The Radio

Ranae is planting flowers outside. It was quiet and I thought I would get the radio I picked up from Dad's workbench in the garage. I had tried it there and knew the switches were dirty so I took it in my room and sprayed some contact cleaner on the on/off and tuning switches, turned it on and, this is the absolute truth, the first song I heard was the last 30 seconds of The Wish, by Rascal Flats. I had never heard that song before Tom sent me the link a few weeks ago.

I tuned the radio to a rock station and put it outside with Ranae and came in to blog this.  She just hollered through the door that it was playing "Hell's Bells". Maybe Tom should have this radio.

Once a Marine, Always a Marine – Semper Fi

My Dad passed away peacefully in the early morning hours of October 21, 2012. It was a Sunday.

At the age of 17, he joined the United States Marine Corp in June of 1941, after finishing boot camp in San Diego, he was stationed at Naval Station, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii sometime in August of 1941. On December 7th, 1941 – William E. Harrer survived the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor where 2,403 Americans lost their life. He received an honorable discharge from the Marines on October 17, 1945.

My Dad was a humble man; he didn't talk a lot about World War II or serving our country at Pearl Harbor, Iwo Jima and Guam. I was almost 40 before be really shared his wartime experiences with his family. We planned a family reunion in Hawaii and Dad took our families, including his 10 grandchildren to the joint base Pearl Harbor-Hickam field and gave us a tour while he relived the ordeal in vivid detail with his family. For the first time we learned he had kept a piece of shrapnel which nearly took his life that day.

Dad loved the Marines. He was proud to be one of the “Few Good Men”.

When the active Marine unit in Bakersfield, California got word of my Dad’s passing, they assembled a twelve-man honor guard and helped us close a truly beautiful memorial service with a full military funeral. Two Marines lifted his flag from the draped coffin as if it was floating in air, then a seven-man team fired 3 shots in harmony for a 21-gun salute, followed by a lone bugler playing taps somewhere off in the background. At the end taps, the flag was folded and passed through three Marines, by Rank, until a Marine commander knelt in front of my oldest brother, Tom, and said:

“On behalf of the President Of the United States, the Commandant of the United States Marine Corps, and a grateful Nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation of your Father’s service to Country and Corps.”

It was the most beautiful tribute I could ever image.

Back when Dad joined the Marines in 1941, one of the Marine recruitment posters was, “Once a Marine, Always a Marine”. It was coined by a gung-ho Marine Corps master sergeant, Paul Woyshner in 1917. Years later, the Commandant of the Marine Corp made it official: Once the title "U.S. Marine" has been earned, it is retained. There are no ex-Marines or former-Marines. There are (1) active duty Marines, (2) retired Marines, (3) reserve Marines, and (4) Marine veterans. Once one has earned the title, he remains a Marine for life.

“Once a Marine, Always a Marine” is not a recruiting slogan today, it’s a way of life for those who serve. I did not comprehend or fully appreciate what these words meant until I felt it as I looked into every one of those twelve Marines’ eyes as they honored my father on that day. They truly lost one of their brothers as well.

God bless The United States Marine Corp, past, present and future.

John's Eulogy - Learn By Doing

Learn By Doing

You can't get Life Experience if You Do Not Live

I was fifteen and a half.  As all the Harrer boys, I had been saving my money for a car.  Dad liked auctions.  We were at the County auction as we were most every year.  It was Billy’s year to get a car.  Tom had gotten one the year before.  Mine turn would come next year.  Bill had a budget, found his car, and gave Dad the money to bid on it for him.  Sold. Dad and I sat there watching the rest of the cars move through the auctioneer’s gavel.  He asks, “What do you think of this one?”  I was 15, anything with tires and a steering wheel looked great.  Next thing I know he bid on and bought that car with the stipulation I pay him back before my sixteenth birthday.  Painful but doable.  When it was finally mine he gave me a gas credit card mainly for emergencies, but we could use it, again with a stipulation – the bill gets paid in full at the end of each month.

Things went along well for about six months when, despite the fact gas prices were under fifty cents a gallon, I managed to charge ninety dollars in gasoline.  I was studying when he walked in my room and said, “Here’s you gas bill.  It’s ninety bucks”.

