They would have loved our memorial weekend.  Bill and Jean were always happiest when family and friends were gathered together.  Jean would have made sure that the garage freezer was filled with Klondike bars, that her signature German potato salad was ready, and that the house was as warm and inviting as possible.  Bill would have ensured that the bar was well stocked, that he had plenty of suggestions ready for outdoor activities, and that he had a new and interesting theme for the get-together.  After the day’s activities wound down, both of them loved nothing more than to share an evening full of laughter and interesting conversation.

We tried in some small way to recreate that warmth during the weekend.  Thank you all for coming, and I hope you knew that our garage freezer was stocked with Klondike bars.

Their passing last summer was certainly a sad event, but their legacy never fails to bring a smile back to my face.  They were great teachers in how to live a good life, and how to focus on the important things.

Bill was always eager to hear about how your life was going, and was an endless source of good advice.  He often had a good story to reinforce his suggestions, usually based upon some piece of literature from the ancient philosophers, Greek mythology, Shakespeare, or some obscure Russian writer.  He also wasn’t above quoting George Burns or Yogi Berra if he thought that would be helpful.  At the end of every one of these conversations I was always struck by how incredibly well read, insightful and above all caring he was.  Because the conversations were so interesting, I often eavesdropped on similar conversations he would have with others.  From what I could tell, he had the same approach with everyone – it came naturally to him.

His instant recall of vast amounts of literature – often remembering the page number of a specific quote – was legendary.  With that wealth of knowledge, he could argue either side of any issue, sometimes switching sides mid argument.  It drove a lot of us crazy, but you couldn’t help but admire it.  What always amazed me was his ability to skim through a book quickly, yet be able to retain everything he read.  He could also accurately recall the contents of past conversations.  I remember one Sunday when Jean was berating him after a church service because it appeared that he had slept through the entire sermon.  Bill put that notion to rest by quoting the interesting parts of the sermon and why they resonated with him.  I don’t think Jean appreciated being bested so easily!

He loved wordplay, and was a quick and clever wit.  Sometimes it wouldn’t occur to me how clever he had been until days later, but other times I would get it right away.  One quip I remember quite well.  His good friend Jack Quinn was over, and was telling him about an experience he just had with a sales distributor.  Jack thought his product quality was poor, and was marveling at how the distributor kept saying that his product was “vastly superior.”  “I couldn’t believe it,” harrumphed Jack, “how could he call his lousy products ‘vastly superior’?”  Bill immediately replied “You should have just told him that they were half vastly superior.”

I felt lucky to have Bill as my father.  Neil likes to joke that he “broke him in” for me.  I think that may be true – by the time I came along he was probably a lot mellower and may have had more time to spend with me.  He was my first and best teacher.  He always had good and accurate answers to the endless “why” questions that a kid has growing up.  I particularly remember the two-week sales trips that I took with him over several summers.  Those hours in the car were spent discussing any and all topics.  I learned about math, science, literature, how things work, how to navigate and read a map, how to handle social situations, how to bargain for a deal, how to sell a product and much, much more on these trips.

His lessons continued into my adulthood.  Whenever I faced challenges with my career – and there were many – he was always there to help me through tough spots and lend words of advice and encouragement.  There were many times that I didn’t believe in myself, but he never failed to snap me out of my gloom and help me come up with a path forward. 

In his later years I observed how he handled growing old with dignity.  He never grew bitter about his increasing handicaps, and always talked about the richness of his life.  What he could no longer do physically he did in his memories, and seemed genuinely satisfied that it was enough.  He was proud of his family and friends and all of your accomplishments, and took great comfort in how well you all turned out.  That pride remains my strongest memory of his final days. 

I miss you, Dad.  You never ran out of things to teach me.

For all that Bill taught me about the hows, whats and whys of the world, Jean taught me the importance of friends, family and entertaining.  I’m sure you all remember how their house was constantly bustling with activity, with people dropping in unexpectedly without a second thought.  Jean cultivated relationships like that, and never failed to make someone feel welcome in her house, no matter the circumstances.  We all loved the drop-ins, especially Jack Quinn who always announced his sudden presence with a shouted “Hey Billy!  Hey Jean!”

Jean was the one who converted Bill from a bookish, socially naïve and self-described “nerd” into someone who likewise loved interacting with everyone, and for that he was forever grateful.  Her warmth and love of social interaction made it easy for them to make a new life when they moved from Chicago to Bristol.  She went out and made most of their initial friends, and insisted on throwing parties to bring them closer.  Over time that led to their much loved holiday parties.  You all remember them – the glögg, meatballs, shrimp & Champagne, Al Caruso at the piano and perhaps a bunch of forgotten shoes as stocking footed revelers stumbled out into the snow.

Those parties made such an impression on me as a child.  The sounds, smells, raucous laughter, music and general happiness stuck with me.  Years later they made an impression on Sharon as well.  She did have some initial misgivings when Bill and Jean insisted that she play the role of St. Lucia and wear an iron crown of lit candles that first year.  Once she realized that she would never have to do that again she also became swept up with love for this type of entertaining.  We’re proud to be carrying on the tradition with our holiday parties in Boston.  I’m not ashamed to say that we’ve stolen most of their ideas for the party – we also serve glögg, meatballs, shrimp & Champagne.  As of last year we finally introduced the piano player.  I hope we can carry on this tradition for as long as possible, and I hope our kids will continue the tradition.  As she would say, “Time will tell.  Et-cetera and so on.”

Jean loved being a mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother.  Our kids used to call our trips to Bristol “going to camp Grandma.”  Years later I now see how hard she worked to make those visits as comfortable as possible for us.  She thought of all of the little things – how we might forget to bring toothbrushes or toothpaste, how we might be starving when we arrive at 11:00 pm, or how we might want to have something interesting to read in our room.  She certainly understood a host’s responsibility to create a welcoming environment, and we both learned a lot from her.

We also learned a lot from her admirable stubbornness, and refusal to complain.  Some of those characteristics may have been required to live with Bill (it was nearly impossible to win an argument with him on his terms), but it also served her well in her final years.  Even as her body began to crumble, she steadfastly adhered to rituals and to maintaining social contacts.  In the Naples assisted living facility she developed quite a reputation for her sociability.  She was a constant presence in their common area, attempting to engage anyone and everyone.  It didn’t matter if they were asleep or unable to communicate – she always tried to get something going.  It’s my understanding that the staff loved this and used her as a recruiting tool to prove to concerned family members that their beloved parent would have a good experience there. 

Jean always maintained that she would live until she was 100.  She didn’t quite make it, but I’m convinced that her stubbornness is why she made it to age 91 in spite of a host of physical ailments.  I could tell that this was her strongest attribute – my final memory of her the night before she died was of her insistence on getting ready for a party.  To the end she wanted to be surrounded by friends and family.  We continued the tradition that weekend.  She and Bill were there in spirit, and I’m convinced that we surrounded them with good cheer, laughter and interesting conversation.