My Father died 4 September 2002. The following Obituary ran the following day in the Cumberland Times.

Some pictures of my Father
Pictures  taken 4 - 9 September when I went to help Mom arrange Dad's funeral

My Father was the most honest, reliable, self-reliant, helpfull man I have ever known.

He taught me the value of a man's word. I can honestly say that I can not recall having ever heard him lie. He had a keen memory for detail. I loved listening to him tell stories from his past. I would occationally get together with Dad and one of his brothers and listen to them for hours telling stories of their childhood.

My Father was reliable. If he said he would do something, he did. If he said he would be somewhere, he would. Quite simply, you could count on him.

My Dad taught me to be self reliant. If something needed to be done, he did it. I recall hours on the floor of the garage when no more than six or seven years old helping Dad repair the car. Even if all I could do was hold a flashlight or fetch a wrench, he made me feel needed. Dad built a good portion of our furnature. He built a dinning room table and chairs, end-tables, bedroom furnature, and even an ornate front door. I still own and use some of his bedroom furnature. Dad's furnature was all built in the garage using simple power tools. I recall comeing home from school one day to find the house full of white dust. Dad had removed the living room wall extending the room into the hallway. This was no simple feat as the wall was a supporting wall. Dad had to re-work the rafters in the attic before he could remove the wall. Dad knew every aspect of home construction and could repair or upgrade anything from electrical and plumbing to foundations and walls. He helped me put a window in the wall of my garage when that portion was being used as a bedroom for one of my children.

Dad taught me the meaning of service. For the cost of a beer and possibly a sandwich for lunch, he spent many of his weekends helping friends and neighbors. He added a recreation room to Bill's house, replaced the flooring in Geraldine's house after her husband passed away. Every year at Christmas, we would visit Fran, a widow in the neighborhood we moved from when I was eleven, and Dad would always bring a gift. Dad even bought a house for his brother to live in when the brother's health made it necessary to retire early, and the brother's mortgage was more than the early retirement would allow him to pay. Dad only asked that his brother pay him enough to cover the property tax, a figure much less than the mortgage he was paying.

Dad taught me to fish and enjoy the great outdoors. It seems that if Dad wasn't helping someone on the weekend, we were going camping or fishing. I grew up in Sacramento California and was surrounded by mountains, lakes, rivers, and streams. We would fish for salmon on the Sacramento river, catfish on the many sloughs in the Sacramento area, trout in the many lakes and streams in the mountains. Dad wouldn't take the first place that came along to fish. Fishing with Dad ment hiking often for several miles, to get to just the right spot. The right spot was more a place of solitude, as there were many times we caught no fish. We did catch our share from time to time, but that didn't seem to be as important as enjoying the solitude.