James E. Gibbons

Condolences from the Brethren of the Minneapolis Valley of the Scottish Rite of Freemasonry.

Dear Gibbons Family,

I am Stan Veker's nephew, Tom Bache-Wiig. I now live in Dallas.

As my father was never around, Stan was always there for me (my Mom's brother).

Jim, Stan, another man or two, and a few of us boys were on a fishing trip to Whitefish, probably back in the late '60s. With his sons (my cousins) Steve and Corky, Stan took me, too. It was one of the few "guys'" weekends I ever had growing up, so it was pretty special (I was pretty young, and I'll be 53 this fall).

Anyway, as Jim stood at the back of the dock, nearest the shore, my Uncle Stan was at the end of the dock, whipping his fly lure back and forth, making it whip-snap on the water's surface, and snatching it out, into the air, and back.

Jim had quckily become a favorite of mine (as I am sure Stan told Jim that I didn't have a father, and Jim was really nice and fun toward me).

One of the afternoons, I actually saw this happen: as my Uncle received instruction on the fine art of fly fishing from the much more experienced Jim, Jim stood back there with about two inches left of a nasty cigar between his teeth.

In a flash, Stan, flailing the pole, line an lure in the sunshine, making motions as if he was trying to put a fire out on his back, over-compensated for too much line paying out on a forward cast, and snapped his arm back with superhuman speed. The line and lure cracked the speed of sound on Stan's last backward draw. As it did, the lure hooked Jim's cigar butt, without touching his face, ripped it from his teeth at about the speed of a fast-pitch. Jim's eyebrows went up so high and so fast, that for a split-second he looked he as if he's acquired a front-only, bad comb-over. The lure flung the butt up into the sunshine and blue sky, and plopped it into the lake.

Stan wouldn't believe Jim's shocked description of what had just occurred until he reeled in his "catch" - 2 cents worth of what HAD been a nice Roi-Tan Cigar an hour earlier.

Bittersweet to re-tell now, and in telling the story, I do so with great sorrow for your loss. In the day or two I knew him, he didn't realize it, but he'd made sure, through his kindness and humor, that I would never forgot him.

Bless you,

Tom Bache-Wiig
214-684-4676

Our most sincere sympathy to you all. We have such fond memories of your visits to South Dakota and Arizona with Mom and Dad. Thank you so much for all your years of friendship with us all. Love, Chuck and Jennifer (Engelhart) Stone