The Final Flight of Ed Hiserodt, Contributor to The New American
by Rebecca Terrell
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamt of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew;
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
— “High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
Ed Hiserodt, longtime contributor to The New American, “slipped the surly bonds of Earth” the morning of November 28. He was waiting for a colleague to pick him up for a business lunch later that day. The night before, he had spoken with one of his daughters about driving out for a visit to her home in Colorado. And just days earlier he had sent an email to family and friends about converging at his home in Arkansas to witness next April’s total solar eclipse.
But God had other plans, and after 84 years of (more or less) steadily beating, one of the happiest hearts to ever grace Earth suddenly stopped.
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