One time Joe and I (Steve) went swimming in the ocean in Mazatlan, Mexico. I was only twelve years old and a pretty good swimmer. We went out too far from shore and found ourselves caught in a riptide. After some exhausting attempts we realized we were being pushed farther out to sea. Joe told me to swim parallel to the shore for some time before the riptide would allow us in on her side. We must have swam for an hour. But I was not scared because Joe was by my side. There was never any mention of how he saved my life. The truth is, he had been doing that for forty years. Joe was a lot like our mother Dorothea, the Protector, the Nurturer. Every day I think what if I would have done that or what if we would have done this and nothing changes. It seems as though a moment does not pass without him in my thoughts. What Joe taught Ed and I helped get us safely off the mountain. His abundant lessons will no doubt help me live my sheltered life. Joe’s death tore a piece of my soul and I will never be the same. I will love and miss him forever. - Steve