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I never met Mike Doty. I never looked him in the eye. Never knew if they were blue or brown or some color in-between. I know that on the street I would have passed him by without so much as a nod to acknowledge who he was. But though our eyes had never met, I knew they had a twinkle, I knew they saw things clear. But most of all I knew his eyes would always watch my back.
I never met Mike Doty. I never shook his hand. I never knew if he was tall or short, skinny or fat like me. I'm sure he looked like most men do and shared that anonymity. But though I never shook Mike's hand, I knew the friendship that was there.
I never flew with Mike Doty. I never flew in an Air Force plane with Mike there beside. I never shared with him the boredom of some flights or the fear on some dark missions that no one ever knew. But though I never flew with Mike Doty, was never in the same Cold War plane, we flew together long ago in a world the world forgot and Mike was there to bring us home each and every time.
I never knew Mike Doty. That's what the record says. But colleague, friend and brother, he was all of that. And, yes, I knew Mike Doty. I knew Mike Doty well. And I will miss Mike Doty now that he is gone.
Someday we all will fly again. Together in the sky. Times may change but not respect and admiration, values and great deeds. Every mission it is different; every mission is the same. The eagles will assemble and, with Mike, we'll soar again.
Rest in peace, Mike.