Family Memories of Cdr. Norman L. Youngblood Jr.

Webmaster's Note: The Youngblood family is generously sharing their personal memories of Cdr. Youngblood. A number of our memorials on "In Memoriam" have similar shared memories and they provide the human side of the officer we knew. A similar page will be created for any tributes from former Navy members. Send your message to: VFP-62 Webmaster.

In mid 1967, my fiancé Matt, a LtCol F4 "Phantom" driver, was USAF Liaison Officer aboard the USS Enterprise (CVA65) stationed out in WESTPAC with his buddy, Norm, who was then OPS Officer. Hearing that Norm was shortly going on leave to Alameda NAS, where he was dating a Navy nurse, Matt asked Norm to "look up my state side love, who lives in Sunnyvale, and tell her how I miss her" (I worked for the Palo Alto Medical Clinic, department of Neurology & Neurosurgery, for doctors who practiced at Stanford University Hospital). Matt wrote me about the possible visit. I balked at the idea.

Weeks later, lying on the front room couch, still groggy from anesthesia from oral surgery, I answered the phone and heard this firm deep voice identifying himself as Matt's friend and passing on his message. We talked for over an hour before Norm asked if he could come on down and "go out for coffee". I was hooked by his voice, that special deep voice, and fell in love before even meeting him. Days later I answered the doorbell to find this ruggedly handsome man standing on my front door step. My reaction was electric - like nothing I had ever felt before. I couldn't even speak. It was instant love. The next 3 ˝ years trans-Pacific courtship were the happiest years of my life. I adored the man. I still do.

Months later Norm finalized his divorce. His closest friend in the area was CDR Ray Vehorn. Coincidently, Roger Vehorn, his nephew, is a deacon in the Anglican Church I now attend.

We married on May 27, 1971 and I moved to Hawaii. We lived in McGrew Loop Officer's housing in Aiea for the next few years. Norm was with CINCPACFLT under ADM. Cleary.

Norm loved kids, all kids, and after we married, Norm was anxious to adopt my kids whom he loved. Our daughter Pam writes a column for Montana Woman. They have two daughters, one of which is married to a Naval aviator at Lemoore, training to fly the new F-18. Her husband, Bill, USN, ret, was Norm's closest friend in his last few years. Our son Phillip, LCDR, USN, ret, is a professor of computer science at a Texas university. His wife, Deborah, LCDR USN, ret was a Methodist minister.

Norm was very intelligent, educated, and well-read, was extremely articulate, knew and loved classical music as much as I did, genuinely liked people, saw no class structure, had a keen sense of humor, and was a friend for life. His salty asides and pithy comments come to mind often to this day. He was my best and closest friend.

An only child of his father's first marriage, the second marriage gave him half siblings: Russell, USN Ret .an aviator, now a psychologist; Leland (Lee), USN, Ret .also a pilot, now deceased, and a sister Patsy.

To Norm the Navy was his life. He loved flying. He never really adjusted being a civilian. He used to say that "once you had been at 30 grand, nothing else compared".

Norm was never ill. He did have a bad back as a result of an old childhood accident and had recently had surgery to correct the condition. He passed away suddenly and completely unexpectedly, of a pulmonary saddle block (a blood clot to the lungs). I was devastated. I cried for six months. It took me over a year before I could give his things away. His ashes were scattered at sea off the USS Abraham Lincoln. A part of those ashes is with me to be co-mingled with mine.

Lee Youngblood

I thought it appropriate on this Memorial Day weekend to write to you about my recollections of my step-father, CDR. Norman L. Youngblood. Norm entered my life when I was nearing adulthood and he had such a positive influence on our family, particularly on my mom, that I decided to legally change my last name to his (he adopted my siblings because they were still underage and you have already heard from my sister Pam). I loved to hear Norm's stories about his experiences in the Navy, although there were many things he could not share about what he was doing because of the nature of his jobs during the war and with CINCPACLFT, and his influence was a deciding factor for me to join the Navy after college (I have a picture somewhere of his standing over me as I signed up).

One of the first stories I remembered him sharing with me was about his flying some of the first jets in Korea and his first encounter with cockpit air conditioning, which he first mistook as smoke. Of course he also told me of photos over Cuba during the Cuban Missile Crisis and as a storm hunter. It was obvious from the way he spoke about his memories that Norm loved to fly, loved the Navy, and cared for the men who he led and who flew with him. I think of all his experiences in the Navy that he most enjoyed the time he was Commanding Officer of VFP-62 because he had the best of both worlds - he could fly and he could lead. I know he must have accomplished important work at CINCPACFLT but I know he did not enjoy "flying a desk" nearly as much as he did flying jets.

Later on when Norm retired and I had gained enough experience of my own in the Navy, he and I started to collaborate on writing a book on Naval Aviation, particularly after I retired in 1995 -- between the two of us we put in 50 years in the Navy. When he died I found a list on his desk of bulletized reminders of other stories he was preparing to tell me and it was then that I realized that I would never hear them. I appreciate your Web page and am hoping that others have taken the time to write down the perishable stories of those who experienced those heady days of naval aviation when jets were relatively new and it took skills and guts to stay alive.

