son, Reed explaining that if Ezra wished to say goodbye to Flora, now was the time. Reed informed his father that the time was at hand to say goodbye. Ezra tried with all his might to sum up a lifetime of their very special union. Though no doubt the thoughts came flooding forth, the words would not. The more the stress of the moment rose, the less he could form tidings of farewell. His family ached with him and wished somehow they could do for who that which he alone could do. When the moment seemed excruciating, in a clear, articulate voice, Ezra began: Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you Let me hear you whisper that you love me too Keep the love light glowing in your eyes so true Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you. I’m not sure if Ezra had been able to call up all the vast vocabulary that had once made him a world famous orator, he could have spoken with greater eloquence.