In celebration of John Randt.

John Randt was my best friend. He was the big brother I never had. He was strong physically, tough mentally, honest, loyal and steadfast. A great companion, kind to all he met, calm and comfortable. John lived many lives and lived them well. He was a journalist, a soldier, a father, a husband, a traveler, a keen observer and interested participant in all that the world had to offer. He was interesting; he was good company.

John and I go back a long way--in fact, it started before either of us was born. My Dad met his Dad when they were six and seven years old in Lakewood, Ohio. That began a friendship that lasted their entire lives and set a pattern that John and I fell happily into--best friends forever, no matter what.

To understand John. one needs to look where we started. When we were little it was family and neighborhood. We grew up in a 1950's perfect suburban world. There actually were people straight out of "Leave it to Beaver" and "The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet" in our lives. Our friends had names like Jeff, Mark, Ted and Ray. We walked to our elementary school Monday through Friday and to our church on Sunday. Order, civility. security, pleasant predictability.

Growing up on a small street among family and friends: that is where we started.

East 252nd Street is a short cul de sac nestled up against Lake Erie, in Euclid, Ohio. As kids, we wanted for nothing. Our Dads had steady jobs, our Moms were at home, and there was plenty to do right our doors: baseball in the circle or at Chase Brass field behind John's house, football in ravine, and swimming in the lake or the pool jointly owned by live families. Then there was the beach--source of endless fascination and involvement--canoes and other small boats, and the many rafts we built out of driftwood, which we imagined, to be the Kon Tiki.

"Mom, we are going for a walk on the beach," was the phrase that started many adventures. What would we find today? Another float from a fisherman's net, a message in a bottle. More golf balls, tennis, balls, soft balls, parts of boats, or just useless flotsam and jetsam? And what's going on at sewer No. 1? (Which my Dad called "lovers' lane). Look out at the horizon! Where is that ship going'? Looks like a Dutch flag--maybe Rotterdam? Look at that sailboat! Must be coming back from Put-In-Bay!

Ah, Put-In-Bay! Great escape in the middle of the lake: Family outings, Perry's monument, sailboat racing, bicycle exploring, Round House dreaming, sunset watching; heaven on earth at any age. Day trips on the ferry boat, overnight on Ray Ozmun's trusty "LaSalle" or in the recent years, a week at Sanders' cottages, John's five-star resort. Family, fun and friends!

John had a natural curiosity that was never quenched. He was an avid reader--and boy, was he a reader! He devoured newspapers, historic tomes, biographies, military histories--you name it. He is probably the only person I knew who read all 1500 pages of "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich," let alone several times through.

And, reading about it was not enough. John wanted to experience it. You haven't lived until you've camped out in the American Military Cemetery above Omaha Beach in France, without a tent on a rainy night with John Randt.

Well-traveled, John always took the road less worn, always had his camera ready and always found the right person to talk with to understand the meaning behind the incident or situation he was viewing. And the people wanted to talk to John! He had an honest and straightforward way about his questions that put people at ease. To paraphrase one of John's Army colleagues: "It didn't matter whether John was talking to the lowest clerk or a newly minted three star, he dealt with each with respect and took the time to make sure each understood the points he was trying to make.

John was one of those people who could make you better at doing something than you ever thought you could be. He did it by raising the bar of performance for himself and inviting you to come along. His high school and college competitive swimming career would be a good example. But if you didn't, or couldn't, that was okay, too.

John liked to keep busy by accomplishing needed tasks. It was one of the rules of his life: "Get the work done first and the play time will be that much sweeter." In fact, John had many rules that guided his life.

Some that were particularly important to me included:

As long as you keep making decisions, you survive.

Proper rest is essential to the successful execution of the project. Pull your own weight.

And one particularly important these past few months:

Stay active. Stay positive. Stay in the fight.

John Randt enjoyed life. Whether it was a weekend getaway with Miss Vicki at Rehoboth Beach or Harper's Ferry, a visit to Put-In-Bay with family and friends, a business trip to photograph Soldiers benefiting from the latest Roll on/Roll off technology, or helping me (perhaps more accurately, me helping him) with a project at our Kent Island vacation house, John attacked it all with a plan and the simple expectation of success. It's who he was and who he will always be to me.

So, whenever there is a good sailing breeze (a "favorable" as our Dad's used to call it), I will think of John. When I see a Border collie, it will remind me of him, too. The next time I encounter "Sailor's Choice" wine from Lonz's, (an exclusive Ohio boutique vineyard) or see a battlefield or any one of a thousand other reminders, I will think of John and the difference he has made in my life. And I hope you will, too.

Betty Randt--Thank you for brining John into this world. It's terribly unfair that you have to see him leave, but know that no one ever had a finer son than you and Bob.

Vicki--I wouldn't have come to know you but for John. We are sorry for your devastating loss, but no one could have done more to nurture and help him. You stuck by him even when he didn't want to become a "patient." Thank you for taking care of my friend.

Scott, Marcus, and Shannon--Honor your father in all you do. He believed in you and loved you so much and he always will.

Well, John, you're in heaven now with your Dad and my Dad. With Martine, and Doc and Marge. With your grandparents and so many others. I expect we will all join you there one day. And when we do, let's jump in my Dad's '56 Ford Country Squire one last time and to Put-In-Bay. Just for the memories.

So long my friend. I'm a better man because of you. May you rest in God's peace.

John Randt was recognized posthumously with several awards presented during a private ceremony held at SDDC headquarters in Alexandria, Va. on January 26, 2005.

William Lucas, then SDDC's deputy to the commander--now retired, presented the Commanders Award for Civlian Service, a plaque from the 598th Transportation Terminal Group and the "highly coveted" SDDC Command plaque to Randt's wife who accepted on her husband's behalf.

Mrs. Vicki Kadilak-Randt, wife, and Mrs. Eunice Randt, mother, as well as Randt's colleagues from SDDC Command Affairs attended.

Bill Millar, President

American Public Transportation Association