I am Bush Lambert's oldest son Joe, and, on the occasion of my own 92nd birthday, I miss him. I am indebted to him for my own relatively long life.
I remember him arriving at my grandmother's home on Charles St. in Chicago
when I was not quite into my teens, and tacking him joyfully on the front yard. He had just come back from naval maneuvers somewhere. I also remember him fishing with my brother Norm and me in an illegal mill. The results were great, though my mother did not approve of him joining us when she had directed him to go find us. Wonderful days as I reflect now in this period of the insidious COVID 19.