My Pop

There is one given in life. Everyone will eventually pass away. And even though we all know this, we can never prepare for how we will feel. Nor do we know how we will handle grief and everyone does it in their own way. I turned to words and started to write about my dad almost immediately. The following eulogy is what came out of my thoughts. I feel blessed to have been able to share it at his funeral. My dad and I shared a love for words and writing so it was hard but also easy for me to do. 

This is the last selfie I took of my dad and I at Ayden's graduation party May 2015

Richard I. Powell (March 14, 1931-October 26, 2015)

My dad was the story teller. We were captivated as he told stories of his youth, people around town, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and his grandkids. He had a story to tell pretty much about everyone he knew. It wasn't until the mid 70s that my dad decided to start writing them down. And he wrote and wrote. I got my love of words from my dad. So while these are my perceptions and memories I hope I paint a picture of my dad with words today....something that he truly loved. Whenever I called he asked me what I was writing. And he just wanted people to read his words. We did and we will cherish them.....but Pop I wrote this one for you.

My dad was the firstborn of Ivan and Pauline Powell. A depression baby. We could say he was a mischievous child but he was probably just like every other boy of those times. He and his buddies may or may not have tipped his grouchy neighbor over in his outhouse and  then went back to rescue him and get paid for the rescue. He may or may not have lit a sack of doggie doodie on fire dropped it on a porch and rang the recipients bell. And he most definitely shook the hand that shook the hand of Abraham Lincoln. That is a tiny sampling of stories we heard. He was a Mississippi boy growing up on the river and all that entails. He lived his whole life in Camanche and around or on the Mississippi.  

When he graduated from high school he headed off to Bradley University with an initial thought to study education. But ended up with two years in drafting. He always wanted to finish but he was drafted into the army. This was one of the reasons why he wanted all of his kids to get an education. 

He proposed to my mom Christmas Eve 1951 and they married January 21,1952 on a very icy night. He shipped to Korea 7 days later. He said he had never been so cold, wet, and hungry during some of his time on the front lines. But he survived and returned home to my mom, they started their family, and he began his lifelong love affair with food. He didn't care what he ate just feed him....except anything with mustard. Oh and anything that resembled an SOS meal. That reminded him of army food. He ate it but  expressed to me with complete clarity that he never wanted me to serve him creamed tuna on toast ever again. 

He was always civics minded. He served on the school board and volunteered for fire and sheriff duties. He loved telling stories about doing ride alongs.  And later in his life he was a city councilman. 

He was baptized Baptist but credits Wally Metzger, his dear friend, with his understanding of his faith and Christ and what he needed spiritually in his life. He attended Clinton E Free for the past 40 years with my mom. 

My dad was a huge John Wayne fan which annoyed me as a teenager and endeared me as an adult. 

I never knew much about his army tour until he became older. As was often the case with many vets he didn't talk about his time overseas. There was a small box of black and white photos in the closet and a Japanese kimono in mom's cedar chest that we used for a Halloween costume. That's all I knew. After I married Eric and we became a military family, I saw him start to open up more and eventually he donned his Korean vet cap daily. He served as a veteran in  parades and funerals continuing his civil commitments. He was finally chosen for an honor flight a couple of years ago  and I'm so thankful he received the welcome home he deserved. We are fortunate he spent time writing down his military stories for generations to come. 

He was the strongest man I have ever known. Just brut strength. I remember him talking about throwing sacks of grain at Clinton Corn like they were nothing.  It seemed he could fix anything including his  miraculous fix of my baby dolls broken leg. He drove his cars until they stopped running...remember the white station wagon? He would give his last dollar in his pocket and demonstrated this many times with us kids and all the grandkids. He always had to go to the grocery or Casey's for treats for the grandkids because they needed chocolate milk. He  had integrity and was never afraid to speak the truth as he perceived it. And he always just asked us kids to tell the truth. 

He loved to hunt but fishing was his passion. He duck hunted with his father in law until his passing and in later years he enjoyed deer hunting. Like many of us, he taught me how to shoot a gun. And he killed his first and only trophy deer during my senior year. A 21 point buck. He  taught me how to fish and clean fish. I filleted hundreds of fish with him in Minnesota. I know he fished with many people but it was just he and I one afternoon working to pull in a very large Northern. Our favorite family story happened one June when Brady was old enough to drive.  He had taken his brothers fishing and came home stating they threw back 80 some bass because they were too small. This happened a second day. So I decided I needed to go with. First fish caught...see mom? It's a bass...too small. But what the boys had been throwing back were very large crappies. I called my dad and within the hour my mom and dad were packed up on their way out to do  some teaching complete with an illustrated book of fish. It was during that week the boys truly saw my dad in his element. We tight lined crappies off the dock and tossed them straight to the cleaning station where my dad continued to fillet. The only bass big enough that week belonged to Brenden. And as my dad made the first cut to show Brenden how it was done.., Brenden passed out and almost landed in the lake. It was a fishing story my dad loved to tell and laugh about. He loved to fish with my mom and always said, "She always catches the first fish."

