is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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eulogy for my dad.
I've been thinking a lot about the work of grieving since my dad died. It is quite a passage, and strange how even years of preparation for a loss cannot be sufficient preparation. I have a lot to say about that, and am working through figuring out how to say it. I thought a good way to begin would be to post the short speech I made at my dad's memorial service. We didn't have one structured eulogy. Instead we had planned comments by me, his two brothers, and two of his best friends, followed by other comments by many friends and colleagues who came to celebrate his life. We also had some readings: from Ecclesiastes, but also from Keith Richards and FDR. And we ended with a New Orleans-style march--it was perfect, and I thank my Uncle Ken for coming up with the idea and finding the local Dixieland band. I was moved by the wonderful things people had to say about my dad, and surprised by some of the things I learned about someone I thought I knew really well. More about that later. For now, the eulogy.
***
My parents were very young when I was born, and they also come from the rock-n-roll generation, so there was, in some ways, less of a generational divide between us than there is between many parents and children.
It leads to some funny situations.
Like when you are in high school and your parents are having a 4-day 10-keg party, and their friends are sleeping in tents on the lawn, and thus all your friends want to come over, and your friends think it is the coolest thing ever. Except for that one friend who suspects there is some degenerate behavior going on. Both sides are right.
Or the time when one of your high school friends tells you that she leaned out of a car to howl at an attractive young man only to realize it was your father walking home from BART.
Or when your dad drops you off on the back of his motorcycle for the first-day move into the dorms in college, and a couple of weeks later your dorm-mates get up the courage to ask you about your older boyfriend.
I could easily tell 100 of these anecdotes.
But I'd like to say a few more serious things.
Mostly what I'm grateful for is my dad's love. We live in a world where we like to take it for granted that parents love their children. But taking that for granted makes us miss all the varied forms that love can take, or fail to take.
We all arrive in the world as infants, helpless, at the mercy of those who happen to be there, where we land. And so, if we end up well-loved and protected, it is in part a form of moral luck.
It is luck that I landed with Randy and Cheryle Stauffer, rather than ending up an orphan of war or a member of a family that did not have enough love or protection to offer.
I was lucky. There was never a day in my life when I did not know that my dad loved me, was proud of me, and that he wanted nothing but the best for me.
Don't get me wrong. We had the average father-daughter relationship, with its ups and downs, and, because we are Stauffers, there was yelling and slamming of doors.
But even when we didn't see eye to eye, I didn't doubt his love. I was lucky.
So, a story. As I mentioned, my parents had me when they were very young. I suspect that it was not a plan they hatched in advance. Because of this, my dad didn't finish college in precisely the way he had intended, nor did he go on to advanced study in graduate school as he had hoped, or do a lot of world traveling.
I, on the other hand, finished college, and graduate school, and traveled a lot. So I just assumed, somewhere in the back of my mind, that my dad must, on some level, have been kind of bummed about the things he didn't get to do. It was just one of those ideas I had that I never really tested for its truth value.
Until one day at the diner across the street from his office at the water department, when we were lunching and talking about him going back to school once he retired.
He was excited to add taking graduate courses to the intense habit of reading he had always had. But he worried about feeling out of place. I told him that, in my experience as a college teacher, older students know much better why they are in school. He wasn't going to feel out of place, because he would know why he was there, unlike many of the younger students who aimlessly wander through their classes.
Then I said: "I know you don't regret having two daughters, but it must have been kind of disappointing to you to have your life plans halted like that at such a young age."
He looked shocked when I said that. And then he said: "Never for one minute."
Our family friend Vanya Akraboff said a similar thing to me when my dad was in the hospital and I was saying to her how sad I was that he wasn't going to get to do the things he had planned to do in retirement, like running every day, playing in his rock band, and going back to school.
She said: if you think about your dad, and the kind of life he lived, and how he lived it, you'll realize that he had a very good life.
And he did.
It is still sad that he did not get to do those things. Every life has some of that sadness. For me that sadness, in my own life, from this point forward, will include not being able to talk to my dad about politics, television, his plans, or my own hopes and disappointments.
But this is one of the things I learned from him. View the world as if the glass is always at least half full. It you do, it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Those of you have spent time with him in the last three years know how thoroughly he lived that belief.
I'll end with some other things I learned from him:
1. Don't treat human beings like they are invisible. This applies to all human beings, including homeless persons and people you don't like so much.
2. If you try to imagine another person's life story, it usually makes you treat that person better. Usually.
3. Don't eat the last greek cookie.
4. Sometimes slamming a door because you are angry will make you feel better. But then you're going to have to apologize for it later.
5. When you visit your family, try to stay at a hotel.
And finally, 6. You can;t take your money with you when you die. So make sure you have enough for retirement, give to those who need your help, and then spend it on things you treasure and people you love.
11:27 a.m. - February 21, 2012
andrew - 2012-05-07 03:15:54
test
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