Jerry Gabe died unexpectedly last week; he was about 70 and a friend of mine. He was not a close friend – I did not even know his birthday, but we usually talked on the phone a few times a week and saw each other around town perhaps twice a month; my condolences to his wife, family, and friends. When I say he died unexpectedly, I mean suddenly; Jerry had serious health problems, perhaps more than most people his age, but the worst appeared to be behind him. Unlike long illnesses, if you see someone walking around you don’t expect that they will gone just a few days later, but that is often the way it happens.
Jerry was a person with strong likes and dislikes and very little room for things in between. He was a cantankerous complainer to those he disliked, but if he liked you he would do just about anything for you; he liked veterans and fliers the most.
His background included a stint as an enlisted man in the Air Force; I started my military career with an Air Force enlistment so we had that in common. Other things we had in common were our New York – Jewish upbringings and that was about it, a very short list but it was enough.
Jerry’s avocation and business in retirement revolved around airplanes and flying. Until his health prevented him from piloting regularly, he owned a P-51 Mustang and spent countless hours pampering it, researching it, and working on it. I had the feeling that he was most content alone in the hanger trying to solve an aircraft problem. Jerry would have been happiest as an Air Force pilot in World War II, but he was too late. The calendar and the gene pool conspired to make it an impossible dream so he accepted his private pilot’s license as second place. In thinking about life as a series of missed chances he was like most of us in our senior years – reasonably satisfied with our lot, but having some regrets.
His politics were more personal than party; he believed that far too many politicians were ignorant, dishonest, and more dedicated to personal power and riches rather than to those they supposedly served; in that he was probably closer to the average American than in most other things.
He felt that too many public employees were never held responsible for their errors or just punched the time clock, but truth be told, the FAA, a government bureaucracy if there ever was one, always gave Jerry a fair chance to retain his pilot’s license even when health issues intervened. Jerry knew it and even grudgingly admitted it. He worked hard to overcome those problems making comeback after comeback. However, as commentator Mike Wilbon says, “Father Time is undefeated.”
Jerry regularly read and regularly criticized my columns – which often annoyed me because opinion pieces are about getting your views up front with your name on them, something he scrupulously avoided. My standard response was, why don’t you write a letter to the editor yourself? I’m not sure he ever did, but I’ll miss his calls.
All things considered Jerry and his wife Sandra traveled a lot, certainly more than we do – if he saw something he liked he would give me a call from the road and tell me all about it, but the Hollister Airport was always Jerry’s sanctuary.
Jerry Gabe was very ordinary as we all are ordinary and very special the way we all are special – rest in peace and fly.
