Eulogy

 

It is said that there are some people in life that make you try a little harder, live a little more, and love a little stronger.  My dad was one of those people.

He was an old-fashioned guy whose emotions weren’t worn on his sleeves, unlike me.  He was not a perfect man.  Then again no one on this earth is.  My dad had a strong sense of values. He was a provider, a mentor, a fixer, and someone you could count on being there when you needed him.  Most importantly for me he was a role model.  

My dad would always describe himself as a jack of all trades master of none. You see he didn’t have the schooling that many take for granted these days.  I wonder how many of you could go from being a plumber, to carpenter, to auto mechanic, to roofer, to cabinet builder, to computer programmer, to construction worker, to electrician, to painter, to athlete, to skin diving instructor, to you name it.  He seemed to be able to do it all.  As a kid growing up I was always amazed at all the things my dad could do.  I was secretly hoping I could someday learn even half the stuff that he knew. 

After college I really started to emulate my dad’s passion to help others.  I joined a fire department and rescue squad as he had done and as his father had done before him.  Well, I think that was part of the reason for joining, the other part was falling in love with the Show Emergency that we watched together on Saturday nights.  I was surprised to learn that one of my fire department members actually worked with my dad.  What a small world.  At least it gave my dad someone to talk to when he came up for fire department events.

Some of my fondest memories were the trips our family took to see the countryside.  I remember how he would love to take his time going through museums and soak up as much information as possible, or just to admire the beauty of nature in one of a national parks we visited.

For those who don’t know it we were a scouting family.  We were fortunate enough to have my dad drive us across country not once, but twice to the Philmont Scout Ranch.  I remember on one of our trips out west the truck broke down.  Fortunately, my dad had a CB and got ahold of a trucker who picked him up and brought him into town to get parts.  How many people could say they left their family in a camper and hitched a ride with a stranger and made it back alive.  Try doing that today, and you would probably make it on an episode of Dateline.

During the trip along the Rockies was the first time I really saw my dad stressed while driving.  He hushed me up when I saw a car in the valley hundreds of feet below the road.  See back then there weren’t guardrails to protect bad drivers.  By the time we got down to the bottom he was sweating so much he had to get out of the truck and wring out his shirt.  Must have been difficult trying to keep the camper on the road and knowing his families lives were in his hands.  Most of the time he appeared very calm; like when I drove up to College in a blinding snow storm.  I never heard him utter a single word despite not being able to see past the windshield.  Knowing my dad was that confident in my abilities was reassuring to me.  Either that or he was internally freaking out and couldn’t get the words out.

 I realized that I have surrounded myself with many friends who have similar qualities and pleasures as my dad did.  He seemed to like everything old.  Old country music, old cars and old movies.  In fact, up to the day he passed away you could find him in front of the TV with some old western show playing.  He could tell you all the characters in each movie.  Funny, I have friends that can do the same thing. 

I’ve had people tell me that I am just like my father; like it was a bad thing.  Well, I wish I could be half the person he was. I would rather be like him than anyone else in my family.  I will always cherish the lessons he taught me.  Like you are only as good as your word; always give 100%; and try new things even if it is hard.  The little I know about fixing cars came from him.  I will never forget learning how to stick a screwdriver down a carburetor to keep the car running and when I actually needed to do it… it worked.  I was so excited that I had to tell him.  Of course you can’t do that nowadays.  So much for that lesson.  Every time my car needed a repair he was there to help show me what to do.  He wouldn’t let me drive until I could change a tire, the oil and filters.  He always said that he didn’t want his daughter stranded on the side of the road.  Doesn’t sound like a bad dad to me.

 If you showed my dad respect he would be a true friend for life.  There were two I know who were his best friends.  They did a lot together but mostly they loved to go hunting.  I’m not sure what was more pleasurable catching a big deer or the chats they had after words.  In any case I am glad he had close friends that cared about him.

As my dad aged, his knee injury caused him to have more and more difficulty walking.  Unless you have traveled in his shoes you may never know how much pain he was actually in with each step.  He soon had to give up those things he loved most.  Fixing cars, hunting, etc.  To keep him engaged I brought him to the Northeast classic car museum for his birthday one year.  He was in his glory.  I let him spend as much time as he wanted to looking at all the old vehicles he wished he had.  You would have thought he won the lottery.

After he was diagnosed with cancer I entered him into a contest for the Wilmot warrier walk as an honoree.  At first he wasn’t happy about it, but once he was dragged there he found an old friend that he talked with for hours.  I guess it was worth the hassle.  Sometimes you just needed to give my dad a little push to do things.

Thank you Dad for all the memories and for making me who I am.  I will always cherish the times we spent together.  I know you are in a better place.  One that allows you to walk without pain, and do things most people take for granted.  I hope that you and Al are hunting and fishing and doing all the things you love to do.  So long for now until we meet again.