A lessor man might quit but you obviously have passion for Command Ops.
And this is why Theodor Fontane dedicated this poem to Dave:
Dave O'Connor!
"Who is Dave O'Connor?"
"Dave O'Connor was our helmsman true.
To solid land he carried us through.
He saved our lives, our noble king.
He died for us; his praise we sing.
Dave O'Connor."
From CO1 to to CO2
As mist sprays her bow like flakes of snow
Over Lake Erie the "LnL Publishing" takes flight
And every heart is joyful and light.
In the dusk, the passengers all
Can already make out the dim landfall,
And approaching Dave O'Connor, their hearts free of care,
They ask of their helmsman, "Are we almost there?"
He looks around and toward the shore:
"Still another bug to solve.... a half hour more."
All hearts are happy, all hearts are light --
Then out of the hold comes a cry of fright.
"more Bugs!" it is, that terrified shout.
From the cabin and hatch black smoke pours out.
Smoke, then fire and flames aglow,
And still 20 minutes to the next build.
And the passengers, in a colorful crowd
Stand pressed together on the bow.
Up on the bow there is still air and light
But the smoke at the helm forms a thick, dark night.
"Where are we? Where?" Peter must know,
And still 15 minutes to the next build. --
The wind grows strong but the smoke cloud stays.
To the helm Daz turns his gaze.
The helmsman is hidden by the raging fires
But through the bullhorn Daz enquires:
"Still there, Dave O' Connor?"
"Yes, sir. I am."
"Onto the beach! Into the surf!"
"Yes, sir. That's my plan."
And the people cry: "Hold on! Hallo!"
And still 10 minutes to the next build.--
"Still there, Dave O'Connor?" And the answer is clear,
Though with dying voice: "Yes, sir. I'm still here."
And in the surf, rocks, obstacles afloat,
Into their midst he plunges the boat.
To be saved, it's the only way to go.
Salvation: the installer of the next Build!
The fire is out. The ship's run aground.
All are saved. Only one can't be found.
The bells ring out, their notes all fly
From Forums and Magazines to heaven on high.
The city is still but for funeral bells.
For one service only the sad sound swells:
In the procession ten thousand go by,
Or maybe more -- and not one dry eye.
With layers of Changelogs the grave they soften.
Under more Changelogs they bury the coffin.
With golden script in marble stone
The city has its tribute shown:
"Here lies Dave O'Connor! In smoke and fire
He held fast to the wheel; he did not tire.
He saved our lives, our noble king.
He died for us; his praise we sing.
Dave O'Connor!"
At least that's what I remember how it goes.....or doesn't it?