My father died this past Veteran’s Day, at the nursing home he lived at just over a month. He had not been well, but I think we were blind to how quickly he was going downhill. He suffered from Parkinson’s and dementia, but after countless neurological consults, nobody could apply a definitive label to his condition. Not that the label is really important, but it’s a convenient handle by which others can grasp at a condition: “Ah, Alzheimer’s. I knew someone with Alzheimer’s. Terrible thing.”

What follows is the eulogy I did my best to deliver at his funeral, this past Friday, November 19.

My father, Paul Stewart, or Jim, as you may have known him, had a good, long life. Over the course of his 81 years, he was a loving son, brother, husband, father, and grandfather. He grew up mostly in the suburbs of Chicago, during the Great Depression and the era of World War II.

In 1960, he married Josephine Smania, and they spent the first year of their marriage in Spain on a Fulbright scholarship, while my dad researched Spanish history. When they returned, he taught in Lafayette, Louisiana, then at Lawrence College, in Appleton, Wisconsin, where my sister was born, then at Washington State, in Pullman, where I was adopted. Our family then moved to Champaign, Illinois where my dad had a special one year appointment at The University of Illinois. That was followed by a position at the University of Wisconsin at Whitewater, before we settled down in Connecticut. My folks, both mid-westerners, were a little apprehensive about the move to the East Coast and New England, but it turned out to agree with them. My dad taught at Southern Connecticut State University for 22 years, from 1970-1992.

My dad was truly a gentleman and a scholar. He would never fail to smile and hold a door open for a woman, nor fail to give up his seat on the bus either, even in his old age. Always polite, always courteous, never arrogant or boastful, never mean or spiteful. Almost always patient, with everyone except himself. The only malice I can remember in him was directed towards the Gypsy moth caterpillars that some years threatened the trees in his yard. Those he squished with abandon, and perhaps a little glee.

He was the consummate professor, spending most of his time in his home office reading, grading papers, preparing lectures, and writing his books. While I knew he was doing important work, and we were discouraged from interrupting him, he never seemed to resent interruptions. And though my one-on-one time with him for games (and other such childish pursuits) tended to be parcelled out in half-hour chunks, his teaching job meant that he was around home much more than other kids’ dads, and he was always approachable.

When he wasn’t working in his office, dad could almost always be found doing something useful — cleaning the house, doing yard work, refinishing furniture. He may not have been the most handy person with a hammer and screwdriver, but he had a real way with refinishing. He would pick up pieces of furniture that was left on the curb for trash, bring them home, and restore them. I suspect that half the pieces of furniture in our house were trash picks that he resurrected. And when he was working on those projects, he loved to listen to music. His two favorite radio programs were the live broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera, and a Latin Jazz program, partly because he enjoyed the mental exercise of hearing the Spanish. He also enjoyed singing, and would croon popular songs from the 40’s or maybe early 50’s while working. Not one for luxuries, he refused to buy a car with a radio, so on long trips (and there were many, as we never flew anywhere), we would often sing to pass the time.

As a child of the depression, my father was a life-long saver of money. He was, though, always generous with others: he loved buying jewelry for my mom, sometimes rather extravagant pieces. But he was invariably frugal with himself. In fact, I suspect my mom bought him most of his clothes. He would wear socks and t-shirts until they were threadbare. And then he would wear them more. In fact, I think my mom had to cut up his old clothes into rags to ensure that he wouldn’t wear them any longer. And they wouldn’t last long as rags! This thriftiness was such an integral part of him, so ingrained in his being, that I’m pretty sure that even with his dementia, he must have been aware that his Medicare coverage was running out at the nursing home, and he couldn’t stand the thought of all that money being spent on him. I’m convinced that was what did him in.

As an adult now (or nearly so), and as a father myself, I appreciate all the more the man that he was. As I strive to be a good husband and father, I know that I have a good example to follow. And while he may have set the bar impossibly high, I know that my dad’s spirit will always be with me to encourage me to do my best.

Yesterday was our longest driving day, covering about 465 miles, and leaving about 120 miles for today. We are currently having a relaxing morning with my parents in North Haven, Connecticut.

Last night we stayed with Matt and Caryn and their family. Matt and Caryn lived in Belmont eleven years ago, where we attended the same church. At the time, we both had children one year old, about the only two kids in the church. They left for Arkansas about eleven years ago, where Caryn’s family is from. We’ve had occasional letters from them in the intervening years, and as with most of our friends, they are better correspondents than we.

In spite of our lack of communication, when Susan emailed and told them we’d be driving through Arkansas, they opened their hearts and home to us, and hosted us for dinner and breakfast, and shared with us their warm, cozy home for the night. The epitome of hospitality. Thank you!

Their boys are right around the same age as our kids, and they seemed to get along right away. Their two dogs were also a hit with our kids. In addition to enjoying a small part of their land, we got to meet a rat snake that lives under the workshop, and their rabbit, Bun-Bun. And they introduced us to the game Spore — not sure if that’s a good thing or not

Yesterday, after a short morning at the Grand Canyon, we visited with Susan’s cousin Edith and her family in Flagstaff. They fed us a lovely lunch, and for dinner, Don barbecued up a feast for us, and for aunt Judith, cousin Walter, and his family as well. Wow! It was great catching up with them all, and very relaxing to have an inviting place to stay, and not have to worry about a hotel. Edith and family took in the children, and Susan and I stayed with Judith across town.

Susan and I were married in Belmont, Massachusetts! Happy Anniversary to us!

and we enjoyed some family time together. Around mid-afternoon, Nina, Mike, and their boys, Harry and Jack came over and we headed over to the pool. No more than two minutes after most of the kids got in the pool, the lifeguard shooed us out due to lightning in the sky. We waited a while, and the kids played Mother May I to pass the time,

but it just didn’t seem promising, so we went back to Rowell Ranch for a spell. About an hour later, we headed back to the pool and got some swimming in.

Last night we visited Nina and her family for dinner and catching up. She and Michael and their sons, Harry and Jack, hosted us for a wonderful meal, fun playing outside and decorating their car windows for the Little League World Series games Saturday afternoon. Good Luck, Harry and Jack! Thanks for everything Nina and Mike!

The (in)famous Casa Bonita was the site of our evening repast today, but not just ours. We had arranged for a mini Calvary Reunion of sorts, and met up with our former intern Calob and his wife Sarah, and Nancy and her nephew Jared.

Casa Bonita is more than just a restaurant, it’s an experience. There’s cliff diving (with torches, too!),

puppet shows, piñata busting, and other entertainments, along with an arcade with skee ball, video games, etc.

1. No fast food – Subway is allowed but we haven’t been there yet and Dairy Queen is allowed for ice cream only. Unfortunately some of the food at tourist places like Niagara was not much better than fast food – we have been having lots of picnics. So far, so good.

2. No Wal-Mart – we were directed to Wal-mart when we asked about the nearest grocery store – but we declined and waited for a better opportunity. So far, so good.

3. Return in better shape than when we left (parents mostly) – no great progress to report on this one, but we are plenty active when we get out of the car, so I think we are holding steady. There will be more hiking in the 2nd part of the trip.

Just a little insight into the strange workings of our minds.

More about our fun day at the Rockies game in another post!!!