This evening I watched the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico. It hid behind a distant thunderstorm prior to sinking into a placid sea and painting the scattered clouds in shades of lavender, rose, and pink. The silver sands were washed by the gentle waves of an ebb tide. Tiny sandpipers, moving in unison as a ballet troupe, scoured the beach for morsels left by the receding waters. Huge dragonflies helicoptered about in search of prey. Soft offshore breezes quietly rustled mangroves and palms, and lightly brushed sea grasses, before chasing the disappearing sun across the shimmering water. It was a calm and splendid beauty. I had walked this very beach with Dick Shepard not so long ago. I will sorely miss the opportunity to do so again. We lost Dick to cancer on Jan. 18, 1994. He is buried at the Academy, a place he loved.
Last night, I had a warm and friendly dinner with Marsha Shepard (Dick's widow), Shawn and Kiley Shepard, Dick's older son and daughter-in-law, and Jim Glaza. Scott Shepard, Dick's younger son, lives in Ft. Lauderdale but could not attend. Dick is survived also by his mother, Vivian, from Ashville, N.C. and his brother Jim in Tokyo. Our dinner was at the wonderful new Naples, Fla. home, planned and built by Dick and Marsha, where they could settle and fight Dick's difficult disease. It was a project manifesting the indefatigable optimism Dick had and his conviction that he could defeat this affliction. This home was a project of classical Shepard determination against odds which would have discouraged all but the most stouthearted. He was precisely the fighter at the end, that you had seen years ago on the Academy athletic fields. He never gave up.
During the evening, many recollections of Dick came forward. To all who knew him, he was the consummate cadet, a poster-boy of what you had always idealized about Academy life and its product. His athletic prowess in all he tried was legendary. We were members of the KC-135 unit at Westover AFB, Mass. in our first assignments. We ran, skied, played handball and squash together often. I don't ever recall winning.
He met Marsha while at Westover. They married in 1964. Dick acquired farmland near Amherst, Mass. in the mid-'60s. He built his home here, much of it by hand. He developed Rich-Mar Farm from his land, breeding fine Morgans. It was in this bucolic setting that the Shepards raised their sons. He helped his in-laws start a girl's summer riding school called Bobbin-Hollow. It was a successful endeavor from 1968 until its eventual sale years later. Dick worked at Eastern Airlines from the mid-'60s until it closed in 1991. He flew the L-1011 and the B-727 as captain, covering Eastern's South American routes. Dick and Marsha started Marsha de Arriga, an import company, in 1988. It sold fine custom leather and suede apparel and riding suits, produced in South America. Dick's extensive South American travel led to fluency in Spanish.
Dick Shepard was never lukewarm about life. He was quick to laugh and never complained about circumstances. He embraced life with boundless energy. He was positive, Christian, self- reliant, and devoted to his family. He would work relentlessly at whatever goal or project he had before him. He was taken too soon. Surely his family, classmates, and friends will reflect on the tragic loss of Dick. But tarry not too long, for Dick Shepard would expect you to drink deeply of life, walk the beach, and enjoy the sunsets.
Donations in Dick's memory may be made to the AOG Combined Agency/Restricted Fund with his name in the lower left check memo line. Send contributions to the Association of Graduates, 3116 Academy Drive, Suite 100, U.S. Air Force Academy, Colo. 80840-4475.
(Brian G. Kaley, '60)