My jaw dropped!  I had not kept track.  “How much?!  Ninety!  I..I don’t have it.” 

“Okay, I need the card back. Pay me what you can, and the rest I’ll take in installments.”  Nothing else was said.

Three months later I left the check for the final installment quietly on his desk – proud it was paid off – ashamed I had done it in the first place.  Later that evening he walked into my room and said, “Here’s your credit card back.”

“Oh, no.  I don’t want to have anything to do with that.  I learned my lesson”

“Not quite.  You learned how to use it the wrong way.  Now learn how to use it the right way,” he placed the card in my hand turned and left.

That’s the way he taught us – by example.  Always right there in the trenches with us.  Even these last two months.  On every day I was with him, we never failed to share a smile or a laugh together.  Even at the darkest times.  He was teaching.  By example.  We were in the trenches together. Preparing me for the last and most difficult chapter.  The chapter that doesn’t include rubbing his shoulders, hearing his voice, or sharing a game of 5-straight.

Thanks, Dad, for being a father and setting the best example for what a man is supposed to be.  For being a business partner and showing me how integrity spills out beyond family.  For being a friend and sharing tennis and dancing and even doctor’s appointments.  For encouraging me to never stop learning something new. 

You gave me the greatest life a boy could ever hope for.  Good-bye, Dad.

Tom's Eulogy - Dad's Legacy

“Hi Dad, are you coming over for Sunday Night Dinner?”

(pause)

“Mary and I are going to the Elephant Bar, do you want to come along?”

(pause)

“Grant has a two day Tournament this weekend down South.  The first game is at 8:30 Saturday morning.  Can you leave on Friday? “

(pause)

“How would you like to spent Father's Day at Torrey Pines in San Diego watching a bunch of golfers battle for the honor of lifting the U S Open Cup?”

(pause)

His answer was always “SURE”.

Those are only some of the memories I will cherish forever.

As I look back over the memories, one thing comes to my mind:  "What is Dad’s legacy?" What will he leave behind?

Out of the corner of my eye I see my sister Cathi in the dining room at Rosewood looking across at a man sitting all alone for dinner. She walks across the room, “Hi my is name Cathi, what's yours?” “Chuck”.  “Chuck, my Dad has some room at his table, would you like to join him?”  They became “Best Buddies”.

Out of another corner of my eye I see my brother Bill, walking Mary Moon, a patient we think is suffering from dementia, back to her room.  “Is this my room?”  “Yes, MARY this is your room.”  She gives out a big smile.

Another image is my brother John, he was always the first to visit Dad in morning, making sure his coffee wasn't too hot, and his scrambled eggs were cut up. I had heard of a blog, but wasn't quite sure exactly what a blog was, but oh, can the man write!  Each day we couldn't wait to read his blog about his morning visit with Dad.

Another image, it’s my brother Jim.  Just like the first couple of weeks of football practice, when Dad arrived at Rosewood it was double sessions - 30 minutes of therapy in morning and another 30 minutes in the afternoon. Jim got to know every therapist by their first name. “Come on Dad, one more for Tina.”

So his legacy is getting a little clearer to me. One of his last doctors' appointments was with Dr. Heidari.  Dad was too sick to go, but I had same questions for the doctor, so off I went.  After all the questions were answered, just as I was leaving, Dr Heidari said, “Tom I have one more thing to share with you. I can only hope I have raised my two sons in the same manner as your Dad has raised his children.”  Now, it’s perfectly clear to me the legacy my Dad will leave behind.

So as I raise my glass and toast to this kind and gentle man, that taught me so much, I know on the other side is my Mom, also raising her glass with all her friends and family, saying “Welcome home, welcome home Honey”.

Bill & Ben's Eulogy "Life isn't about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain”

I am Bill Harrer, the 3rd and middle child of Bill and Kaye Harrer and Yes, I am the favorite child.  Well, actually any of us could have raised our hands, because Dad had a way of making us all feel like we were his favorite. I would like to thank you all for coming today to help celebrate the life of our Dad.

I have also been honored to be named after my Dad, a honor that I have cherished all of my life and something that I have given to my first son, who in turn has given to his only son.  I know they will cherish that honor as much as I do.

