James Thomas Gribble

James Thomas Gribble, Jr.'s (Jim) final flight was on Tuesday, December 2, 2008. He was born June 13, 1915 in Sylva, North Carolina son of Susie Hooper Gribble and James Thomas Gribble and brother of deceased sisters, Sue Avery and Ruth Shrader. Colonel Gribble attended the United States Military Academy and Georgia Institute of Technology. Early on he knew that he was destined to fly and entered the Army Air Corp. He received his wings at Randolph Air Force Base, Texas in March of 1941. For the last fifteen years of his career, Colonel Gribble was assigned to Strategic Air Command and was awarded with the command positions of Vice Wing Commander, Wing Commander, and Base Commander. Across an endless span of memories there are two vivid political/military commands which bear remembering: Base Commander at Little Rock Air Force Base, Arkansas during the Little Rock Desegregation Crisis and the important responsibility and presidential support as Base Commander at Bergstrom Air Force Base, Texas during the Johnson administration. When he retired to Lakeway, Texas, he was appointed president of Lakeway Land Company and was later elected mayor of Lakeway for four terms. He is survived by wife Anne L. Gribble, son James T. Gribble, III and wife Diana Butler Gribble, his daughter Gay Gribble Tigner and husband Ronald E. Tigner and four beloved grandchildren Tom Gribble, Katie Gribble, Teal Tigner and Rhett Tigner. The service will be held at St. Luke's on the Lake Episcopal Church on Wednesday, December 10 at 2:00 p.m. In lieu of flowers, memorial donations, if desired, may be made to the Austin Symphony or flowers may be sent to Weed-Corley-¬Fish Funeral Home. Finally, Colonel Gribble's love of flight is better revered in the piece of prose entitled High Flight by John Gillespie Magee, Jr. for which the Lakeway Air Park is named: Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings. Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sunsplit 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 alone, and flung My eager craft through footless halls 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.