In Memoriam David Barish 1921-2009

Boston Globe Obituary

My father flew from an early age machines bedecked with dials and engines aroar but somehow he knew a silent soar a silky descent. In his prime wind lifted his spirits while gravity had to bide its time. Like Icarus secure in father's science waxing high in the sky he trusted invention. He declined as son betrayed by sun madness in method as Isaac to Abraham surviving the first cut in sterile theatrics and last ditch efforts of failed expertise consumed by a bitter pill fighting the onrushing earth. Succeeding at last as sacrifice counted out on the ground he finally won for his shoulders the wings of his final flight.