- 87 years old
- Date of birth: Sep 30, 1927
- Place of birth:
Hoquiam, Washington, United States
- Date of passing: Feb 23, 2015
- Place of passing:
Bothell, Washington, United States
|Let the memory of John be with us forever|
Memorial services will be held on Saturday, March 14th at 11:00 am at Maltby Christian Assembly, 9322 Paradise Lake Road., Snohomish, WA 98296 with reception following.
Memorial gifts can be made to: The Church at Maltby with Memo PTW (Prime Time Wednesdays), 9322 Paradise Lake Road, Snohomish, WA 98296
"Our family has known John since we became neighbors on 95th Drive over 15 years ago. John was such a kind and patient person (except for that one time when his dog Whitey distracted him and he locked his keys in the car!). There was a peace about him; he easy to talk with and interesting to listen to. We always enjoyed hearing his perspective on current or historical events, the latest book he was reading, or the lessons he'd learned along his journey through life- whether it how to appreciate the good in others or how to grow perfect tomatoes.
Rest in Peace, John."
"Summing up my father’s life, I keep coming back to one thought. Never will you meet a man who more faithfully lived his values.
My father was a teacher of all things. His method was simple. He taught by example. In my life, whenever I’m faced with an ethical dilemma, after reflection, study, or even rationalization, I find myself coming back to one simple question. What would Dad do? His character is the foundation of my conscience.
My father was, simply put, my hero. He spent his life in service of people. He could have used his considerable intellect chasing down wealth and power, and I have no doubt that he could have acquired both, but instead he chose to serve. My dad is one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, and he chose a life of service. And more than that, he had a fundamental and deep respect for the people he served.
Because my father’s intellect was really only matched by his humility. It didn’t matter how smart he was, he respected the gifts and the intellect and the lives of the people he served – and really of all the people he ever met.
One of the many lessons I learned from him was that you should never use your own intellect to make others feel less smart than you, but rather as smart or smarter than you, and that if you respected the ideas and perspectives of others, you could and would learn from anyone and everyone. My dad believed that whatever gifts one was given, they had to be spent lifting others up, not putting them down.
My father was deeply committed to his work. He rarely missed a day over a career that spanned over 33 years. When he retired from Seattle Public School District, he had more than 230 days of sick leave accumulated.
My father never let anyone down. He fulfilled every obligation he ever undertook. His word was his bond, and everyone knew it.
My father was self-made and self-reliant. From his education to his career, from his skill communicating with every kind of person imaginable, my Dad engaged with the world as a man who would quietly be it’s master.
My father relished the good things in life including art and music, Husky football games, good food, and friends and family. While he never cultivated the intense relationship of a best buddy, or hunt or fish or play poker with the boys, the number of people who called my Dad “friend” was legion.
I don’t believe my father ever made an enemy. Not one. While he most surely came across a few people he couldn’t countenance, he solved the problem by simply avoiding them whenever possible.
He always insisted to us that violence never solved any problem. I once visited his office at school. He had 25 paddles hanging on the walls of his office, made for him over the years by his students. I remember him telling me that he never had to actually USE the paddles, that the image of them hanging on the walls was usually enough to get a kid that was sent to his office to behave.
My father was loyal. His faithfulness to the important people in his life could be seen in the way he maintained ties with his childhood friends. From the town of Hoquiam, WA where he was born and raised, through the weddings, baptisms, holidays, and now wakes and funerals that are the arc of life, my Dad could always be counted on to be there.
My father was never stingy. Though he was a child of the Depression who understood the value of a dollar and the importance of saving, the generosity he expressed with his money matched his generosity of spirit.
My father loved a good joke, especially puns. Yet his sense of humor was never mean spirited, nor designed to hurt or humiliate. I never once heard him utter a racial slur, nor did he ever treat anyone, of any station, with anything other than respect and kindness.
He loved my mother with every bone in his body, his visible affection overcoming his usual reserve. Dad’s unflagging support of our mom, especially in the wake of her long health struggles helped to bring us balance, creating a childhood for us that today seems like a lost American dream.
My father had a quiet dignity, respecting himself the way he respected others.
Dad, if your life is to be measured by the number of people whose lives you’ve touched, then you did good, Pop. You did real good."
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