One of the special things that Dad liked was to make birthday, Christmas, anniversary or other special day cards for his friends and family.  I had already written two eulogies for my Dad when I came across a handwritten note from Dad in a box of cards that Dad was working on.

It simply said: "Life isn't about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain”.  This note from him seemed like the perfect metaphor for his life, something he did extremely well.  He loved to dance and he could always see the sunshine through the clouds.

As I watched my Dad body fail him over the past five months, I came to learn that this quote may have been as much for him as it was for someone else.

Dad's life was not a simple life, being born in 1923 he grew up during the depression era.  That coupled with the fact that his father's had a tragic accident  when Dad was 5 or 6 meant that he would grow up without a father, but he and his two brothers and two sisters learned how to dance in the rain at a very young age.

Dad never complained about not having a father, or being poor, or going into the service and being stationed in Hawaii only to have his tranquility disrupted after two weeks, on that infamous Dec 7th day. No, he talked about what fun he had with his brothers and sisters, what his Mom went through to ensure the children were raised properly and how nice Hawaii was.  He didn't know adversity because he refused to let it dampen his spirits.  When it rained in Dad's life, he just figured it was time to learn a new dance.

His life was not easy, but you couldn't tell how hard it was because he was too busy having fun living.

When my Mom, his wife, died in 2002, Dad didn't quit living, no, he dug deep and strengthened his friendship with existing friends and went out and developed new friendships.  And for those friends of Dads that played tennis with him 3 times per week and danced with him, I would like to thank you being an important part of his life.

Dad also began to travel more and see the world, something he had wanted to do since joining the Marines in June 1941.  Dad traveled to China, Germany, Austria, Italy and Switzerland.  He went on cruises to the Caribbean and from Boston north to Canada.  I was fortunate enough to travel with Dad on many trips and Dad was about loving the moment, his family and his friends.

Even in his final months as he struggled at the Nursing Home, Dad made some good friends with the other patients and staff.  They all came to know and love him because he was not burdened by caring a chip on his shoulders.  He enjoyed these new people that he met and treated them with love and kindness and in turn was treated with an abundance of love and kindness.

I am sure if Dad was here today, that he would tell you that no matter when you were born, that rain is going to fall during your lifetime and that you would be much better off learning to dance in the rain, then pretending it is not raining or trying to wait out the storm.  That it was some of those times while he was dancing in the rain that he found himself enjoying life the most.  That even though the clouds might come and block the sun, the sun still shines for us and those clouds will eventually pass.  It is what you do while those clouds block the sun that defines you as a person. 

For those that knew my Dad, knows he loved to dance, rain or shine. 

Thanks Dad for always putting us kids first, for coaching me in baseball, for exploring the world with me and for teaching me how to dance. 

Now I would like to invite my Grandson Ben up.  Ben is my daughter Sarah's 2nd child and one of Double G's 10 Great Grandchildren.  Ben last saw his Double G just about three weeks ago when my Dad's hearing had worsened and we had rigged up a set of headphones with an amplifier to allow Dad to hear us.  Ben enjoyed talking with Double G and especially liked talking into the amplifier.  Dad commented after Sarah, Rob and the kids had left that Ben was destined to be newscaster or reporter the way he loved talking into that microphone.  Dad really cherished the time he spent with his Great Grand-kids.

Ben, upon learning of Double G's passing and subsequent services today, asked if he could speak.  He was concerned that Double G might not be able to hear him, but Sarah and Rob have assured him that he will be listening and will be extremely proud to hear him talk.  Sarah and Ben have worked with the other Great-grandchildren to identify what made Double G so special to them.

Ben.....

I want to share with you the Great Grand-kid’s favorite memories of Double G.

Grant and Kyle both loved playing 5 Straight and the cad game Golf with Double G.

Hailey liked that every time she saw him he was smiling.

Drake said that he had funny jokes.

Cooper loved the cards that Double G would make him for his birthday.

Taylor said that she like his hugs.

Sam said that he was very nice and brave.

Claire said that Double G was very, very kind.

We will miss Double G and we love him very much.

Dear Dad - (Catie's Euology)

Dear Dad:



I miss you already.  Over the past 6 months, I watched you fight the battle of your life. So many times, we would gather around you thinking this was it, and yet you fought to stay, you fought to tell us one more story, to give one more kiss, to say one more “I love you.” And so now, with the reality that your final day came I say.. no, wait a minute, I’m not ready. 

