Larry McCabe spent 25 years in the United States Navy, sailed around the world for a full year, befriended naval officers on almost every continent, and still considered dropping his daughter off at the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail one of his finest (and hardest) moments. That was Larry; equally at home brokering international relationships at the highest levels of military academia and standing at a trailhead in the early morning, watching his kid walk into the woods with a pack on her back, beaming (and maybe crying a little). He was also, reliably, the funniest person in any room he entered; dry, sharp, and always two beats ahead.
He was born in 1953 in San Antonio, Texas, made his way to the University of Texas at Austin, bartended his way through college, and somewhere along the way decided that a regular life simply wasn’t going to cut it. He took to the ocean, eventually completing a full year sailing around the world; a trip that changed the course of everything. He came home to Texas with a love of travel permanently wired into him, and a decision made: he was joining the Navy as an Officer.
What followed was 25 years of service, a family pulled joyfully across the country and beyond; base to base, state to state, a three-year stretch in the Dominican Republic. Always together, always moving, always choosing the next adventure over putting down roots too deep. Larry and his wife Georgia believed in experiences over things, and they raised their kids, Kelsey and Camden, accordingly. The McCabe family cross-country road trips will always be a source of favorite family memories.
Larry joined the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island, where he spent 20 years doing exactly the kind of work he was built for. He developed and led an international academic exchange program between the US Naval War Colleges and war colleges throughout Latin America, Africa, and the Middle East, building relationships between the Naval War College and naval programs around the world. He was, by every account, brilliant at it: the kind of person who could walk into a room of international military leaders and leave with new friends, new trust, and something actually accomplished. Over the course of his 20 years there, he was promoted from Associate Professor to Full Professor; a distinction that typically requires a doctorate, which Larry did not have. The quality of his work made the argument for him. At other war colleges, colleagues would address him as Dr. McCabe. He corrected them every time. They remained unconvinced. He retired from the Naval War College in 2024.
He loved Jimmy Buffett, George Strait, and Robert Earl Keen. He loved a good whisky. He loved SCUBA diving anywhere he could talk someone into going from the Florida Keys to the Seychelles, Guam, and Belize, where he dove with Kelsey. He loved his trip to Scotland with Camden, where they toured and tasted through distilleries on Islay. When Camden was in high school, Georgia and Larry took him on a dream trip through England and France, tracing Hadrian’s Wall and the Maginot Line before finishing in London and Paris. Closer to home, he and Camden spent countless evenings side by side on the couch, working their way through action movies, sci-fi, war epics, and the occasional mob drama; a running tradition that was as much theirs as any trip abroad. Larry loved, more than almost anything, an adventure shared with someone he loved.
The greatest adventure of his life began on a sailboat off the coast of Hawaii, where he and Georgia decided (the way people do when the moment is just right) that they were going to get married. They did, in a botanical garden in Honolulu in 1984, and then promptly flew to Singapore for their honeymoon. What followed was a marriage built for motion: Germany, Jamaica, South Africa, Argentina, Uruguay, Norway, Mexico, Colombia, and more still. They were each other’s favorite travel companion, which, given everything else Larry had seen of the world, says quite a lot.
In Larry’s final years, Georgia never left his side. Through every hard moment of his battle with cancer, she was there, steady, devoted, and loving him completely. The same woman who said yes on a sailboat in the ‘80s gave him everything she could when he needed it most. Those who loved Larry know that Georgia’s care was its own quiet act of courage.
The family extends their deepest gratitude to the team at Hope Hospice, whose compassionate care and steady presence were a gift beyond measure in Larry’s final days.
His grandchildren, Leif (five) and Finn (one) Hopper, knew him as Popi. Leif had a standing reservation at Popi’s bar (the armrest of a well-loved recliner) where Larry would spot him sidling up and announce, with complete delight, “Welcome to Popi’s bar!” or “Leif’s BACK- he wants another one!” and proceed to mix him an imaginary drink with great ceremony. Leif and Finn brought Popi toy cars to play with in his recliner, because they understood, the way kids instinctively do, that Popi needed to be included in the fun. He always was.
Larry didn’t want a funeral. Ever practical, humble, and quietly witty, he would have found the whole production unnecessary. His family agrees and invites you instead to raise a glass (make it a good whisky), put on George Strait, and think of him the way he’d want to be remembered: charming, diplomatic, surrounded by people he loved, and just back from somewhere worth going.
His family will be honoring him with a trip. Just the way he would have wanted.
Larry is survived by his wife, Georgia; his son, Camden; his daughter, Kelsey and her husband, Kevin; his grandchildren, Leif and Finn; his brother, Brian McCabe; his nephew and niece, Alexander and Natalie McCabe; and Kathy McCabe, his father’s wife.
Fair winds, Larry.
