Eulogy by William W. Westman

Delivered November 23, 2004

Dad, I wish you were here, you should have seen it. Three outs from elimination, your beloved Red Sox came from behind to beat the Yankees in four straight—the greatest comeback (and greatest choke) in baseball history. Then…..they beat the mighty Cardinals in four straight in the World Series. But, perhaps you had a hand in this…..

On a recent trip, while waiting to board a long flight from Houston to Sao Paulo, I picked up the book, His Excellency, George Washington, by Joseph J. Ellis. In the Preface of the book, Ellis questions whether we are prepared to listen to a “vulnerable, exposed, and ever talkative Washington as revealed in the ‘Washington Papers’.” He writes….”For reasons best explained by Shakespeare and Freud, all children have considerable difficulty approaching their fathers with an open mind.” And, reflecting on what may emerge from our hearts, he says, “…a volatile psychological chemistry bubbles away inside all children in simmering pools of dependency, rebellion, love, and fear, intimacy, and distance.”

Regarding the task of deciphering and understanding complex relationships, and ultimately ourselves, fortunately my father left us some insights and clues to his thoughts, loves, concerns, and conflicts in his wonderful yearly musings. There are several paths to take at this moment. My father always gave me endless opportunities to question and inquire about the nature of things—and he always had a reply that inevitably led to more questions. This occurred from as long ago as I can remember until the day he died.

I’ll always remember his love of baseball. Growing up in Ohio and New York State, I vividly recall our sojourns to the old Cleveland stadium to see Rocky Colavito. In Rochester, we would go to see the AAA Redwings and I can see him and his quiet conversations with his friend, Mr. Fitts, about the manager’s decision to go to the bullpen too early. “Baseball is the best game”, he said, “Consider the practice and skill required to get to this level—finesse and strategy, nuance, the statistics, joy and sorrow (the Red Sox gave him plenty of reasons to feel sorrow over the years!), calculated risks, the double up the gap, the home run.”

Recently, I received a very nice message from his good friend Richard Fitts, who said: “A service yesterday here focused on Loss. At one point in the service paper cutouts in the shape of leaves were distributed. People were invited to write the name of one person who had died and what "gifts" they had given you and to hang them on a branch of a tree at the front of the church.

I wrote CJW's name on mine with the quality of "courage". As I believe I wrote previously, he had the greatest impression on me as a minister of the many I have known.”

From the Poet, Elizabeth Roberts

When I die, if you need to weep
Cry for your brother or sister walking the street beside you.
And when you need me, put your arms around anyone and give them what you need to give me.

I want to leave you something,
Something better than words or sounds.

Look for me in the people I’ve known or loved
And if you cannot give me away
At least let me live in the gentleness and goodness of your eyes and not simply the frozen memories of your mind.

You can love me most by letting hands touch hands
By letting bodies touch bodies
And by holding tight to children who so often need more than we can possibly see.

Love doesn’t die, people do
So when all that’s left of me is love
Give me away.