Sam's Eulogy

My father died March 7, 2015, at the age of 90. He was quite the character. Because he was never in church unless for a wedding or a funeral, he didn't have a preacher or priest or anybody close to that to preside at his funeral. Delores, my sister, asked her priest to preside at the funeral. He agreed, but because he didn't know Daddy, he told her she would have to do the eulogy.

This is a very difficult thing to do, even if your father is 90 and was never exactly
in the running for Father of the Year. I wrote something to say too, but was not sure I could do it. Delores got up and did a fine job interjecting humor and fond memories of Dad and our family. I was sitting there, thinking, "I can do this too." Then, at the very end of the eulogy, she got choked up. That was it. I knew I couldn't get up there without making a complete fool of myself. Delores understood. So, that is why the eulogy I wrote was never spoken. Instead, I have chosen to post it here.


A Tribute to Sam

The past few weeks and especially the past few days have been difficult. I think Daddy would say the past few years have been difficult. He was a fiercely independent man and having to depend on us has been very hard for him to accept. In fact he never accepted it, always saying when I get stronger I’ll do this or that.

Our relationship was not always a smooth one, but when I remember him I will remember him singing Hank Williams tunes around the house. I can still hear him singing “Hey, hey good looking, what ya got cooking?” to Momma to ask what was for dinner. I will remember hanging around him when he was tinkering on our old cars or tractors to hand him tools and turn the key to see if it would start. I learned a lot about tools and cars that way. I will remember trying to whistle like he did when he was calling the cows. He could whistle so loud and those cows would come running.

Daddy was a sailor till the day he died. He was very proud to tell the story of going off to the University of Alabama in the fall of 1942 and getting our grandfather to sign a form allowing him to join the ROTC at Alabama. What he didn’t tell my grandfather was that it was the same form that allowed him to enter the Navy before his 18^th birthday. He joined up and left for boot camp on his 18^th birthday in December 1942. 

After returning from the War, he met and married my mother, the smartest thing he ever did. He would give her credit where credit was due. Whenever someone would say something nice about Delores or me, he would be quick to say that his wife had done a fine job of raising us.

Daddy worked nearly 30 years at US Steel. He was a metallurgist, chemist, or whatever they needed him to be. He was a smart man and learned several jobs during his time there. His tenure there allowed him to take extended vacations every few years. Because of this I have many fond memories of our camping trips to California and Maine. We would be gone for several weeks, never having a real plan, just taking off in the general direction. He was never one for having a specific plan or telling anyone exactly where he was or when he would be back and that extended to our vacations. I remember him saying often, “Look for me when you see me coming.”

There were a number of years after our mother’s death that we did not see our dad often. In the past five years as his health declined, Delores and I have had the chance to get to know him all over again, develop a deeper understanding of the man who was so fiercely independent and recognize that we both have some of that in us as well. As he was being forced to give up that independence, we got the chance to give to him a gift that he did not want, but he needed, and we wanted to give. It was also a gift to us, a gift of time and of healing. For that I am thankful. 

I hope to see both of my parents again one day, but please just look for me when you see me coming.