On behalf of my mother and my brothers Rob, Dave, Tim and Shawn,  I want to thank you for coming today to show your respects for Dad.

 I'm beginning to write this farewell  to Dad while he is still alive. He is dying, there's no mistaking that.  Each day I'm all but certain is his last, and then each night I'm grateful to be able to remind myself that of course, only G-d knows.  In fact I began thinking about this tribute a while back,  because for a long time now it hasn't seemed possible that Dad could have much more time. 

 If you had an inkling that I might next say that Bob Cochran was a fighter and attribute his hanging on for every last breath, to his toughness, you're right! 

You see, to my brothers and our mother and to me,  Dad  was the toughest and the proudest and the most outstanding man ever. 

 Dad was born in 1929 in Knoxville, Tennessee. The sparkle in his eye, the happy lilt to his voice, (which would weave together with a touch of Southern drawl), and a boys’ exuberance for life and adventure,  remained charmingly intact when our mother, Shirley June Cadora met Dad, in life,  in1951  In fact, these traits, as well as others that I’ll mention later, never did change. Dad was essentially Dad, a very special man, a unique recipe, until the very end of his life. 

 2714 Logan Street, Camp Hill, PA, - the address of our family home - "Cochran's Camelot," as our mom dubbed it. It was our castle; - Dad its king, Mom its  queen, the five of us brothers, well, I guess you could say we were the knights. 

 A superb place to have been raised, - Cochran’s Camelot.  Mom made the castle warm and cozy and festive. Dad made it warm and fun and he stood guard, defending the castle, and establishing a set of codes--- give 110% effort, stick up for your family, and others, (dad hated bullying and taught us not to stand idly by), never shrink from a fight, promote and defend the Cochran name and honor. It was as if these principles were chiseled into a stone crest affixed above Camelot's door. 

 Dad was a great defender, a defender of those he loved and those who needed defending. --- Dad's sister Helen, (who could not be with us today),  was teased as a child for her handicaps and Dad grew up fighting to defend her. Aunt Helen suffered from Encephalitis as well as injuries sustained in an auto accident as a young child. After years of fights to defend Aunt Helen, by the time Dad reached the sixth grade the boys who had laughed at and taunted her finally gave up. They  got the message -- "If you mess with Bob Cochran's sister, he'll make you sorry." The experience dad had of defending Aunt Helen against bullies must have been formative, because it was the beginning of a lifetime of standing up and defending and later teaching his sons to do the same. 

 Dad defended our country, which he loved and regarded as the greatest in the world, serving during the Korean War. - Dad was a Republican, who  embraced conservative principles of government.  But more than any other principle of governance, - the need for a country to defend itself and to help other freedom-loving people to defend their rights was paramount to Dad.... as well as the closely related imperative to uphold our country's reputation of pride and strength; - a reputation for not accepting mistreatment or disrespect. 

 This, I suspect, was the playground principle that Dad learned as a child defending Aunt Helen against bullies, - applied to his world view, as an adult. This same conviction had also  manifest in Dad as a young sailor serving as a Navy Frogman during the Korean War on a submarine, the USS SeaCat. Dad’s job involved exiting the submarine by night and swimming in dangerous waters off the coast of Cuba in search of bombs and ammunitions  that he was responsible for disarming.  

 Through the years, and especially over the past couple of weeks, several guys who my brothers and I  grew up with have told me that Dad served as an important example to them. The word, “legendary” has been used to describe Dad more than once, as has the expression, “larger than life.” Many other compliments have been paid by people who knew Dad and us in a variety of contexts and at various times in our lives. Taken together,  my sense is that these people mean to credit Dad with possessing a fine combination of toughness, courage, friendliness and decency. These are things we know about Dad, but to hear them from others is appreciated, invaluably. 

 

Defending his own and others' rights was of great importance to Bob Cochran! 

 In 1980, the long-time principal of Schaefer School, the elementary my brothers and I had attended, was brought before the School Board. What was he accused of ?  Dad explained to us that people in the community felt  he was too strict and his approach too structured.  The meeting was open to the public and people lined up to dip  feathers in tar - to help ensure that this man who was a WWII Veteran and nearing retirement, would lose his job. Mr. Kyle had one supporter in his corner, Bob Cochran. And Dad was all he needed. 

