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Donald Blackmore was born April 16, 1923 in Cottage Grove, Oregon and passed away January 21, 2011, at the age of 87, at his home in Taylor, Texas.
Donald en
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He worke
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Donald retired in 1969 with the rank of Senior Master Sergeant. He was a lifetime member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars and th
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After his military service he worked as a maintenance supervisor for the Austin American-Statesman newspaper, from which he retired.
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He enjoyed traveling, and camping in his Recreational Vehicle. He loved to fish, to ranch, and the outdoors.
Funeral services were held on January 25 at the First United Methodist Church in Taylor. In attendance were the Patriot Guard Riders who formed a line of more than three dozen American flags at the entrance of the church to welcome the arriving family and friends.
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The foyer o
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After the service, the flag draped casket was moved from the church to, and loaded into, the hearse while the Riders stood at attention and saluted.
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The Patriot Guard Riders then led the funeral procession to the Cook-Wal
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Present at the
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The folded flag was presented to Donald's beloved wife of over sixty years, Sarah, on behalf of the President of the United States, the
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Donald Blackmore was laid to rest near a monument for Stephen F. Austin. Left to cherish his memory are his wife, his son, Ron and wife Rhonda of Elgin, his daughter, B.K. and husband Sam of Pflugerville, two grandchildren, three great-grandchildren, a sister and many other dear family and friends.
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High Flight
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter silvered wings;
sun-ward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds...and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of,
wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
my eager craft through footless balls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
With thanks to the Austin American-Statesman for biographical information
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