Genealogie van de familie Schledorn

Mark David SchledornAge: 56 years19562012

Name
Mark David Schledorn
Birth October 26, 1956 26
Pontiac, Oakland County, Michigan, United States of America

Death of a paternal grandfatherAloysius Theodorus “Al” Schledorn
December 3, 1985 (Age 29 years)
Rochester Hills, Oakland County, Michigan, USA
Latitude: 42.6584 Longitude: -83.1499

Death of a paternal grandmotherCecile Alma “Cecile” Huffman
July 16, 1991 (Age 34 years)
Pontiac, Oakland County, Michigan, United States of America

Death of a fatherRichard Kenneth Schledorn
January 6, 2011 (Age 54 years)

Note: Richard Schledorn
Note: Richard Schledorn
Death December 11, 2012 (Age 56 years)

Source: Internet
Publication: Diverse websites | Various websites
Text:
Mark David Schledorn October 26, 1956 - December 11, 2012
Note: Flying West
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Mark David Schledorn
Birth: October 26, 1956 26Pontiac, Oakland County, Michigan, United States of America
Death: December 11, 2012
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DeathInternet
Publication: Diverse websites | Various websites
Text:
Mark David Schledorn October 26, 1956 - December 11, 2012
Death
Flying West I hope there's a place, way up in the sky Where pilots can go when they have to die. A place where a guy could buy a cold beer For a friend and a comrade whose memory is dear. A place where no doctor or lawyer could tread, Nor a management-type would e'ler be caught dead! Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke, Where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke. The kind of a place that a lady could go And feel safe and secure by the men she would know. There must be a place where old pilots go, When their wings become heavy, when their airspeed gets low, Where the whiskey is old, and the women are young, And songs about flying and dying are sung. Where you'd see all the fellows who'd 'flown west' before, And they'd call out your name, as you came through the door, Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad, And relate to the others, "He was quite a good lad!" And there, through the mist, you'd spot an old guy You had not seen in years, though he'd taught you to fly. He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear And say, "Welcome, my Son, I'm proud that you're here! For this is the place where true flyers come When the battles are over, and the wars have been won. They've come here at last, to be safe and alone, From the government clerk, and the management clone; Politicians and lawyers, the Feds, and the noise, Where all hours are happy, and these good ol' boys Can relax with a cool one, and a well deserved rest! This is Heaven, my Son. You've passed your last test!" — Captain Michael J. Larkin, TWA (Ret.), 'Air Line Pilot' magazine [Tribute by Tyler Evans - January 23, 2013 at 08:39 PM]
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