Wednesday, March 18, 2020
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I first met Waz in 1989 at our hang gliding site in DeRuyter as he soared back and forth in front of our launch site in his green and white Comet. He was an "old-timer" pilot, having started at the very beginning of the sport when guys were building their own gliders and developing the flying techniques peculiar to a weight shift aircraft. His outgoing nature was infectious, and was a charter member of our club, serving as president several years back. As a highly skilled machinist, he was always there to make things the club needed, like a motor bike powered towing wench to tow hang gliders up, or machining a multi-directional wind indicator to improve launch safety. His living room was a micro aircraft factory where he build radio controlled flying machines of all types, including one functioning radio controlled jet. His latest toy was his drone, which he brought to me to test fly a few weeks before his health turned. Few knew of his musical talent. He had an ear that, once hearing a song, could pick up any number of instruments and play it. In high school, he was first violinist in his school orchestra. His musical taste were firmly rooted in the psychedelic sounds of Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, and Quicksilver Messenger Service.
It hurts more than words can describe to realize I won't be answering the phone several times a week to "Hey, Al. It's me, Waz."
He was truly one of my very best friends for over 30 years. Even so, no matter how many times we spoke, I would always struggle to understand him through his Ukrainian accent. He was proud of his Ukrainian heritage, and often spoke of conditions in the Ukraine when he would return from a visit with his (now) late sister. He was excited to show me the news footage of the president of Ukraine visiting his sisters house following devastating floods in the region. When visiting me in the hospital, he was engaged in a conversation with my surgeon, who was also from the Ukraine, each assuring the other they were the one speaking "real" Ukrainian.
Waz, I'm going to miss you fiercely. I am grateful to have had you as my friend. When I look up, and see the winds are soarable, I'll be thinking of you. When I hear reports about the Ukraine, I'll be thinking of you. And when the pain of your loss passes, I'll have great memories to treasure.
Thanks for everything, Waz. Take care...
