EULOGY FOR NORMAN V. ABBOTT
July 15, 2011

Margaret and the Abbott offspring, Stephanie, Sabrina, Randy, Catrina, and Aunt Sue contributed to this eulogy which I wrote and delivered at Norman's Service:

I am Margaret’s sister Rose, sister-in-law to Norman, Aunt Rose to some of you. On behalf of the Abbott Family, I want to thank all of you for coming, some of you from great distances. If you are from out of town, would you please raise your hand?

We are here to mourn because we have suffered a huge loss. The loss is especially terrible for Margaret and the Abbott offspring, Stephanie, Sabrina, Randy, and Catrina, and for the Abbott grandchildren and great grandchildren who loved their Pepa. His death is a huge loss for nephews Mark, Scott and Chris for whom he served as father after they lost theirs at a tender age
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We are also here to celebrate, to celebrate a man who lived a truly exemplary life. In many ways Norman Abbott wrote his own eulogy by living so full and so well. What I would like to do is describe some of the ways he lived, the strong relationships he enjoyed, and the faithfulness with which he met his responsibilities as citizen, soldier, father, husband, worker.

In addition to all his life roles, Norman was also an avid gardener, musician, camper, and reader. He always had his hobbies--leather working, wine-making, an old WW II Jeep, Volkswagen Beetles. He had a special room (his kids call it his La-BOR-atory) where he pursued his hobbies and fixed things. He could and did fix anything. If it was electronic, the repair gave him added delight. One time when Randy was small, he had a balloon that burst. Crying, he took it to his mother who told him it could not be fixed. Randy told her, “Well, I’ll just wait until Dad gets home.”

And, further icing on the Abbott cake, he was an excellent dancer and could be extraordinarily charming. Just ask any of his nurses at Barnes-Jewish Hospital in St. Peters where he spent his last three weeks. Whatever Norman undertook, he gave his fine intellect, his many skills, and his total dedication to it. He was interested in everything, and he was interesting. And he was a complex personality.

When Margaret first brought Norman home to meet the family, I thought he was the most handsome and dashing men I had ever seen. If any of you have looked at the photo of young Norman Abbott in his Air Force uniform popping up now on several Facebook pages, and included here, you know what I mean. At age 83 Norman was still a very handsome man, still the same size he was at age 25.

Over almost six decades, Norman proved to be a whole lot more than a pretty face. For the first 20+ years of their marriage, Margaret and Norman and their growing family were almost always on the move because he was in the service. They lived in Germany, Turkey, upstate New York, Idaho, Mississippi, Oklahoma and probably other places I no longer recall. After they retired from the service and built their home in St. Peters 41 years ago, Margaret and Norman never moved again. And all four of their kids live nearby.

If you have ever spent any time in the Abbott household, you know about the music and the laughter. A hootenany at the Abbot home is A Happening. For those of you who don’t know our Hillbilly language, a “hootenany” is a musical festival. Watching Norman accompany Stephanie on his guitar as she belted out “Me and Bobby McGee” is something I will never forget. Just imagine Janis Joplin cranking it up a notch or two.

Never much for television, the family was into conversation, sharing, those dreaded chores, and games--Pictionary, Trivial Pursuit, Monopoly, Cards, whatever. No one could beat Norman at Pictionary. No one.

Even this past Tuesday evening in the depths of their grief, family members were telling stories and laughing raucously. They are a funny, funny bunch. Sabrina’s imitation of her mom and dad the first time they went into a Taco Bell: Norman--”Do you have any buttermilk? What! No buttermilk?!” Margaret sitting down, unwrapping her burrito, saying, “Well, look at that. They wrapped the thing in a paper towel.”

If you can picture a Jim Carey who has found Jesus, you know Randy. Randy was a little older and quite an influence on Scott and Chris, his cousins. The boys’ mother once reminded the comic-Randy-turned-minister that sometimes his early influence had run counter to her own. Randy told her, “Don’t worry, Aunt Sue. If I led ‘em astray, I can lead ‘em back.”

Catrina said one time when she was really young she and her Dad were home alone, the rest of the family away for reasons she no longer remembered. He taught her how to make tiny champaign glasses out of paper. And Dad cooked--something not in his usual job description. Catrina saw him do something he would never have done had Mom been home; he picked up the green bean pan and drank juice from it. Seeing her amazed expression, he said, “Best nourishment is in the green bean juice. Would you like some?” She held up her tiny paper glass, and the two of them drank green bean juice from tiny paper champaign glasses.

Stephanie told of her Dad urging her to stop smoking when she was a young woman going out into the world. Driving by the commuter parking lot one day, she saw him smoking a cigarette as he waited for his ride. Later at home she lighted up. Her Dad said, “So, when did you take up that nasty habit again?” Stephanie defiantly told him, “Today, after I saw you standing in the commuter lot with a cigarette in your mouth!” Norman never smoked again.

Norman had that wonderful ability to learn and grow, to take feedback from others (as that last story illustrates), to consider it carefully, and to change if it made sense to him or if he saw a better way. Growing up in the south, he had learned prejudice. A traveled man of the world, he changed his attitudes. It is fitting that a black man, Reverand Purdy, is officiating at this service. Life and suffering also played a part. The problems and early death of their first grandchild utterly transformed Norman. Over the decades I knew him I was astounded at his many transformations. Yet, the basic honesty, goodness, and trustworthiness of the man were invariant.

Margaret and Norman were never religious in any traditional sense of the word. Their God has always been up close and personal, felt in the impulses that arose within them, evident in the intense love they shared with each other, with their family, and with all of us fortunate enough to be in their circle. Theirs is not a God they worshipped on Sunday. Their God is a living presence that found expression in and through them--not so much in words but in what they did and how they did it everyday in the simplest acts. Truly, their God is Love. Some say we are not human beings seeking spiritual expression; we are spiritual beings seeking human expression. If so, Norman and Margaret are powerful role model for the rest of us.