David Rogers
Giving thanks to a gentle giant.
I’m thankful I am able to right a wrong this Thanksgiving. Sixteen years ago I was too afraid
and upset to give my father’s eulogy, a regret I must admit. For those of you who knew my
father, I offer this in the same style as the only other eulogy I’ve given.
DID YOU KNOW?
HE LOVED SHOES. Whether he was raking the yard, selling asphalt, or driving a truck, he
always had nice shoes on his feet. Mostly winged tip, actually. My uncle said that dad
seemed to get extra attention from the ladies as he was the only truck driver with nice shoes.
Don’t tell mom.
SWEATERS. He had the ugliest sweaters. I don’t know how he wore them and he sure did.
HE GAVE ME THE SAME BIRTHDAY GIFT YEAR AFTER YEAR knowing I didn’t mind.
A trip to Detroit to watch the Tigers play ball.
HE COULDN’T REMEMBER NAMES, not ever. My friend Tripp was called Chip, Flip,
and who knows what else more times than not. Tripp, sorry about that, buddy.
PICTURES. He took more than you would know. Long before the digital age, the local
drive-through Kodak guy loved seeing him drive up. Picture Becky and me 200 feet up in
the air and ¼ mile away, just a dot in the sky while parasailing. Could have been anyone in
that photo, yet there were 208 photos of us up in the air.
THE UGLY BLUE CHAIR, his favorite. I still have the ottoman in my office. This will
get passed on.
1966 CORVETTE. I still have a picture of him with the car he couldn’t keep as long as
he wanted.
HE INADVERTENTLY SCARED A LITTLE GIRL at the beach in Mexico. Just after
bypass surgery, this VERY white man with chicken legs, a basketball belly, and long, purple,
full length scars on his legs and chest sent a young girl scurrying away
after seeing this scarred ostrich of a man.
WHEN MOM WAS SO MAD that she would sleep on the couch in
the family room, dad would sleep on the floor next to the couch.
HE COULDN’T SAY BERTA CORRECTLY so he called
mom Bert.
WHEN VISITING MOM’S FAMILY for the first time in
Bogota, he said, “while we are down here, why don’t we
get married now?” They did.
HE LOVED ICE CREAM the same way as his father.
Vanilla please, will roasted peanuts on top.
Giving thanks to
a gentle giant.
Thank you for teaching me patience. Unknown while
growing up, you showed me how to have the confidence that
letting things simply unfold is ok. Just consciously watch what
happens, learn, and react accordingly. Reacting too quickly and
assuming too soon isn’t the best course.
Thank you for giving me a work ethic. You consistently rode
a desk or car seat while not always enjoying the monotony of it
all knowing it was the best way to provide for your family. You
treated everyone in your work world with respect, honesty, and
integrity. You knew that working hard with the right attitude
would always pay off in the long run. You also knew when to
take a chance and create your own success. You also supported
my decision to take a chance on cooking.
Thank you for teaching me kindness and respect. You taught
me life is better being kind to others no matter what the
occasion. You once said something like “kindness comes at you
the same pace you give it out.” You were right, again.
Thank you for instilling integrity in me. Once talking a
potential buyer OUT of a deal, you knew it was not in his best
interest to buy that truck. Of course while you didn’t get the
commission. It sure impacted your wallet, and you didn’t mind
knowing it was the right call. Always being honest and forthcoming was your style and it separated you from the others.
Thank you for teaching me real worth. You taught me the difference between wanting and needing. Sure a nice Polo
shirt would be great, but and any clean, pressed shirt is all I really need. How are you going to wear that shirt is more
important. Being a truck driver in our “professional” town never defined you and our family while others may have looked
down their noses at us. While others may have made judgments and comments, you never minded. You lost cars, trucks,
businesses, and the ability to buy toys, gadgets, nice things. And you always showed me that those things aren’t important.
Our self-worth is.
Thank you for teaching me forgiveness. You had the great ability to forgive friends, family, and strangers for wrongful
acts. You also had the gift of being able to forget just enough to not harbor any lasting anger and resentment. Life is too
short for being too angry for too long.
Thank you for showing me the importance of time. While on the road quite a bit, when you were home you always
spent time with us. Whether at games, practices, or other functions, you made time to be present. I still remember you
stopping by my job just to say “hi” on your way back into town. I wish I had spent more time with you after I moved
away. I treasure the last few years we got to know one another better than before.
Thank you for teaching me the hard way. You said you would pay for everything but my beer and books when I went
off to Athens as long as I made good grades. When I didn’t, you quickly pulled the financial plug. With only a few dollars
in my pocket, you knew I would have to learn to take care of myself. I can only imagine how hard that must have been.
THANK YOU for letting me struggle to appreciate what I hope to earn.
Thank you for teaching me love. Not until after you were gone did mom tell me about your offer to her when you
weren’t able to support her because of your failing health. Willing to let her go was an incredible gesture that showed her
love, she just showed you up by staying with you and supporting you. Y’all truly went through more “for poorer and
sickness” moments than “for richer and heath” times. Yet as I look through the pictures in the family chest, I know you led
a great, fulfilled, happy life.
– DAVID SNYDER