I share this with you, especially those of you who are my age and may have also lost a parent(s) .... please accept this eulogy as being for them as well as my father.
Those of you who know my attitude toward beliefs in imaginary divine beings may be surprised that a Protestant Minister and a Catholic Priest are part of what I am sharing from a very poignant moment of loss in my life. And a few days over four months later, my Mother also died.
Rev Joe has been a friend of mine for over 35 years; we met at a small independent tobacco shop, the Oxford Smoke Shop, when he was buying a cigar and I was getting my pipe tobacco, and we later discovered that he and his family had moved to my neighborhood in rural north Davidson County, Tn. Joe was also my game day partner at the Tennessee Titans games for 13 years. And Father Tom, now retired, was the local parish priest who was a customer, then friend, at our hardware store, whom we liked before we knew he was the new priest because he hardly ever wore his priestly collar and garb. They are both very progressive minded people, easy for me to like and respect even though none of my family ever attended religious services with them or anyone else. AND knowing where I would be going in my talk to a very conservative rural audience, it was an easier segue into that with a preacher and priest doing some of the generic things people expect at a funeral service. I knew the nature of my talk would not be the audience's usual funeral experience, so I decided Rev Joe and Father Tom would make them more comfortable before I made my points, and I was honored they agreed to be part of the service, especially since they both are well aware that I am a heathen.
Below is the text of my eulogy for my father with comments inserted afterwards to describe the service.
Oringinal text of the eulogy, and my extemporaneous words are in bold, comments added later are in regular density.
EULOGY for MY FATHER ........
(Harry L “Buddy” Swain ......”Honest Harry” 6/24/20 - 10/16/07)
Delivered by H Lee Swain Jr.
October 20th, 2007.....Anderson & Garrett, Joelton, TN
Beginning of Service.....Daddy's coffin draped with only the American Flag honoring a Veteran....
... solemn classical music, Barber’s "Adagio for Strings" plays as I lead Rev Joe and Father Tom to our places, music finishes ....... I retrieve a SWAINs HARDWARE HAT from a bench which is normally on the sidewalk in front of the family hardware store, placed there by our landlord/friend with "Honest Harry" burned into the wood back, and I then go to the Lectern .......
All of you who knew my Daddy know he was always upbeat in his demeanor,
ready to tell or hear a good story and share a laugh ....... and I know he would not
want this memorial service to be too solemn .......as is often said on occasions such
as this, we are here today not so much as to acknowledge his passing, but to celebrate
his long and full life ...... he truly enjoyed being your local hardware man (hold out Hat),
and I think this next song is very appropriate to begin this service for my Daddy.
Playing of Wood Newton CD (lyrics at the end of this post)
..... track #1 ... "Daddy Went to Heaven in a Pickup Truck"
......... after song finishes, I return Hat to its place of honor on the otherwise empty bench.
The two members of the Clergy I am about to introduce are here today NOT
because Daddy and I know them from any Words they have preached, but
because we know them from hundreds of experiences which have always
revealed them to be men who possess immensely compassionate hearts and
minds. One of the reasons my Daddy loved Rev Joe Ingle and Father Tom
Bielawa is they don’t waste time talking about their faith and how a human being
should behave, they just live it. They do not need to talk-the-talk, because they
walk-the-walk. Daddy and I have been proud to call them our friends.
Rev Joe, Father Tom ? Before you each talk about my Daddy, will you lead us in
some traditional words of comfort?
(23rd Psalm ......... Rev Joe and Father Tom comments were mainly humorous "roastings" playing upon my Daddy's exaggerated nickname of Honest Harry. Joe focused on the many sports bets he made with my father and his penchant for wanting to make "adjustments." Father Tom referenced the Tomato Wars we declared for our community, challenges for the first ripe tomato, the largest, most perfect, ugliest .. we would take photos and post them .... Father Tom alluded to his suspicions of Daddy somehow cheating with his tomoato growing and creating the Tomato War as a way to get free "maters' from our customers. There was much laughter, Daddy would have loved it.