To share this last month with you and the boys, by your side, learning more about you, watching your strength as you faced each day during this illness, was awe-inspiring.  To sit on the side of your bed, with my head on your shoulder while we cried together and then fifteen minutes later getting beat in a game of 5 Straight, as you bucked up for me, helped me to focus on remembering the life I had being your daughter… not the sadness of not having those moments with you anymore. 

You were the perfect father, advisor, friend and partner in crime.  Whether I was getting in trouble as a teenager ~  or moving to Los Angeles to ‘be on my own’, taking the leap to move to Utah, even though I would be so far away from family, going back to school at 50, or any other decision I’ve made, you were always there to say either “learn from it, and then it isn’t a mistake” or “go for it, you never know until you try”.  What a wonderful example of how to live life to it’s fullest.

Dad, I will always cherish the memories I have of you with my children, whether it was playing tennis or just hanging out, you gave them someone to admire, to love and to learn from. And I have a favorite memory – when we went together to visit Jim in Bend. We decided to drive home down the Northern California Coast where the roads were wind ee  ...a dadism, "man, you can see yourself comin and goin on this road”  We decided to spend the night so we could enjoy Mendocino the next day, but because of a big reggae festival we couldn’t find a hotel room anywhere.  Finally, after over 12 hours on the road we pulled in to a Denny’s parking lot and slept in the car.  You never complained, even though the quarters within the Ford were small and the weather was cold and dreary.  We got up early the next morning and went in to Denny’s for a hot breakfast. As we were having a cup of coffee, you lifted your cup for a toast and said, “Hon, next time we want to do a bed and breakfast, let’s not get it backwards, okay hon?” We laughed, finished our breakfast and went off on an adventure to find the glass beach. You sent me down the side of a cliff to pick glass pebbles and then held out your hand to help me  back up. You were always doing that, Dad.  It was a perfect vacation.

So, THANK YOU Dad, for being the person who set the bar for the man I wanted to marry and the sons I wanted to raise.  Thank you for being someone who would inform my daughter on what to expect from a hard-working, honest and decent man.  Thank you for always looking forward and only looking back with gratitude, love and fondness for the opportunities you were given and the choices you made from those opportunities.  Thank you for giving me the strength to spread my wings and explore what life had in store for me, it took me around the world and settled me exactly where I was meant to be.  I am grateful that you are you and I am blessed that my eyes were open enough to recognize the true sparkle of you.  You are truly a one-in-a million man.

I am deeply proud of your accomplishments, your service to family, God and Country.  And finally Dad, thank you for providing us with a strong, loving home where now, we can all face this difficult time together.  That home is always in my heart, no matter where I am or how far away I might be and because of you, I know we will all make it through this painful experience together, with love and comfort. Give mom a hug and kiss from all of us and remember your promise. It was one of the last nights we had together while you were still able to speak, you told me not to worry, I said, But Dad, I’m, scared.. and after a few minutes you said, Don’t worry hon, I’ll always find you”.  I love you Dad, with all my heart, and then some.

Your Daughter, Cathi. 



Remembering My Dad - Jim's Eulogy

Good afternoon, it’s nice to see so many of my dad’s friends and family gathered here today. Dad loved family gathers more than anyone. As someone remarked hours after his passing, “We’re all brothers and sisters on this earth” – I can’t think of a better way to simply say, “Welcome Family” - we’re privileged to have you share this time with us, as we celebrate a truly remarkable life.

I’m Jim, the youngest of five siblings. I was born 54 years ago, when my dad was 34. In 1958, 34 was considered well past middle age, and in that period, pretty old to be having your 5th child. Dad proved the skeptics wrong as he was active in all-of-my life. He watched me turn 50, watch my kids, Nikki and CJ, grow into adulthood and got to spend time with my grand kids Hailey and Drake. This was not unusual, Dad was active in all of our lives.

This afternoon you’ll be hearing from each of the five kids, along with a couple of surprise speakers I think you’ll enjoy. We each feel the best way to honor our dad is to share with you just a few stories and lessons learned. I’m blessed to have an amazing sister and brothers who are unique, yet similar in many ways, as you’ll see today.

