This is our first Father’s Day
without Bernie’s dad. I think this might
be the hardest day without him yet. Father’s Day and Bernie’s birthday are
usually about a week apart. We almost always celebrated with a cookout a Bernie’s
parents’ house. Bernie’s mom would spoil
Bernie with lobster, mussels, or whatever other seafood seemed to fit the occasion. Ed would man the grill, cooking corn on the
cob, hamburgers, hot dogs, and even veggie burgers. I still picture him on the
patio with a spatula in his hand, watching the kids play in the grass.
Bernie’s eulogy of his father at
his funeral was very moving. I almost
recorded it but it just didn’t seem like an appropriate thing to do at the
time. For months, Bernie has intended to
post the eulogy on the blog, but I think it was a difficult thing to
revisit. The hard drive on the laptop that
had Bernie’s notes, crashed last week and we almost lost everything, including
this. Nick, being the computer genius
that he is, was able to recover everything.
I’m going to go ahead and post it now.
It seems appropriate since it is Father’s Day, plus it will ensure that
we have a digital copy in another location.
Bernie’s notes are not really in a postable format since they were just
that… notes. I’m going to take the liberty of editing them a little and
hopefully maintain the character of the presentation.
September 30, 2013
Thank you all for being here with us today. My father had the great ability to make
everyone feel welcome, to feel at home; like they were a part of his
family. My dad couldn’t go anywhere
either without someone knowing him, or him striking up a conversation with a
total stranger. He was friendly to many,
but took friends less frequently. Instead of having one or two close friends, he
had friends everywhere: at the gas
station, at the grocery store, at restaurants, the list goes on and on. There are probably many good stories about my
Father, John, which I’ve never heard. When you have time I would be very
interested in hearing them.
When I began writing this speech, I wanted to define fatherhood. The essence of fatherhood is showing love in
all of the little things you do every day. Therefore, I am going to speak about
some of the things that my father gave me in my life, and to some of the people
around him.
My dad was very passionate
about his grandchildren, he has six. He
loved them dearly. He showed that love in the things he did with them. When
they were learning to crawl, he would crawl with them. He got down on the floor and cheered for each
inch they would advance. He played games
completely made up by Jack, such as “Angry Birds-Cars 2-Star Wars” (yes that is
one game). He spent hours playing
trains, coloring, playing peek-a-boo, and reading them stories. He would make the most delicious pancakes and
French Toast, utilizing secret ingredients.
He attended numerous baseball games, wrestling matches, plays,
birthdays, and graduations. He was truly their biggest fan.
My dad gave me so many things in my in my life that I still employ
today. He taught me how to play
tennis. That was, until I beat him, then
he stopped playing. He taught me how to
play baseball. He had an incredible work
ethic and always did what he had to do to take care of his family. He was a coach. He took me to my first Star Wars Movie, twice. He fell asleep in the theater, twice. He taught me how to iron clothes. For a short time in the 80s, wrinkled shirts
were all the rage. I had one. My dad was so proud when he showed me that he
ironed every single wrinkle out of the shirt.
I couldn’t believe he had done that, he couldn’t believe it was supposed
to be wrinkled. Christine’s favorite
thing he taught me was how to mumble under my breath.
My dad took me to Boston to see the Red Sox play a few times when I was
a child. My dad, growing up in Attleboro MA, was destined to be a Red Sox
fan. He got me a Red Sox hat. I thought
it was cool. It had a "B" on it, which I was sure stood for “Bernie.”
Somewhere along the way I found out there were other teams out there, and I
became a Yankees fan. Everyone who knows
me knows that I bleed pinstripes. My dad was ok with that. He even rooted for
the Yankees with me in 1996, because he knew how important it was to me. He did
it because he loved me, not the Yankees. My dad and his brother, Bob, went to
some Red sox games at Fenway in recent years. My father showed his subtle
love for the Red Sox once again. I
almost had him turned. Fittingly this
year my Yankees are not playing in the playoffs, but my Dad’s Red Sox are. In
honor of my Dad, I will be rooting for his team this year, as he did for
me.
In closing, the greatest lesson my dad has left with me are that no
issues, problems, or concerns are too big to keep you from watching a baseball
game, to say hello to a stranger, or telling the people important to you that you love them each
time you see them. Thanks Dad, Love you
too!!
