Himself's Passing

Our Uncle Joe, a member of The Greatest Generation, faithfully served our country as a member of the US Navy Signal Corps in WWII before he began his service to the world in general.

Over the years his energy never flagged, taking bicycle tours of Ireland and other parts of his "neighborhood". His mind received, accepted, digested and shared the greatest power man can have. 

The Power TO DO.

  Despite this great power, perhaps because of it, his soul grew in glory and humility. 

Until today, that is, three days short of his 90th birthday, there strode this planet no younger thinking, more mature and more positive man than our Uncle Joe.

Today, 17 October 2013, he answered the Admiral's signal flag, weighed anchor and joined that Legion of Souls, always at the edge of your vision, standing guard and ready to do battle to protect you against all unseen enemies.

All personnel return to ship. Proceeding to sea.

Uncle Joe with Blogger (Joe is the tall man)

John Joseph McCoy, we sing your praises: honorable son, loving husband, gracious brother, wise father, esteemed uncle, venerable grandfather, reality wizard, religious warrior, skilled diplomat, true high priest, inspirational teacher, perpetual good will machine, and rock steady long distance friend to our mother since our father’s passing … of you we are proud … and honored,
  and yet made small by the seraphim symphony piping you aboard.  

An interesting genetic sidelight to Uncles Joe, Bern and Charlie as well as Joey, Sean and any other McCoy I unknowingly overlooked who went to war: They were born to it. The name McCoy is a derivation of Mac Aodh or Son of Fire, Fire being an ancient Celtic god.

And fire they were, McCoys were gallowglasses (Pronounced Gallow-Glocks), mercenary soldiers, imported by the Irish clan chiefs, mainly in Ulster but also further afield, to aid in the defense of their clan territories. 

A fifteenth century account of them states: "They, the Irish, have one sort of footmen which can be harnessed in mail and basinettes, having every man of them a kind of battle-axe and they be named galloglasses. These sort of men be those that do not lightly abandon the field, but bear the brunt to the death. These men are commonly wayward by profession than by nature, big of limb, burly of body, well and strongly timbered, chiefly feeding on beef, pork and butter." They earned their reputation the hard way and were the biggest reason the chiefs Uí Neill slowed the English advance northward from the Pale for several hundred years.