Two Eulogies

On September 15th, 2012, a man named Darrel Damer died.

Darrel has been my maternal randmother's 'gentleman companion' for the last decade. My grandfather died in 1996; Darrel's wife passed on around the same time. When Grandmother and Darrel met, each found in the other the joy and comfort that they had prepared themselves to live without for the rest of their lives.

Darrel was a great man. He was the proud patriarch of a large family, a kind and compassionate person who treated me like a grown grandson. The story of his life is amazing in full, a saga fortunately recorded in a private autobiography.

In WWII he was a naval gunner who rode aboard the Liberty Ships of the Atlantic convoys; he had three of them torpedoed out from under him. During one attack, he stayed at his cannon and continued to defend the ship even as it sank, giving the crew and the other gunners time to evacuate. As the water came up around his ankles, he scored a crippling blow on the U-boat that had attacked his ship. The submarine turned and fled for home while Darrel took off his shoes and calmly swam toward the lifeboats.

After the war, Darrel returned home to Virginia and began work as a steamfitter, a trade that he plied for several decades. He had little formal education, but he was a highly intelligent man and he sought knowledge wherever it could be found. During the time that I knew him, he borrowed many books from me, devouring subjects ranging from pre-Christian theology to theoretical physics with a zeal that eclipsed even my own. I always looked forward to the intellectual discussions that filled our visits.

On September 21st, 2012, Roy Jack, my wife's maternal grandfather, died very unexpectedly, probably from a heart attack.

He too was a great man, a model of wisdom and humility, the anchor of his family. Roy and his wife Rachel raised three children while running their own business, which is no mean feat. They started with a carpet and upholstery cleaning service, later branching out into interior decorating and opening a very successful home decor outlet.

I met Roy in 2001, and we got along right from the start. He had the best handshake of any man I've ever known. Like me, Roy was a man who loved to build and fix things, and he was possessed of a keen insight into the way the world worked, from something as small as an electric motor in a child's toy to things as large and abstract as international politics. He and I often sat in his living room at family gatherings, quietly discussing whatever took our fancy while watching his brood of grandchildren at play. The things I learned from him will stay with me for the rest of my days.

Both of these men made this world a better place, and it is poorer for their passing. They will be missed.