Sherman "Bill" Coleman

Eulogy for Grandpa

As Grandpa Bill’s third grandchild, I wasn’t around for the many of the events mentioned in his obituary. Grandpa shared bits and pieces of his history with us--how hard he and his family worked to get through the Depression and how he travelled to Alaska, Hawaii and Canada during the war, how he lost parts of his fingers in a farm accident--and there was an incident in which he may have used some colorful language while working with his horse--and unbeknownst to him, the preacher was well within earshot of the exchange.

I also know that he wanted to be a cowboy when he grew up, he disliked all of his old school teachers and his worst subject was English.

So I’m pretty certain I might be the only English teacher he ever really liked.

And I am also certain that Grandpa didn’t ever want anyone to make a big fuss over him, but he was the type of man whom you wanted to make a big fuss over. Since Grandpa rarely, if ever, told me no, I’m going to take a few minutes to make a little fuss over Grandpa. But to make him happier, I’ll try to keep it short.

Justene Marten, Grandpa’s former neighbor, wrote the following poem on the Ritchie Funeral Home website, as a tribute to Grandpa, and I would like to take a moment to share it with you all:
The world has lost a treasured friend, 
a strong and quiet man, 
A man who loved his life, 
His friends, and family, the land.
There are no words to honor one 
who honored life so much, 
Just respect and gratitude 
from all the lives that he has touched.
A man who loved the soil, 
And working with his hands, 
Who faced Each day with joy 
To share his living from the land.

As I read those words, I couldn’t help but picture Grandpa the way I will always remember him: his hat cocked to the side of his head, sleeves rolled up on his button-up shirt, a strap on his striped overalls slightly slipping off his shoulder as he sits on a bucket waiting for the truck to load. I can even hear his laugh and see the slightly ornery twinkle in his blue eyes when he gave one of us grandkids a hard time.

As you probably know, Grandpa played a huge part in our lives; we saw him every day on the farm. We could count on him pulling into the drive to chore before the bus arrived, and we knew that there was a good chance that he would take us into Gravity for red creme sodas at Charlie’s Cafe if he had a chance. He was a part of every holiday and birthday celebration, took us to the Sidney Rodeo, attended almost every event we participated in, gave us forbidden treats, and even taught us how to dress a chicken.

Grandpa also taught each of us to drive--well before the legal driving age, of course. I have vivid memories of sitting on his lap, steering on the way into town while he operated the pedals--probably because I couldn’t reach them. Because he was our primary instructor, he also knew some of us had a few shortcomings behind the wheel. Despite this, once we were licensed drivers, he still said “take my pick-up if you want to” weekend after weekend--and we all did, because his Ranger was so much cooler than our station wagon to go cruising in with our friends.

Once we were all grown and had families of our own, Grandpa was just as connected to our lives even though he no longer saw us daily. I know he would ask Dad for updates on our schooling, our jobs, our kids, and we all knew he was intensely proud of us--no matter what path we had taken--and he was equally proud of his great-grandkids too. We had chances amid the hub-bub of holiday meals and frequent birthday celebrations for him to check in with us to make sure we were doing well.

Grandpa was a man of few words most of the time, but the ones he said--and even the ones he didn’t--really counted. After each family gathering, Grandpa never told us good-bye. Instead, he made sure we heard him holler from his chair, “come back.” And when he said “come back,” I knew he not only really meant that, but he also really meant “I love you.”

Now, not all of you have had the pleasure of being at one of our birthday celebrations or holiday meals, but the fact that Grandpa recently said, “Look what we started, Helen” after the whole crew cleared out--and in a proud way, not a “thankfully-it’s-finally-quiet” sort of way--shows how he really felt about us.

And, Grandpa had it right. Grandpa gave us many things in life: the family farm, gifts, memories, and a helping hand when we needed it. But look around at what Grandpa really gave us.  It is this family.  This ever-growing family is his legacy and we – every one of us – are part of it. I know that we will all feel the emptiness of his chair at our family gatherings now, but Grandpa’s not really gone. Each of us carries a bit of his spirit in us: maybe it’s his work ethic, or his humming habit, his generosity, his sense of humor, or his penchant for naps. It could be his non-judgmental nature, his sweet tooth, his dependability, or maybe even his slightly stubborn streak. How did we all get so lucky?

So Grandpa, I have just one last thing to say – It’ll be a little while, but we will all come back and see you, okay?  We know you’ll probably be wearing your overalls and napping in a recliner or enjoying a whiskey sour again while shooting the breeze with your friends to pass the time. We know you’ll continue to keep tabs on us and help us out when you can. But in the meantime, try to enjoy the peace and quiet while you can, because when we all get up there with you…well, you know how loud it can get. 

And, Grandpa, we love you, too.  Rest peacefully.  You deserve it.

April 21, 2012

Eulogy for Grandpa

As Grandpa Bill’s third grandchild, I wasn’t around for the many of the events mentioned in his obituary. Grandpa shared bits and pieces of his history with us--how hard he and his family worked to get through the Depression and how he travelled to Alaska, Hawaii and Canada during the war, how he lost parts of his fingers in a farm accident--and there was an incident in which he may have used some colorful language while working with his horse--and unbeknownst to him, the preacher was well within earshot of the exchange.

I also know that he wanted to be a cowboy when he grew up, he disliked all of his old school teachers and his worst subject was English.

So I’m pretty certain I might be the only English teacher he ever really liked.

And I am also certain that Grandpa didn’t ever want anyone... READ MORE →