Thank you Rev Joe and Father Tom .... (to audience: .... They are Really going to be a hard act to follow)
One of the active pall bearers, a childhood friend, we played little league baseball together, and he worked as a teen, as I did, for Daddy's business in which days he came up with the nickname Honest Harry, and it stuck. When I came to the lectern, I called Ronnie out by name and had him stand, to receive the praise or ridicule those assembled felt appropriate, There was much laughter by all, along with some mock cheers and boos.... I was pleased the audience was into it. Then it was time to be more somber.
I, and the rest of the family, want to thank all of you for coming ....... and we have
been overwhelmed by your many kind comments and rememberances of my
Father ......and if YOU feel my Daddy added a few pleasant or happy moments to
your lives when you visited Swain’s Hardware, please know that YOU added as
much, if not more, to his life on a daily basis, and I thank you for that from the
bottom of my heart.
I hope I can remain strong through my comments, as strong as my Daddy always
was ...... and he always had others first in mind ..... me, my brother and especially
over the last 20 years, he was so strong for my mother in her disabled condition
which prevents her from being present today.
And even as his own health problems increased, he would often express concern
about being a burden on ME ..... he was more worried about that than worried
about himself ..... and when he would bring up being a burden on me, I often told
him the biggest burden he put on me was trying to keep up with HIM.
Daddy was an amazingly strong and determined man with a tremendous sense of
duty and responsibility. I do not entertain even a thought of being his equal in
these areas.
I was a rather bookish kind of kid, Daddy encouraged that ..... but he also often
told me to never be afraid of honest, hard work ........... and indeed, he taught me
that lesson by his own example......... right up until a week ago Thursday when he
went to hospital.
I have come to realize how fortunate I have been over the last three decades .........
For in this day and time when job opportunities often require family members to
live in different cities, and maybe only get to see one another thanksgiving, xmas,
summer vacation ......... I got to be with my Daddy EVERY DAY ........ and I cherish
every one of those days. Just as I cherish my memories as a young boy trying to
learn how to be a catcher in little league baseball when Daddy would throw
knuckleballs to me, pitches that would seem to float through the air and you
never knew which way they were going to curve. Daddy said if I could catch the
knuckleball I could catch anything. ...... Daddy was a spry agile man, played
basketball and tennis in high school.. and when he and I would play ping pong,
badminton, pitch horseshoes ....... the truth is I NEVER beat him. When my
daughters were little, playing games with them, I remember wondering why
Daddy just occasionally NEVER LET me win. But when I got a little wiser, I realized
he was teaching me a life lesson ...... one doesn’t get better at anything if it is
made too easy for you ...... life doesn’t give you anything, it doesn’t owe you
anything...you have to earn it. Nevertheless, Daddy did spoil me in many ways,
too.
These type of teachings about the value of honest, hard work, doing what is
necessary, putting the well-being of family and others before your own desires,
of doing things because they were the right thing to do even if there was no great
personal gain .... all these characteristics I came to appreciate in my Daddy are
also traits of many people of his own age ....... and I would like to read something
that not only applies to my Daddy, but to all his contemporaries ........ what I am
about to read to you is a column I wrote for the Nashville City Paper and was
originally published in the fall of 2000, almost exactly seven years ago.
**************************************
(I recite the text of the published column shown here in Italics)
All too often now, I have conversations with customers who have lost either their
moms or dads or both. These conversations cause sober reflection.
I am fortunate both my parents are still living. Daddy is over 80 years old, and, in
addition to taking care of my disabled mother, he daily works my tail into the
ground. But I don’t think he notices. He has worked hard all his life; he knows
no other way.
