In the spring of 1949 my grandfather, John Headen Thompson, was buried from this church. In the summer of 1953 my cousin John Headen Thompson the Third was buried from here. And now in the Spring of 2012, one day short of his 97th birthday, we say goodbye to the last of the John Headen Thompsons, or Headen as he was known to his family and friends and John to his fellow hams.

    By any name he was a remarkable man who did not have a mean bone in his body. He really didn’t. He was tolerant of almost everyone except perhaps union organizers and the 7 or so inept Democratic administrations he lived through. 

   In a family with more nuts than a can of Planters, Headen  was an oddity by virtue of his very normality. A vintage Geek. A beloved nerd with zero fashion sense. A wearer of sensible golf hats.  He was most  outwardly ruffled only when watching a Yankees game. I do not remember ever hearing him raise his voice, though he had a sound and a laugh that was like no other on Earth.
   I saw more of this aged Ham than I saw of my own unsainted father. Headen and our beloved Mary came to baptisms and graduations, birthdays and weddings, art openings and many a meal at our Norfolk house. He feared butter as much as he disliked turnips.  He was a peas and carrots kind of guy. And please, cook them to death. None of this al dente nonsense.
     Headen had allergies. Mary had dogs, stray cats and roses. Headen was punctual. Mary not so much.
    Headen started work at a very young age and never stopped. First selling magazine subscriptions and delivering his father’s paper. Then later working his entire career at the Torrington Company which, it must be noted, did not survive without him, though the buildings whose construction he supervised still stand.
   Speaking of which, at the same party years ago where he cornered me and lobbied for Barry Goldwater, Headen told me a story about the construction of one of the Torrington Company buildings. It seems he got an anonymous call one night and in that call it was made quite clear that personal injury would ensue if O&G was not selected to pour the concrete.
   Headen loved the Torrington company and the people he worked with. He also loved the Rotary Club. Tuesday at lunchtime was inviolate. He enjoyed the speakers and the comraderie and, when Mary dragged him on overseas trips, he relished the club’s international aspect.
     And then there was golf and the weekly poker games. I think he was better at the latter than the former. He was also an avid photographer and a good one at that.
    But his passion of passions was the radio! Amateur radio. W1BIH/PJ9JT. His signal found its way to almost every country on Earth. Over more than 60 years he talked to hundreds of fellow hams, including commoners and a King.
   Headen was Honored  by the CQ Hall of Fame which inducted him in 1994. At the time he was one of 13 others who had been so honored. It was an amazing moment for him and one that pleased this humble man enormously. It almost blew his cool!

   His father founded the Torrington Historical Society and Headen became a lifelong and enthusiastic supporter of that very very important organization. 
   He served on the Vestry here at Trinity and came to Sunday services regularly, propelled not so much by a deep and  undying faith as by Mary. In their later years church on Sunday was followed just as faithfully by lunch at Red Lobster and then radio time with Bev and Bernie and Alan.
   Headen class of 1936 was extremely loyal to Worcester Polytechnical Institute where, 25 years later,  I happened to stay in the home of the acting President on several occasions.  Dr. Price vividly remembered Headen warmly and clearly.
    Mary and Headen established the Harold Pierson ’14 Memorial Fellowship in honor of her father, also a graduate of WPI. The endowed fund is earmarked for medical research likely to result in near-term benefits to humankind.
     In this loud and dangerous, self-centered and vulgar world, Headen was calm and the personification of goodness. A model to be emulated.  A remarkably decent human being. This is not just funereal rhetoric. It is fact.
    By contrast it is frightening to think that we are now the older generation. Only Louise Carter from the Holley Place gang is still alive. Yikes. What a sobering thought.
    So, W1BIH/PJ9JT.  73 dear man. 73 SK. Box One Torrington CT is empty.