I didn't want to do the eulogy at my dad's funeral. I never thought I would get through it. Linda's memorial taught me a lot, including how much I can do if I need to. I'm sorry I didn't keep my word and speak as I'd promised. So on Father's Day, with enough years in between to recover and to speak, here's what I wish I had been able to say...
My dad was never perfect, but he was the kind of father every kid would be proud to call "Daddy." He had a PhD in Organic Chemistry but we have pics of him in curlers and bows after allowing his three little girls to give him a "do"; he would have loved to have spent
weekends fly fishing, but he spent many teaching me how to fish the rivers of Utah and California. He had fishing buddies with PhD's, but he took all 3 of us "Daddy Camping" with Captain Crunch for breakfast and whittling around the campfire. It was magic for us; it was break time for mom. All we knew was we had Daddy all to ourselves. The only time that sacrosanct ritual was broken was when Anne cut the top of my pinkie off when the whittling got a bit out of hand- literally.
My Organic Chemistry PhD dad was also the one who wrote love notes to my mom when they were dating. The notes were written by their cat, Priscilla, who travelled between the two of them. They were the couple Luci and Desi were not- they kept it on the up and up until the day they were married. And when they were married they faced my mom having hepatitis, and dad had to come home every day to take care of her at noon. They were supposed to be married in Florida, at his parents’ home. The garden they planted for their outdoor wedding chapel is still there, in the home Linda and I shared for ten years. The billburgers are still there, marking where my mom was supposed to meet dad and say her vows. But she was too sick; So they married, in our family tradition, in the Riverside heat on August 12th, 1955. They raised us in Riverside, despite offers from schools for dad’s talents at colleges in the South. He wanted his children to grow up without the bias and disparity of the South in the 50’s and 60’s. He longed for the South- we could see it when we went home every summer, and I could feel it when he stayed with us when Linda and I lived in Florida. But Daddy wanted us not to grow up where drinking fountains were marked by skin color, and in a society where girls were expected to excel. Daddy saw his sister Pat not being allowed to earn her Phd or MD, and knew his kids needed to be able to make their own decisions. Bless you Daddy- you made my life so much easier with that one very big sacrifice. I lived in that house in Florida, and I know how warm, and loving, the people of Lake Wales can be. I know it had to be a huge sacrifice for him to leave Florida to raise his kids. But I also know what Linda and I faced there. And I will be forever grateful for being raised in California.
The daddy I miss is the one who allowed each of us to have a cat, and then a family dog, despite his severe allergies. He knew we were attached to them, and our needs came first. He was the daddy who was very sure of his beliefs- until his “Sunshine” came out at age 17. He struggled- but he loved me, as the person I became, until the day he died. And he became a spokesperson for our church becoming Open and Affirming because he learned from his experience when I came out. I still cry when I think about that. He never told me about his role in that process- other church members shared it with me. I miss the daddy who reached out to Linda and told her he was just an old country boy, and could identify with her dad, even though daddy had a PhD and Linda’s dad worked for Shell Oil. To daddy, anyone who worked hard and did an honest day’s work was an equal. And I miss the daddy who still held my mom’s hand, to the day he died, knowing that she would take care of him and love him, not matter what. They had 50 years together, and he loved her as much as the day he met her. In church they were known for holding hands, and being sweethearts still. The night he died she refused to leave the hospital until he did. She still wears his wedding ring. I cannot think of a better legacy.
I had the Daddy many kids wish they had. He never drank. He supported us in every activity we chose- swimming, horse collecting, singing,.. if we were in it, he was there. Probably not without prodding from the mom figure, but there he was. When the Chemistry Department at UCR had Friday beer busts his darlings showed up to sell Camp Fire Girls candy. Who knew Thin Mints went with beer? When one of our friends needed a home, the door opened. When one of those friends had an abusive dad show up, Daddy met him at the door- with his shotgun. Mild mannered professor with a shotgun and a sharpshooter medal from the US Army circa 1944. Don’t mess with my Daddy!
We rockhounded as a family. When Dad and George Helmkamp started rockhounding, the families did too. We knew every tiny crevasse in the Western US. We saw ghost towns that are still ghost towns. No Calico for us! We bumped along dirt washboard roads for miles to get to the agate fields. In those moments we shared time, and beauty, and each other. Yes, we argued. Yes, three girls in a camper with no air conditioning was probably not the best. But we learned, and we reveled, and we had time away from phones and distractions. And it was magic. Sliding down a huge sandhill was fun. Hearing our voices echo was spooky. Finding old shotgun shells was spooky. And we reveled in it. I wish we had some of that innocence now for our kids.
We also had the Daddy who taught us the value of service. Dad graduated at a time that chemists were being hired for big money by private industry. His college buddies sent us letters about trips to the Swiss Alps for skiing… and their kids went to boarding schools with royalty. We went to school in Riverside. When we asked, Daddy had a simple answer. He had been provided with an exceptional education by the US government through the GI Bill. He felt he owed the country his service as a result. Every student he taught (and terrorized) in O Chem was one more doctor who would be an asset. He said he never wanted to pass anyone who might be a bad doctor. The day he died, one of his former students pronounced his death. And that doctor said he still used his basic O Chem skills that Daddy taught him to make decisions for his patients.
I hope our kids and nieces and nephews will celebrate the memory of daddy teaching them to fly fish from his walker in the backyard, to see the beauty of a rough piece of rock and the beauty it can become with enough care, the Daddy who loved his kids with all his heart, and set a standard for all of us to do our best, to protect the earth, to show our children love and compassion, and to occasionally torment the kitties with canned air and a sense of humor. Happy Father’s Day, Daddy. I miss you more than you could ever imagine. I'm so very grateful I am your daughter.
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