Kenneth White -- or Kenny, as my Dad, four years older, called him -- descended from some of the founding families of our home town, just as my family did.

His wife held my mother's job as home economics teacher before Mom did, his son, Dad and I spent many a spring day working calves or hogs, and our families saw each other at church every weekend.

We were proud of his daughter as she went on to be a Nebraska cheerleader and then a flight attendant -- she sometimes worked with a California cousin of mine.

But my Mother passed away, Dad and his new wife moved to the "city" and lost touch, although the families sometimes crossed paths at the big Fourth of July parade or Memorial Day at the town cemetery near the old Oregon Trail.

"Kenny" was one of Tom Brokaw's "Greatest Generation," and a crewman on a Navy bomber, if I remember right. I am sure I heard him tell a story about the engines on his plane quitting because a loose fuel valve had jiggled into the closed position.

"After that, they called me 'the safety wire kid,'" he recalled.

I wish I would have had time to hear more of Kenny's war stories to add to those of my dad's.

When I stopped into the rest home to give Dad the news, he was relieved, in a way, to hear that his old friend had passed away.

It explained why he hadn't heard from him in a while.