He was so proud of his kids and grandkids and great grandkids. He made everyone he talked to feel like family. My friends were his friends, too. When Lora married Larry his kids were now his grandkids too. No distinction. I was asked a few days ago how I got so lucky to have five kind good sons. I answered but this week I  realized the right answer. I was thinking about how all of my dads grandkids and kids are so kind. Every one. And that is a testament to my dad. It's in their genes and it's because he made each one of them feel special. That's how I got five great kids and awesome nieces and nephews. 

My dad never missed one of my son Brenden's appointments in Iowa City. Just a few years ago, when Brenden and I went for his checkup, his cardiologist even asked about my dad because he was so memorable to her. And she said, "He always made sure he knew everything that was going on with you and he never missed your appointments." And for those who know what Brenden went through...that was a lot of appointments. 

Through my dads life he suffered through illness and accident. He survived the front lines, a major car accident, diabetes, heart attacks, mini strokes, a catastrophic trip down the basement steps, and hip replacement which he proudly showed his scar much to our protest.....so many more things in the last few years. 

Watching my dad get old was tough. But we are blessed to have a lifetime of memories to share. We will miss your jokes, your teasing, your infectious laugh. Now we're going to tell your stories, Pop. 

About a week ago he felt good enough to go get some groceries. He left mom at home. And for a time he didn't return which of course worried her. But he had gone for a drive along the river and found someone to talk to. It gives me a lot of comfort knowing he took one last drive just to check things out.  

Funny enough or not his initials were RIP. I think I remember him saying once when we were naming our sons to pay attention to the initials because he didn't think his mother did when she named him. But I think he enjoyed them and probably had some fun with with them. So cheers to you with some chocolate milk Pop. We would toast you with an MGD 64 but honestly no one ever really liked your beer. I bet you are having the grandest of reunions right now. May you be as your initials state and rest in peace for eternity with our Heavenly Father. 

You fought the good fight

Pop... You will always be my John Wayne 

Video taken by Melody Reels during my dad's Honor Flight

My dad's welcome home from the Honor Flight

Thank you for all of your kind words, hugs, and condolences.

Blessings,

Monica

My Rosary

For the first twenty-four years of my marriage I watched my father-in-law sit in his chair and make rosaries. Those of you that know me well know the crunching, tapping, clicking, and anything like that drives me to insanity. So you can imagine how the snipping of the wire, while he patiently put each rosary together, drove me crazy. But I wasn't Catholic for all of those years and I didn't really know or understand what the rosary was all about. In fact, I had a very bad and inaccurate opinion of rosary beads and the prayer.

I wonder if maybe he prayed while he made them. He was a private man so we may never know. I'm sure Eric's mom prayed while he made them because six years ago I found myself being confirmed Catholic. It was during those nine months of classes I learned about the rosary. And sometime during those months, after all those years away from the Catholic faith, my husband pressed a rosary into my hand and prayed the most beautiful, healing rosary prayer for me. All of those rosaries Kenny Pugh made became very important to me during that prayer.

Kenny Pugh died last Friday. He was 86 years old. During the evening on Thursday, I had an overwhelming feeling to call Mona Lou, Eric's mom. I had a customer drop off a quilt top and just wanted to visit with her about it because she is an avid quilter. But I was holding my granddaughter, Miss Sophia, who was missing her daddy and mommy so much and crying. The evening passed and it was too late to call. Kenny was not one to talk on the phone much. He would answer. I would say, "Hi..how are you?" and he would almost immediately say, "Here's Mona Lou." But if I would have called I might have heard his voice one last time.

Kenny was a craftsman. He worked with his hands. He was a carpenter and a woodworker. So making rosaries came naturally to him. His real gifting was with woodworking. He built the home where he and Mona Lou raised their family and shared together for almost sixty years. His shop is still in the basement filled with treasures. It is a sacred space and one that the kids and grandkids knew they were not to step in without permission, although they did. I hadn't stepped in there until yesterday. I think he's chuckling in heaven knowing all of the treasures to be found in that space. Eric found his dad's journal written during his time in the navy tucked away and covered in sawdust. Mona Lou had never seen it. Yes, he was a very private man.