Dad had cancer; we don’t know how long exactly, it was sneaky, appearing as extra fluid around his belly, ear aches, and other problems that caused recent hospital visits.

In the end, Dad figured out how to stop cancer from stealing valuable time from his kids. I believe he added 5 years to his life, however those 5 years were condensed down into months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds and divided into 5 for each of us to spend with him, one-on-one, over the past several months.

Cancer also brought me much closer to my siblings; something I didn’t think was possible considering how close we have all been throughout my life. We rallied behind dad, teamed up to watch over him with the doctors and hospital staff. No one touch dad without our watchful eye. We all loved caring for him and he loved seeing us all together.

So no, cancer did not win. Dad won. Family won. I won.

Four months ago, he took me out for tacos and a margarita to celebrate my birthday. Just two men, sitting in a booth, slowing down time. We sat for hours, we talked about life, being a dad, work, love, and memories of my mom. It was magical and the best birthday I could ask for. I got to express how I really felt about him, as a man and as my dad. Before we left that booth, he grabbed my hand tight, looked me straight in my eyes and said, “I’ve had a good life, I have five great kids, happy birthday.”

I responded, “Dad, one last question, who’s your favorite?” He just gave that grin, nothing more.

Dad was born in 1923, his first refrigerator was an ice-box. No, that isn’t a brand name, it was an insulated box that had a block of ice in it to cool it down. His first phone was a party line, he would pick up the phone and the operator would connect his call. He didn’t learn to drive until his twenties, they would gather around the radio, not the TV, to be entertained.

I asked him what technological advancement he appreciated the most and he told me: carbon fiber and titanium.

That makes sense I said, you used those materials at Valley Machine Shop.  “I’m talking about my tennis racket, they’ve come a long way since laminated wood”, Dad said with another grin.

As I looked at thousands of family photos over the past month, it dawned on me that I was taller than him. I found that funny, as I always thought of him taller than me. That will not change.

I always described my dad as a quiet man. What I came to understand was, he's simply an intense listener. He didn’t duck a hard question and would offer advice when asked, but he preferred to listen. I would like to be as good as a listener as him someday.

His roots grew deep. 47 years in the same home on Christmas Tree Lane, the only home I remember growing up in. I celebrated 41 consecutive Christmas Eves in that home, it’s full of memories. I’ve come to appreciate everything about the home this past year, like sitting at his roll-up desk that I used to do my homework on in high school. He told me a few weeks ago, “oh you’re going to have a lot of fun going through the house when I’m gone, it’s full of treasures.” He wasn’t kidding. I opened his main dresser drawer and right next to his underwear were hundreds of postcards, from each of the kids over the past 40 years. He kept them all, right next to his tighty-whities. Hand written postcards, with a picture that speaks 1000s of words. Postcards are so underrated in today’s text message society. When you leave here today, pick up a post card and send it to someone you love. If you get one, stick it in your underwear drawer.

Be kind and watch what happens. Dad never held back a thank-you, regardless of his poor health or lack of strength. He found the strength to say it…often. I got to witness the power of those two words, over and over again and how it truly touched his doctors, staff at memorial hospital and at Rosewood. I learned that "Thank You" is an expression of love, be generous with them.

Dessert. My dad NEVER passed on homemade desert and we learned at an early age that a meal was not complete without desert. I going to miss hearing him say, “What’s for dessert?” Start enjoying dessert again and think of my dad.

I didn't doubt that my dad knew that I loved him. These past weeks allowed me to have moments of true clarity with him. I wanted him to know I was struggling with what my life would be like without him, when he had been there for me, my entire life. It’s not that we talked all the time, we didn’t, but he was there when I did call. He always greeted me with a hug and got choked up, in a cute way, when it got time for me to return to Oregon. Now I can talk to him without picking up the phone and I fill his presence all around me.

As I am standing up here today, I realize how fortunate I was to have him as my Father and am thankful for the influence he had in my life.

As I close, if there is one thing that I would want you to remember about my dad, it would be that he loved us, with all his heart. As we gather here today to celebrate his life, I know there is not one member of my family that wished Dad had loved them more, we simply wish we could have loved him longer.

Good Bye Pop – Give mom a hug for me.

...Jim