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Subject My sister just wrote the most amazing eulogy about our brother JOHN OLSEN LEAR
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Original Message Last night, when I read what my younger sister Tina wrote about our recently departed brother, John Lear, I was so touched. I asked her if was okay to share it on GLP where John had so many dedicated followers. She replied that she would be honored.

I’ll share her letter in a minute but I wanted also say a few words here about my decidedly distinguished brother.

Over the years, he and I weren’t really all that close but I always appreciated his many accomplishments, his high level intel, his warped sense of humor and his ability to laugh at himself.

A definite high point of our relationship was when dad (Bill Lear) loaned us his LearJet 25 for me to rack up a few left seat hours with John as my instructor. It was one of those times when he and dad were actually getting along relatively peaceably.

We took off from the Stead airport north of Reno, shot a few ILS approaches into Reno and he showed me how, when you’re flying along at altitude and you want to descend, you don’t just push the yoke forward. What you do is throttle the two engines back a bit and that automatically starts your descent. If you don’t do that and you push the yoke forward without throttling back, you’re liable to pick up too much speed and trigger the Vne (velocity to never exceed) warning siren which - trust me - is an honest to god heart stopper.

That’s the only time we flew together like that but WOW - what a great memory.

Back in 2011, just for fun and with his fore knowledge, I posted this GLP thread: ‘John Lear’s real brother’:

Thread: John Lear's real brother

I was new to GLP then and got hammered right away with a lot of flack for being an imposter. Finally John chimed in, playing dumb, asking me a bunch of questions. He kept at it (teasing me) playing totally dumb until finally, a day later, after I’ve gotten all this shit, he says: “OMIGOD!!!! Dave, it is you!!! Where have you been?”

Several years ago my wife and I traveled to Las Vegas to visit John for a few hours at his home. It was the last time I saw him. He was still moving around pretty good and in good humor. I wasn’t planning to, but before heading back to the hotel I was inspired to tell him how proud I was of him and all of his aviation and other accomplishments, and all the information he so bravely came forward with about UFO’s, Area 51, holographic aircraft hitting the twin towers, the fake moon landings, missing children, TWA flight 800, and so on. He sat there listening and I couldn’t tell what his reaction was until he got up and said: “After that, Dave, my head’s so big I’m not sure I’m gonna fit through the doorway!”

Misty water-colored memories…

John, my big, beautiful brother, I’m gonna miss you. Many will miss you. Know this though: your legacy lives on by how you so bravely and selflessly opened the eyes of so many people (millions) to things that should have never been hidden in the first place. What a gift. Truly. All the things you flagged are now one by one being acknowledged. From conspiracy theory to conspiracy fact. No wonder you earned the title: ‘Godfather of Conspiracies’. Now comes the vindication. Sorry you had to take off before the vindication celebration bash. Have a blast in your newfound zero gravity freedom from your old body.

See you on the flip side, Bro…


Now, my dear sister Tina’s heartfelt (and gritty) eulogy to John:

“I got a call today from my niece that my brother John had died. From what I can gather, he went in his sleep. He was almost eighty with an impressive array of health problems, but at least he didn’t die in the hospital. He’d been in pain most of his life, so it’s a comfort to think of him free — really free, free of his body, his pain, his past, and any trouble he carried in his heart.

John was an incredibly complex man — to some a complete crackpot, to a great many others a genius. To me, he was just my brother and I will miss him terribly.

He was a CIA Pilot. He held 17 world speed records, and was the only pilot in history to hold every airman certificate issued by the Federal Aviation Administration. He was best known for his thoughts and philosophies on UFOs, extraterrestrials, revealing government secrets, exposing the legendary Area 51, and as the “Godfather of Conspiracy.”

When he was disinherited by our father, inventor of the Learjet, he threw himself a party catered by McDonalds, and invited all his friends. They brought Alpo dog food. In December of that year, he sent out a Christmas card to his elite list (I was happy to be on it). Front of card shows a lovely picture of him, his second wife and their two daughters…surrounded by the words, “Merry Christmas to you, and a Happy New Year. Blessings to all…” (turn the page)…“except John Olsen Lear,” and there was a cartoon of a lawyer crossing out his name.

It was ballsy. It was hilarious. I adored him for it.
My earliest memory of him was passing by his bedroom when we lived in Geneva, Switzerland, and smelling the sweet mysterious scent of his pipe smoke.

When he was sixteen, he crashed a biplane. It happened because he was showing off his aerobatics for his buddies at Le Rosey (a renowned boarding school in Gstaad). His injuries were so bad, the doctor said my parents should pray for his death.

He’d broken both feet (in his lifetime, he had over 27 surgeries on his feet), as well as his legs, his back, and his arms. Plus, his face crashed into the instrument panel. Lost all his teeth. They had to do a tracheotomy on him so he could breathe. I’ll never forget him showing me from his hospital bed that he couldn’t talk, but that if he put his finger over the quarter-sized hole (!) in his neck, his voice would be there.

I’ll also never forget standing by him, helpless, while Dad raged at him for crashing the plane and did he know how much that plane cost? John was mute, with all four limbs in traction and a hole in his throat. I was five. For decades he and Dad waged psychological warfare on one another. And during the years I still lived at home, the holidays always brought a sense of dread.

Because John was eleven years older than me, and because he understandably put as much distance between himself and Dad, our paths really didn’t cross very much. Nevertheless, I always loved him fiercely, even though I was always a little afraid of him too. But he never treated me with anything but tenderness.

One thing I truly relished about him was his status as a world class prankster. But those stories are for another time.

When my long term marriage was on the rocks in the late eighties, and I lived in Wyoming, he was the only one in my family to actually come to see for himself how I was doing. I almost didn’t know how to act in response to that kind of simple, honest concern.

aMy siblings and I are all a little wary of one another. We respect each other, but we hold profoundly different views about life so we can’t ever really completely relax in each other’s presence. Our parents unwittingly taught us the crucial skills of self-protection at all costs, and so none of us could spare much energy or space to look out for each other.

And now one of us is gone.

I will carry him in my heart the same way I did when he was alive. In tenderness, compassion and love.
May you run like you ran before the crash.
May your heart nestle in a cozy sanctuary, far from all strife.
May you fly wherever you want to, now, unhindered.
And may your soul blossom into its next incarnation.
Wherever you land, may it be an easier ride than this one was.”


John Olsen Lear - 1942-2022
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