My mother would get a kick out of me, when I was just a wee little boy, when I would go into the kitchen, and grab a chair, and drag it into the living room. JACK was on, and I wanted to do the exercises with him.
I watched Jack through those early years, and followed his life as he reached each and every milestone, while accomplishing another unheard of feat for a man his age. Even at 70, he pulled 70 rowboats in a flotilla while swimming for 2 1/2 hours in the waters off Long Beach. Jack was immortal, or so we thought or at least hoped.
Like George Burns we couldn't fathom a scenario of a world without their hope, their spirit, their drive. But mortality is a reality, and at 96 Jack succumbed to respiratory failure while battling pneumonia.
I miss you already, Jack. Thanks for the memories!!