After hearing of his passing, I walked around my house realizing how many things he made for us that I use daily. There is something in every room...most rooms have lots of things. He framed pictures for me, made whistles and trucks for the kids, and always had some clever or silly thing to give us like the toast grabber (those of you who have a toast grabber are giggling about now). He didn't think that toast grabber was silly. I also have a beautiful clock, which I have always treasured, and my yarn barn hand carved with my name by Kenny. He wanted us to have everything displayed that he made. I always sensed his frustration with me at not having the ducks he carved displayed and he always wanted to know where they were. Kenny - I gave one to Bret because he lost his in the fire and the other one is on Eric's night stand.

Sometime during my RCIA classes or shortly after I was confirmed, I asked Kenny to make me a rosary using a small San Domiano crucifix Eric brought me from Italy. He said, "Well, I'll have to use some smaller beads but I think I can." He did. It is, I believe, a one of a kind rosary and probably one of the smallest he ever made. Eric's brother, Bret, said he didn't like working with the smaller beads. I will always cherish this rosary.

Shortly after I was confirmed, I told Eric we needed to go home so Kenny could teach me how to make rosaries. So we did and I spent a weekend learning. They came here another weekend and he gave me some more tips. I feel incredibly blessed to have learned this art from him. He made over 6,000. To date I have made fifty. I better get busy.

What I think I know about my father-in-law:
1. He was very consistent and lived in routine.
2. He was frugal.
3. He fed the birds and the squirrels everyday without fail.
4. He said very little but if he spoke you better listen.
5. The door to basement better get shut.
6. Don't stand and stare in the fridge...get what you want and get out.
7. Dinner is at noon and supper is at six. Don't be late.
8. He ate anything happily unless it was green for the most part...although he liked green beans.
9. He didn't like asparagus.
10. He came home and changed his shoes and clothes like Mr. Rogers.
11. Before he retired he took a snooze all stretched out in his chair...after he took a snooze whenever he wanted I think..we have lots of pictures of him sleeping.
12. He was the most loyal man to his wife I have ever, ever known.
13. He saved everything.
14. He was very humble and didn't take credit for anything he did.
15. He loved to play cribbage and made many cribbage boards.
16. He loved a snack of cheese and crackers before dinner.
17. He drank very weak white rum and diet cokes.... I think Thursday nights and maybe Saturdays after mass?
18. He also usually stocked the cheapest beer in the fridge or downstairs.
19. If the dishes weren't done, he would get up and do them.
20. He rose early before everyone else.
21. He liked to keep dry-roasted nuts in the cupboard for a snack.
22. He liked to pick black walnuts from their shells...incredibly patient with those.
23. If you asked him if he had something..he probably did... I asked him when Eric and I were first married for an old wagon wheel and he had one. It has been with us in every house we have lived.
24. He had the highest pain tolerance of anyone I have ever known and never complained that I ever heard.
25. My husband has his feet...and so do my kids and grandkids.... I only saw his one time when he was in the hospital and I was embarrassed to see them without socks or shoes.

There are many more.....

Kenny came down in October to give guidance to Eric on the building of our garage. All of the us treasure that time. I knew we would. Just not so soon. He mostly sat but he drew out the plans for the steps and gave guiding words. He came inside and I said, "Eric really appreciates you being here helping." He said, "Oh, I'm not doing much." Always humble. But he was doing everything that Eric needed. The kids will never forget how to straighten a board or a nail.

I stepped out on our deck that weekend in my white painters bibs. He chuckled when he saw me and said, "Oh, I probably have some of those you could use." He said he was required to wear two layers of clothes at Griffin Construction..he really didn't know why...so he just always kept doing it after he started his Pugh Construction.

Kenny never gave me any advice in thirty years until his hug goodbye that weekend. He told me I was too busy. I was so surprised to hear his words... and I listened. I have been slowly making changes to my schedules. I will not forget that last hug.

We ended his vigil Sunday night with a rosary prayer. Over 100 people were there. The grandkids handed out the last of his rosaries to those who wanted one. During the first decade, I had a vision of Kenny. He was looking down from the left and smiling a big smile. It was blue and green and bright behind him. Tears streamed and dripped down my face and off my chin. I wanted him to come back but he didn't. I thought maybe it was in my imagination. During the funeral the next day the priest talked about his big smile. I then thought maybe I was just seeing the picture on the program so I picked it up and looked. But I wasn't. That's not what I saw. I won't forget what I saw..... what an amazing thing for us to be praying with rosaries where he touched every single bead.

You lived a good life, Kenny Pugh. So handsome in life and so handsome and peaceful in death. You showed us love, not in words, but by making things for us. You will be greatly missed. Thanks for being an example of a good husband to my husband. Looking forward to telling my grandkids someday they have their great-grandpa Kenny's feet.... I'm sure they'll groan. But eventually they'll understand how wonderful it is.

Have fun playing with Lane and Mona Marie......

Love,
Monica

My Rosary