Let me tell you about a Mann I don't mean your sissy regular man but a special model. You know, the type with the double "N" If he were a car, he be the upgraded heavy duty model code named in the industry as the "William H" developed in secrecy and held under tight security lest others try to duplicate the goods. He's big stuff, but you'd never know it from the Mann himself He'd rather just not talk about it, believed you jest did it... and don't brag. He commanded men made war upon the enemy with blazing guns and terrifying bombs over a lonely sea. Did they shoot at you, Bill? Were you scared? We'll never know since he won't elaborate A man of few words, and those were usually mumbled A delicate whoosh of a gossamer line the silent splash of a fly on a rushing mountain stream Come On Up! Dang. He was in his heaven. He raised two sons and a daughter with reserve but deep love and he was proud...proud but you'd hardly know it A man of few words.... This Mann had hands, strong capable hands hands that made things in gold and porcelain, in wood, and metal The birrrr of the drill, the whine of the saw the smell of cedar. A man of few words. And how he loved his Margery There wasn't nothing he would't do for her. But he's grumble more than a bit and say something was too dear But next week it would be there. For her. This Mann was dignity, the very definition of it. Strength of character. But humor lurked and a smile and a twinkle of the eye (if you were lucky and paid attention). We'll miss you Bill