 

Dad walked into the room  with his briefcase and removed a Yellow legal pad on which his notes were written and his cross-examinations began. As  Dad began to ask good questions,  it became clear that the School Board didn’t have a case that stood up to the light that Dad shone. -- They lacked good answers. Principal Kyle retained his job and retired with honor. Mr. Kyle wasn’t a personal friend of Dad. But he was a good man who Dad had witnessed doing an appropriate and capable job,  throughout the many years that my brothers and I attended his school. I still remember Mr Kyle’s manner, the palpable relief and the gratitude for Dad, when he stopped by our house shortly after that day Dad had successfully defended him, to say thank you. 

 

Tim shares a recollection from his childhood from the 6th grade at Schaefer Elementary, which took place a some years before the Principle Kyle matter. - Timmy witnessed a fifth grade boy beating up on a younger and considerably smaller boy in the 2nd grade, on the school playground. He recalls seeing the older boy on top of the younger boy, punching and kicking and hearing him call nasty names. After observing only a moment of this ugliness, Tim jumped in, pulling the 5th grade boy off of the 2nd grade boy.  Tim taught that bigger kid a lesson. When Tim was taken before the principal, (yep, Mr Kyle), and asked to answer for his actions and told that Dad would be called and he’d have to answer to him, -- Tim calmly explained that he did not fear Dad’s response at all. Tim told the principal that he had acted the way Dad expected him to. He was defending a kid who was being bullied, who could not defend himself. Indeed, when Dad showed up at school, he told Timmy that he had done the right thing, standing up to the boy who had been bullying the younger boy, and told Mr. Kyle that Timmy would not be apologizing. He had nothing to apologize for. 

 

While the last few years were challenging for Dad -- and for Mom and all of us  -- to see such a powerful and dynamic man in a diminished state,  we were so grateful that he was still with us. Dad  had lost the ability to fully communicate.  It would start with forgetting what he had just said a moment prior and extend to skipping and losing words.  This was hard for Dad because he loved to talk. He was a great conversationalist and storyteller, a raconteur whose  tales were  full of drama, humor and animation.  After a while, he could string together only a few words at a time, and even that was an obvious challenge. Characteristically, Dad fought the challenge to speak, managing to say "I love you" many times, in his final months, as well as "I'm fine," when asked how he was doing. 

 

One incredible night, about a year ago, (long after Dad's speech and cognition had become diminished),  mom called me, her voice shaking...."Dad can speak again!.... "(I assumed this had to be wishful thinking). "We've been talking about our lives for hours....The way things used to be...Chris, dad saw a bright light, in his sleep, a very bright light and then this began....This is a miracle!"  -- They held each other for hours that night as they lay talking about their lives together, laughing and crying as they remembered....They talked about how much they loved each other and how they would be together to the very end. Despite exhaustion, they stayed up until the wee hours, Dad talking on, Mom afraid to fall asleep, because somehow she knew that this blessing was only to last one night-- that things would be back to normal, with Dad's handicaps back in force the next day. 

 

Mom was right, though the return of Dad's voice lasted a bit longer... The next morning, when I walked into Dad's room he greeted me with a smile, "Christopher, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.... a,b,c,d,e,f,g,...."  In addition to finding his voice again, Dad's thinking had obviously cleared as well,  and he was able to recall and process basic cognitions. But the window of the miracle was closing. Dad already was unable to remember the time he and Mom had shared the night before and it wasn't long until he reverted fully back to the way he had been before seeing that light. 

 

 "Sheryl, I see a light and it's very bright," was what he had first awakened mom to say that night.  It was a gift of a miracle.  

 

 Dad is reflected in all his sons -- how we live our lives today and will always --  in a variety of ways.  When I sat down to write my thoughts, I reflected on certain examples Dad has set that served to shape us brothers into the  men we are today.

