Curiosity was Jack’s gig. There wasn’t a mechanical or electrical mechanism he couldn’t fix. There wasn’t an area of intellectual enquiry which he wasn’t eager to explore.

His best friend died in the war. Not Gulf, but Second World. In the nine years I knew him, Jack became one of mine.

Jack’s curiosity extended to matters spiritual, with a belief system that based on the bible but open to influence from a range of traditions. He had an unshakable confidence that there has to be something beyond this world - some kind of God, whatever that means. One of his final promises to me was that once he gets there and if he could find a way, he would let me know what lies beyond.

He lost his battle against the fading of the light three weeks ago. Although it is de rigueur to say this about the dead, he was truly a good man.

In preparation for the funeral I went to his house, hung around his bedroom, flicked through his diaries. He was there, palpably there. His body was missing, his corporeal presence, his corpse. But his mood, his life, his essence undeniably lingers.

Last night I was shooting the breeze with some friends. A discussion about how the origins of the CIA lie in the Skull and Bones secret society at Yale. Nick tells me there’s a film out recently that tells the story:

“What’s that CIA film called, Lev?� he shouts out to his wife in the other room

As he does so, I distractedly pick up Jack’s Methodist Hymn book and it falls open randomly at one of its 1000 pages.

As I absent-mindedly glance at the words before me, Lev’s voice chimes in answer to Nick’s question in synchrony with the reading voice in my head as I read the title of the hymn: “The Good Shepherd�.

As I scanned the words of the hymn, the first and last verses spoke volumes to me:

There were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the fold
But one was out on the hills away
Away on the mountains wild and bate
Away from the tender Shepherd’s care…

…But all through the mountains, thunderriven,
And up from the rocky steep,
There rose a cry to the gate of heaven,
“Rejoice! I have found my sheep!�
And the Angels echoed around the throne,
“Rejoice for the Lord brings back his own!�

Music by J.F. Bridge, born 1844

Looks like Jack found a way of keeping that final promise.

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