I feel honored that Norm was in my life, was a part of our family, and was remembered with such respect by his men. I was never the officer he was, nor the leader, but I took to heart what I learned from him and continue to try to apply it to the various endeavors in which I have been involved after the Navy.

Phil Youngblood, USN (Ret.)

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

~a simple tribute to a special dad~

As Father's Day approaches, I feel sad
But I'm thankful for the memories I have of my dad,
A man who truly touched my life
In a very warm, wonderful way,
And whom I miss with all my heart,
This, and every single day.



I don't believe blood is thicker than the bond that grew between my father and me the year I was fifteen. That was when he married my mother, and despite the fact I was a pain in the neck, emotional, shy, teenage girl, a short time later, adopted me. From that day on, he was Dad, and I was Norman Youngblood's daughter. Of all the special moments in my life, that one will always be near the top.

I have always been grateful that during the time when most girls are fighting with their fathers, I was just getting to know mine. That's not to say we didn't have our differences...after all, I was fifteen, but for the most part, we got along. I think it helped he made an effort to treat me like he would an adult, and that he truly enjoyed spending time together, teaching me his interests and learning mine. I don't think I realized it then, but Dad was a good friend to me at a time when I really needed one most. Not only that, but he taught me many wonderful things I still remember and enjoy today. The delicate taste of raw fish (I know, some of you are thinking "gross!") dipped in his own homemade sauce of horseradish, teriyaki, and pepper; a rousing game of gin rummy; how to enjoy a cup of coffee (fresh ground, strong and hot); the art of grilling a mean steak (lightly seared crisp on the outside, blood red rare in the middle); but most of all, how much it meant to a shy, emotional teenage girl who'd never known a father's love...to have one who loved her very much.

Two years later we became estranged. I know it was my fault, at least in how the estrangement began, because at seventeen I fell in love, and---as befitting for my tender age, and the fact I'd been denied permission---impulsively ran off to get married. The last thing I wanted was to hurt someone, but of course, I did, and to this day...I'm sorry Dad. I should have done it a different way.

For years after we didn't speak; hurt (his), frustration (mine--- I honestly didn't know what to do to mend the rift I had created), and stubborn pride (on both our parts) foolishly creating a wedge, until one day my older brother arranged a small get together (he even sent me the airline ticket), and to my surprise, Dad agreed. I was nervous and didn't know what to expect, but I shouldn't have been worried, because the moment he enfolded me in one of his familiar hugs, all the old hurt just melted away. From that day on we remained close, in fact, during the last few years of his life, the man who I ran away to marry---my husband---became my dad's best friend.

I will always be grateful for those last few special years we were granted to spend together again, enjoying each other's company as we had so many years before. We even lived together for a time, when my husband was going through medical treatment at a hospital fairly close by and we needed a temporary place to stay. During those weeks, I'd cook my dad his favorite dinners---homemade cheese ravioli (heavy on the garlic), enchiladas, meatloaf, and spaghetti...of course, heavy on the garlic, too. I swear he could have eaten it by the clove.

My dad also LOVED chocolate. His favorite was a Symphony bar, but he avidly consumed it all...milk, dark, semi-sweet, white. And not just candy, but chocolate cookies, cakes, donuts---anything made with this decadent sweet. He ate chocolate every day, despite the fact that back then it wasn't supposed to be good for him. I wish he could have known it was. That during the last few years of his life he could have consumed his favorite treat without so much as a hint of guilt. Although, knowing my dad, he probably did! And the strange thing was, I don't know how he managed to do it, but right after he passed away he transferred his love of chocolate to me. I had never craved it once in my life...and then suddenly I HAD to have it. Twelve years later, I still do.

Sadly, my column isn't long enough to truly commemorate my dad, but in many ways, he was a remarkable man. A Navy pilot, he flew into the eye of a hurricane and served in the Vietnam War. He was also an expert at crossword puzzles, and could solve the New York Times with a pen. Though a daredevil in his earlier years, he found great enjoyment later in small, quiet, simple things like just sitting out on his deck, watching the birds in the backyard. I believe he had a bond with them as once one landed on his shoulder and sat there with him, enjoying the view.

I wish we could have had more time. I know it's often a common lament, but my Dad came into my life late and passed out of it way too early. I miss being able to talk to him, to learn from him, to hear his stories. I really should have written them down. And I wish I could have been by his side, one last time as he passed away...but he left this life with the same speed he often flew his fighter jet, and with no doubt, the same abandon. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if he jauntily saluted it good-bye.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. I miss you.
With all my love, your daughter, Pam.

*This story first appeared in "Montana Woman Magazine", June issue 2009, in my monthly column, Simple Reflections. I am sharing it here to once again honor my dad who will always stay close in my heart.

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