Passion, Persuasion, Hard Work

 

When I was 13 years old, Dad asked me to join him on one of his day-long sales conventions near Philadelphia.  He had rented a small space in a room full of other companies' representatives  selling their products.  This was an automotive convention and there must have been over 200 companies exhibiting in this humongous  convention hall.  Dad was selling this blue paint suit and helmet.  It was a suit that painters would wear when they went into a car booth to spray-paint a car.  To be honest, it didn't seem like that great of a product but my father was convinced it was terrific. -- He believed in it. For the first 4 hours, I sat in that  booth and watched his gift, his genius, of persuasion.  I marveled at his ability.   Dad's booth was the busiest, and this was no accident. Dad could communicate and  tell a story better than anyone.   I could see then that people just wanted to be around him.  He was smart, articulate and passionate.  By afternoon my father insisted I help him sell.  For the next 6 hours I continued listening, learning and  yes, selling --  as a 13 year old!  

 

Each of my brothers have similar stories involving their own experiences with Dad. Shawn related a memory from his youth in which he lost the keys to his car, 4 1/2 hours from home. Dad had an extra set and Shawn called him for help. When Dad showed up utterly patient and friendly, Shawn and his best buddy Cody couldn’t fathom this reaction in response to their irresponsibility. 

“There’s just one thing,” Dad told the boys, “I’m having a little car trouble myself and I’d like you to stick close behind me on the way home.” 

What followed was a 10 hour sales call spree up the East Coast. Shawn learned what a hard day’s work on the road was about and paid the price for his mistake with the keys! Of course today he realizes that this experience was invaluable. 

 

Dad, thank you for modeling Passion, Persuasion and Hard Work

The Example of LOVE

Dad and Mom  were married for 60 years. They met just outside Wilmington Delaware, when Dad was passing through town with his sailor buddies. They were on leave from their submarine for a few days and spotted a roller-rink, with droves of girls.  When Dad walked in, he immediately spotted Mom, amid the crowd, and went up to her.

 “Ma’am, will you teach me how to roller skate?” He asked her. 

She did her best to teach him and then, rejoining her girlfriends she told them that she had just met the man she would marry. Their obvious love for each other has taught me  and my brothers how important it is to express love openly in our acts and in our words. Dad loved Mom as much as Mom loved Dad! They always showed their affection right out in the open.  I remember seeing their displays throughout the years, -- kisses and hugs, passionate and playful.  

 I know that Dad loved my brothers and me and his daughters-in-law, and grandchildren. He said it and showed it, often. Dad once explained to Dave that his own father did not hug him or use those all important three words, (I love you),  and that this caused Dad to realize how important it is to express love openly.  As we all know, Bob Cochran loved to talk to others about his sons and grandkids. He loved and was proud of us all.  

Dad, Thank you for teaching us to LOVE through your love 

The Courage, Conviction and Determination to Fight and Never Give Up

Now I don’t mean fighting only in the literal sense, although he did teach us that, but more so the idea of fighting for what you believe in, fighting for love, fighting to win, fighting to be the best at whatever you do. There was no better fighter than Dad.  From his time as a boy defending his sister,  as a Navy Frogman on the USS SeaCat, as a father determined to guide his sons , to the very end of his days, fighting for his life,  Dad simply did not quit. 

 As many of you already know, Dad was passionate about his sons' sports. -- Dave’s Basketball & Lacrosse days, Rob and Tim’s state wrestling Championships and college careers, Shawn’s wrestling & football days, and of course my moments with him during my own wrestling career.  

Dad himself,  was a natural athlete, -- an outstanding basketball player in high school, he went on to an impressive collegiate diving and swimming career at the University of Tennessee, where he nearly qualified for the Pan-American games, and later won several state badminton championships.

Although there were many ups and downs during my wrestling days, one moment has stuck in my mind and I think about it EVERY TIME I’m  in tough spot. It emboldens me to FIGHT ON!