I want to make one thing clear right now: I am not the man Daddy is. I never was;
I never will be. But folks my age enjoy a distinction we do not share with anyone
in recorded history . And even though it is an honor we have NOT earned, we do
have every reason to be extremely proud. You see, we are the children of truly
America’s Greatest Generation ..... the generation whose childhood was
beleaguered by the Great Depression before they sacrificed their early adulthood
and blood to the task of literally saving the world in World War II. Daddy did his
part from September 1941 until the end of the war in the Pacific, on Iwo Jima.
We owe this generation absolutely everything.
Until recently, I labored under an embarrassing ignorance. I had thought the
famous statue of the Marines raising the Stars and Stripes on top of the island of
Iwo Jima was an official memorial to all World War II veterans; however, it is a
memorial only to the Marine Corps veterans of that era.
Daddy knows the Marines earned that recognition. He was a sergeant in the U.S.
Army 20th Air Force, a B-29 outfit that followed the Marines onto Iwo Jima. He
saw the hellish aftermath of what they had endured. The dead enemy soldiers
were so numerous many were simply bulldozed under the airstrip, some not
completely covered. One day, Daddy "borrowed" a Jeep and made his way up
Mount Suribachi so that he could stand on the famous summit that overlooked
the eight square miles of black sand and rock where so many lives were lost.
Although the books "The Greatest Generation" and "Flags of Our Fathers" and its
movie and the film "Saving Private Ryan" helped rekindle public awareness of the
accomplishments of Daddy’s generation, I, like many others, have discovered
there’s no official memorial to honor all of our World War II veterans.
I wondered how this could have happened.
World War II was "the good war," a totally justified mobilization against brutal
military dictatorships in Europe and the Pacific which perpetrated unspeakable
atrocities against civilians. That war effort received nearly universal support;
everyone home and abroad made sacrifices and contributed to the war effort in
many ways. Everyone knew what had been at stake.
And veterans of the Korean War have also long been ignored. In contrast, the
veterans of the horribly divisive Vietnam War now have the most visited
monument in Washington, D.C. And even though that’s all well and good, why
has there been no monument established to honor the generation who won the
"good war?" Who could be more deserving of such an honor?
I think I understand part of the reason. For many decades after World War II,
much of Congress and the Presidency were controlled by members of the
greatest generation. It never occurred to them to make an exceptional use of
public funds or use their bully pulpits to raise private monies to erect a
monument to themselves. And most of their fellow veterans in the private sector
never expected them to do so. The GI Bill was enough for them.
This is one of the reasons they are the greatest generation. There was never any
question in their minds; they only did what had to be done. It was their duty and
they fulfilled it without question. They never thought of themselves as
heroes.......... True heroes ... never do.
It is now the responsibility of those of us who have benefitted from the sacrifices
of the greatest generation to assure recognition for the immensity of what this
group achieved overseas and at home. It is way past time to honor G.I. Joe and
Rosie the Riveter. Sadly, it is too late for many of them, as it is too late to pay
our symbolic respect to the parents whose sons and daughters never came home
and now lie buried in foreign soil.
But a physical monument that most of the greatest generation will never be able
to visit is not enough. Nothing could be enough. But if the richest country in
the history of the world cannot afford a complete health care and drug benefit for
its greatest generation, it ought to just shut down, close up the shop and choke
on its shame. Shame on whomever the President may be, shame on whomever
controls the Congress, shame on ALL of us, shame on America if we do not
immediately and with great pride grant our Greatest Generation full and complete
health care. What possible better use can there be for the federal surplus
instead of giving tax cuts which are biased toward those who need it least while
the big drug companies and HMOs squeeze profits from our heroes of the
Greatest Generation in the last years of their lives. They literally saved our
country, then came home and built this nation into the richest country the world
has ever known. We owe them this benefit .............. we owe them ...
EVERYTHING.
*******************************************
That was published in 2000.... and today there is a memorial in Washington
honoring the veterans of WWII. But health care is still far too great a burden on
the families of the Greatest Generation and that is simply a DISGRACE.
I then went off script for a moment ......
