October 19, 2012
Ft. Snelling Chapel
DAD
Soon after my great-grandma’s death - when I was 9 years old - I remember lying in my bed in the dark and thinking about how long it might be until my own parents passed away. At the time my parents were around 30 years old - so I did the math on my hand but for some strange reason I counted in decades -- 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90 -- 6 years! I was sobbing! My heart was breaking at the idea that I was going to lose my parents before I was 20! Either my mom or dad heard me crying and came in and corrected my math. They said not to worry - that I would be an old old lady before they were gone.
Sadly, one month ago - the day I’d been dreading since I was 9 came true when my dad passed away suddenly of a heart attack while living in Hong Kong. And I’m only 42 -- my dad was only 65. And MY heart is broken.
My dad was many things - a husband, a friend, a professional - but the only thing I am qualified to speak of him about today is Jerry Palmer as a father. It’s the part of him that only three of us in this room knew him as -- but it’s the part of him that will live on the longest through time.
My dad was a worker. I start with this one because I believe that is what he saw himself as first and foremost. He worked so hard all his life. Partly to be a provider, but also because it was his identity. He was good at what he did - and he loved working. He didn’t always feel respected for what he brought to the table, but when he WAS - he treasured the feeling of someone learning from him and acknowledging him.
My dad was inspiring. In the late 1970’s, after one of his trips to Asia he brought home t-shirts for us that had the Japanese character for the #1 on it - Ichiban. I clearly remember asking him what this meant. Very seriously he told me, it mean’s #1. That YOU are number one AND NEVER let anyone tell you or treat any differently. What a powerful thing for a father to tell his daughters.
He was an ideas man, a dreamer, a creative person. He drew, he painted, and he carved. He had so many ideas for inventions.
He was generous. He loved to help people. He loved doing this professionally, and personally. In the early 90’s when he was working for one of the various toy companies he worked for -- I asked him if he could send a toy for my friend (who was a young, single mother) her daughter, who was about 4 or 5 at the time. He sent a big box full of toys.
My dad was playful. I could go on and on about this. My husband, Tom, laughed yesterday thinking about how my dad would buy toys for the children that were clearly beyond their age level. So HE would play the toys instead. One of my many treasured memories is my dad putting together not one, not two, but three Matchbox race car tracks so that it took up our whole basement and we sat there with him racing for hours. Sarah remembers visiting my parent’s home in Rhode Island and Alyssa, Sarah, my Dad and I became lost in a 2-day marathon of the Nintendo game Dr. Mario. My dad would come in and tackle Sarah when it was her turn to play to try making her lose. Alyssa told me that she and my Dad took a basket weaving class together. Alyssa is also proudly carrying on with her own children my Dad’s love of scaring us - jumping out from behind dark corners and laughing at our reactions.
My dad was a protector. He was always worried about our safety, our well-being. He would check the windows, locks and stove over and over again as a bedtime ritual when we were young. One time he chased a Peeping Tom down the street in his underwear when I woke him up hysterically saying someone was at our door.
He was stubborn. Anyone who knows him would agree. When I was writing this part the other day I reflected on the time someone told me that I was stubborn. And I was shocked! Me? Stubborn? I’m actually pretty easy going. I’m not stubborn ----- I’m just always right. This is a trait that comes directly from my father.
The past thirteen years my dad was living in Hong Kong. He had his own consulting business and his own group of friends there. But two times a year - a week each Christmas and Fourth of July - he and my mom would come to MN together before spending a week together in KY. Dad would spend a couple days with his brother Barry, and then the next few days with us. We played poker and laughed as my dad -not so slyly- tried to cheat. He sat on my couch and we let him watch FOX news on our main TV - now THAT is how much we loved him. He loved my dog Crosby, insisting that I take pictures of him and “Croz” together. And most wonderfully, he spent time with his grandchildren -- London, Zane and Noelle - who know and love him as Poppy.
My dad was human. He wasn’t perfect. He was a simple man, living a complicated life, especially the last decade. But my dad loved his family. He loved his daughters. He loved his grandchildren. And never, not for one minute, have we ever doubted that.
Despite living a world away for the last decade, we’ve still felt close to him. He was the first person to call us at the crack of dawn on our birthdays and sing happy birthday. He would email funny videos to Sarah and then call her and make her watch them with him on the phone so he could listen to her laugh. The evening the 35W Bridge collapsed he called me every 5 minutes for an hour until he heard my voice – because he knew I would be driving that route home from work. He would call Alyssa and ask her to post pictures of the kids, she would do that, and then he would call her back and talk with her on the phone about which ones he liked and what he liked about them. He was always encouraging and giving her tips on her photography and pottery – he and Alyssa had a special bond and are both highly creative and artistic.
He and my mom gave my sisters and me the gift of having an unshakable foundation of love and security, and we will pass that on to our own children. It has been my honor to tell you about the Jerry Palmer you may not have known.
Each of us talked to him weekly or bi-weekly on the phone. And the end of our conversations were always the exact same -- never failing --
I love you Sar. I love you Lyss. I love you Son.
And THANKFULLY each of our last words to our Dad were --
I love you too Dad.