 

It was 1984, and I was a freshman in my very first high school wrestling match. That would have been tough on any kid.  But  coming into the match, I was aware of the pressures and implications of two 2 state champion brothers before me and a proud father, loaded with expectations.. You get the picture.  Before a sold-out gymnasium, the moment had come for another Cochran to show his stuff on the matt.  This was no ordinary defeat. I lost 11-2 and my opponent, a wrestler from Northern, beat me up good. The match was such a blur --  I just remember feeling helpless and sorry for myself.  It was humiliating.  After the match, I left the gymnasium to find a small area of the high school where I could cry.  I cried until  Dad found me.  The  first thing he said to me was “Did you enjoy that? Remember it  because it was your last wrestling match." With tears running down my face, he told me he was not going to let me injure the Cochran name like that again, and that I should find something else to be great at.  Tough, right? But it was exactly what I needed to hear,  and he knew it.  Dad’s philosophy on athletics mirrored his philosophy on life in general...-  It didn’t matter what you did, just so long as you had a passion for it and were willing to work hard to achieve outstanding results. 

 Dad, Thank you for teaching us the Courage, Conviction, and Determination  to Fight and to Never give up.

 Attitude, Faith, Pride 

These lessons  relate closely to the others I've mentioned, but they also stand on their own... Dad had a quiet dignity. He respected  himself and others. Just as he had modeled positive attitude, faith and pride throughout our lives, as he faced his final weeks and his body was reduced to skin and bones, and he was barely able to speak,  he never had a moment of self-pity. In the weeks before he passed away, when the hospice nurse asked him how he was doing, he gave the same answer each day. "I’m fine."

 Thank you for showing that it's possible,  despite life's great challenges,  to not despair, to have faith and to hold your head high, no matter what. 

 

I want to ask each of his 7 grandchildren to commit to your memory at least one of the many outstanding things about your grandfather, Bob Cochran; -- his amazing smile, the ever-present twinkle in his eye, his energy, his humor, his indomitable strength and perseverance and commitment to defending what's right, or anything else that may have struck you about him.  He had a larger-than-life quality about him that his sons  never ceased to see, even as adult men, ourselves. I'm searching for a fitting comparison to your grandfather, to reference for you kids and there is no complete fit. -- You might watch one of John Wayne's movies, (Grandad loved Westerns and John Wayne was his favorite). Everything about your grandfather was large...Yes, John Wayne sounds right, in a way, -  come to post WW II suburbia, - Camp Hill, PA.  Of course John Wayne was an actor, a Hollywood construct, and Bob Cochran was 100% real! 

I hope you kids will remember the largeness of your grandfather and will carry him with you all of your lives. Of course he's a part of all of us or we would not be who we are, or be here at all, for that matter!  

Danielle, the kids and I recently visited Aruba. We arrived on the afternoon of July 4th. Upon landing, my cell phone buzzed with texts and calls that I'd missed while in the air. The messages all had the same subject. Dad had passed away that morning. In the years since we'd spread out from home here in Camp Hill,  we would come together for a reunion whenever possible on July 4th. Of course it's a most important day for our country and it's a day that carries great significance in our family. Was it a sign that dad had died on the 4th of July, this great patriot who loved and fought for our country, and whose family would reunite to celebrate our country's birthday on this day in  Camp Hill, Pittsburgh, Annapolis or Richmond?  Or was it just an interesting coincidence? 

 My thoughts drifted back to our early years at 2714 Logan Street, Cochran's Camelot,  where it had all started for my brothers and me. 

As we made our way to the hotel I was silently and sadly reflective, but determined to salvage what fun I could for the kids.  

Danielle checked us into the hotel and had the key so she led the way to our room. I continued my reflection on the elevator and down the long hallway. --  "Gosh this is gonna be tough." "Man will I ever miss him." "Is there a heaven?" "How can we know for sure?" "Dad sure deserves nothing less." 

It wasn't until sometime later, after we'd settled in our room that I picked up the folder containing the key which Danielle had set down on the table beside the couch. Written in the folder was our room number, room 2714.  2714, as in 2714 Logan Street, our house number, - Cochran's Camelot, our little slice of heaven. Never in my life, in any other context,  had I seen those four numbers in that order.  

 

Dad had arrived home, safe and sound.  I could be certain now. 

 

We love you, Dad.

Farewell, Pop.

You did good. You did real good.