Mary was practicing for a PSA she had to film tomorrow. Also, she let me know her new fall collection was going to be neat. Even the big girls would like it. Big girls being twelve and up.
When talking to my parents I let them know that the military was going to give all my money back, this included the good faith money and the twenty percent down. Altogether it was about a million dollars. Rather than take the cash, which might result in a tax hit as it had been moved in and out of the country, I wanted to leave it in the trust for the Hall.
Dad suggested I create a new trust under the control of the Hall’s board of trustees rather than directly by the military. This way the money would only be spent on local issues. Otherwise, it would be treated as fungible and disappear on some idiotic scheme. That made sense to me. Dad told me he would handle it with Jim Williamson.
I asked how their projects were going. Mum was becoming a star attraction on the charity benefit circuit. Everyone wanted her there for her money. She didn’t mind as long as it was a worthy cause which actually directed the money where it belonged. She had a list of some pretty big names she wouldn’t give a farthing.
Dad's business front was going well. He was becoming a media mogul. His holdings in newspapers, TV, and radio were now so large he was considered an opinion shaper, and not in a good way. Did I say my Dad was a troublemaker?
On Monday the Hall’s Board contacted me and invited me to a formal dinner, dress uniform on Friday night. I was specifically requested to wear an RAF dress with Group Captain Rank.
I got to add a ribbon to my bar when the postman dropped off a package. It was the Meritorious Service Medal and ribbon. I thought they had ceremonies for these awards? It was the Army version which I liked better than the RAF presentation.
Maybe I was still miffed at the RAF.
I spent the week running. I would run in the morning and then again in the late afternoon. I had no idea how many miles I ran, it seemed like I had to keep moving. I also gave some thought as to what I was going to do with the rest of my vacation. It was only the last week in August and I had all of September yet.
Maybe I would fly to Rome. I wondered if Sophia Loren would need a rescue.
When Saturday evening arrived I dressed up in my RAF uniform for probably the last time. Hamilton made sure everything was in order. When I arrived at the Hall there was an Officer in uniform waiting for me. He held me back for a few minutes as the Hall filled. When it looked like all were there he escorted me in.
As we broke the plane of the door I heard, “Attention on Deck, Sir Richard Jackson arriving.”
To have a room of over two hundred people stand at attention when you enter a room is an experience. I had enough wit about me to say, “As you were.”
The evening was to celebrate the founding of the Hall and to thank me for my part.
It is embarrassing to hear praise like that piled on you. The highlight was when they read the text that would appear on a plaque that would be posted at the entrance inside the building.
It would be cast in bronze like a historical marker. They had written the true story of my actions in identifying the need for better housing and the acquisition of it. They even put a line about how I was un-seconded from the USAF and RAF. That would go over well.
I wondered how long the plaque would remain. During a visit many years later it was still in place, starting to acquire a patina. At a place like Oxford, it could be there for another five hundred years.
People wanted to shake my hand left and right. I was asked to say a few words. I took the opportunity to tell them about the new trust that had been created earlier in the week. It was to be used at their discretion. Furniture, books for the library, even the infamous class notes would be possibilities. These were suggestions, not orders.
Needless to say, that received an enthusiastic response. I closed that they should get to know their fellow officers in all branches and countries of service. Here was a new old boy’s network in the making.
I was getting tired of shaking hands but I couldn’t turn away the last two young ladies that came up to me accompanied by their mothers. I expected to be thanked for their nice new bedrooms at their new house or something.
They were about six.
“Is it true that you are the brother of The Mary Jackson?”
Okay, I was getting a little big-headed, but come on.
“Yes, I am.”
They proceeded to tell me how neat she was and that her clothes were Brilliant!
This went on for a few minutes. I told them I would be certain to let Mary know she had fans in England. I got their names and addresses from their mothers. I told the Mums that I would make certain Mary sent something.
Later on, I got a note from Mary that she had sent them each an outfit from her collection, and an autographed, Feed the Puppies t-shirt.
I’m glad that six-year-old girls know what is important in the world. I also wished that some seventeen-year-old