I am going to depart my prepared text for a moment and ask you to do
something......... I see Mr Nash (you were on the battleship Missouri when the
Japanese surrendered ending the war in the Pacific, Mr Jarrett (you were on that
hell hole Iwo Jima, were you not?), and I see Mr Cooper .....there may be other
WWII era veterans or their widows present ......
I am going to ask the rest of you to stand for a moment...... those who have worn
the uniform can give an honorary salute if you wish ....... PLEASE ...... let us
demonstrate our respect, let us honor these members of our Greatest Generation
before it is too late.
(Everyone did stand, and when I started to applaud, they enthusiastically joined for a
long ovation which rose into an ever-increasing crescendo....... tears in many eyes ....
people still mention this moving moment to me years after the event)
Thank you for honoring the members of America’s Greatest Generation who are
present as well as the memories of those who are now gone, and my Father.
You know, my feet are about three sizes larger than my Daddy’s, but there is one
thing I know for sure, and that is I will never be able to fill his shoes.
I have heard it said that a son never truly becomes a man in his own right until
after his father dies. That may be true ...... but right now, at this moment, I would
still rather be my Daddy’s little boy.
Thank you for coming today to honor my Daddy and all those who are members
of America’s Greatest Generation.
Rev Joe ....... Father Tom .....????
(They lead the Lord’s Prayer ... I am respectfully silent)
As Barber’s "Adagio for Strings" plays, pallbearers come forward, those not needed to
carry the casket form a long line of honor along the path to the hearse.
**********
Graveside: Oakwood Methodist Church Cememtery, located in the country, barely over
a mile from the family homeplace, where my only brother and only sibling is buried along
with four generations of my maternal side ancestors.
Father Tom ???
( Father Tom recites a prayer about how much the deceased meant to people, very
nice)
Thank you, Father Tom ...........
We now lay may Father to his final rest .......and as we mourn his passing, I
accept and realize the fact that Death is the Price for the privilege of living ...........
and also that the essence of every human being, every sentient creature, every
tree, every rock , every flower is of a ONENESS, and that Oneness by whatever
name, is the Ultimate Reality .... and now the essence of my Father has returned
to that ONENESS from which he came.
Before we close Daddy’s Grave, we invite those of you who wish to place a flower
or handful of earth in the grave as a final goodbye to do so as the Flag which draped
his coffin is folded (by a veteran friend of the family). And thank you again for coming to
honor the life of my Daddy.
(Rev Joe recites the traditional “ashes to ashes ......” many place flowers or handfuls of
earth onto the casket before the vault lid is placed. I take a shovel and assist in the closing
of the grave before we leave)
***************************************************************
My ex called this song to my attention, we both know lots of musicians, but I cannot remember
which one was the source. The hardware reference was something I could not pass up.
DADDY WENT TO HEAVEN IN A PICKUP TRUCK
by Wood Newton
Daddy ran the local hardware store
With a helping hand and an open door
His friends around our courthouse town
Said he did the little things that count.
Daddy drove a pickup truck painted blue
Forty-nine Chevrolet, bought it brand new
Everywhere he went he drove that thing
And when he died I had this dream.
Daddy went to heaven in a pickup truck,
Across the sky in a cloud of dust.
He’s rolling with the sun and waiting on us
It ashes to ashes and rust to rust
Cause Daddy went to heaven in a pickup truck.
Daddy read the word and he lived his faith
By works you’re known but saved by grace.
On his dying bed he still could smile
He said once a man, twice a child.
We put his wooden coffin in his pickup bed
Made that hearse go on ahead
Drove through town to say good-bye
Brought a smile to tear-stained eyes.
Daddy went to heaven in a pickup truck .... (repeat this chorus)
I remember a preacher from long ago
Said the streets in heaven are paved with gold
Now won’t those angels be surprised
When they see my Daddy come driving by
Daddy went to heaven in a pickup truck
Across the sky in a cloud of dust
He’s rolling with the sun and waiting on us
It’s ashes to ashes and rust to rust
Cause Daddy went to heaven in a pickup truck
.
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