Our Dad
We should be having Cowboy Bob’s birthday/ Father’s Day party right now instead of his funeral. We were planning a barbecue here at my mom’s for the occasion. I spoke with my dad at the beginning of June to start the planning. He was so excited. That was the last conversation I had with him. He told me he bought a car and wanted to drive it out for a visit. He loved his cars. He loved his guitar, too. He loved his coffee and his moccasins (which he called “mossacins”). I really hope that this service is a tribute to who he was and I thank each of you in joining our family to remember and honor him.
We all know that dad was a very special person. He was a loving father to us, but he was also a kid at heart. He spent a lot of time playing with my kids and the other neighborhood kids as they came over. He would tell them all stories or sing songs, play the guitar and teach them how to play like him, and even sit at the kids table when it was time for cake. It was not uncommon to see him rolling on the floor to entertain the kids. He really knew how to have a good time. He may have done this because he never really had a childhood of his own. Many of his friends may not know that he was orphaned at a very young age. He never let his unfortunate childhood make him bitter, though. He loved life and he loved to laugh. He also loved to make other people laugh. There is not a single visit that I can recall when he did not induce comedy, sometimes purposefully – sometimes accidentally – but that is part of the reason why people enjoyed his company. Cowboy Bob made us all laugh – whether he was saying something silly, rolling on the floor with the kids, or just making a goofy face for our benefit – all that mattered was that he could pull a smile out of anyone he encountered. And he knew everyone. Whenever we stopped at a gas station, he would say “Oh, I know that guy” and proceed to try to talk to someone I had never seen. I didn’t believe him at first and kind of sunk down behind the steering wheel, but sure enough, that guy would recognize him and say “How ya doin’, Cowboy Bob?” I can’t even count the number of times that happened over the past 20 years. Eventually, I just believed him when he said he “knew that guy.” He had that genuine magical quality about him that made people feel like they’ve known him their entire lives.
He was also an incredibly strong man. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but that man could do some superhuman things. I remember one time in high school, my best friend Wendy drove her van over to my apartment and someone had parked their car too close to her van when she was trying to leave. My dad came out and said, “Well, we just have to move the van over”. I thought he was kidding, but he picked up the back of the van and moved it over about a foot so that Wendy could back out. I am sure we all have stories like that about him.
My dad spent almost every holiday with us. My kids were very close to him. My neighbors became close with him. Even my cats loved him. Every time he came over, they would come over and sit with him or on him. They say animals are a good judge of character. He was a very kind man. He chose to see the good in everyone and everything. And he taught me to do that too. This was his greatest gift to me. There is not one person who knew him that didn’t think a little differently after a conversation with him. He just saw the world in a more hopeful way. He was the eternal optimist - sometimes convinced he had won a sweepstakes, or that next year he would buy a ranch, or maybe he would become the next Elvis. He had many dreams and, in my opinion, he lived them all.
I could go on and on about what a wonderful person my dad was, but the evidence is right here in this room – all of the lives here that he touched. I will miss him so much and I will never forget the example he set for me. I love you, Dad.