Eulogy by Jimmy, given 2/25/2002

Please bear with me a second, as I gather my thoughts.

As everyone probably knows, I’m absent-minded. So, as per my style, I wrote this in the car on my way over here. So, if I pause to read my own hand writing, please bear with me.

We all are here to honor and remember the life and times of Clarence “Andy” Waller. It seems to be all the rage these days to attempt to make funerals a happy time, to quote, unquote “celebrate his life,” but I can not concur with this. We’re SAD that he’s gone, and to be anything less isn’t a credit to his memory.

Andy lived a very full and a very great life. To highlight just a few things, he has 5 children, numerous step-children and grandchildren and a LOT of friends. Andy, by trade, was a truck driver, a skill he picked up in the army. He served honorably during the Vietnam War. These things were part of what made him who he was. Andy, was always a little prickly on the outside, but when you got to know him just a little, he was an incredibly smart, honorable, and loving man. I like to think that he has had a large part in making me the person I am today. I’m sure there are many here that can and will say the same about themselves.

Andy was tragically injured in a work-related injury on Feb 6, 1980. Being left a paraplegic, he still led a full life from that point forward. He went on to marry my mother and have two more children. He had a work ethic that anyone would envy. He went to work for the Oklahoma County Court Clerk’s Office and was considered by many to be excellent at his job. He woke up at 5:30 AM every day to head out and considered it a great thing to still be able to work, even after his injury. Personally, I am glad he had that opportunity, because it made him happy to continue to contribute to society.

Andy always went out of his way to help others. Most memorable to me was the night he showed me how to do a much-needed tune-up on my $300 special, a car that got me to work and back…. And that’s it. When he saw it the first time he told me, “Damn son, that is about the ugliest car I have ever seen.” And he was right. But that didn’t stop him from shelling out the $20 I didn’t have to buy the spark plugs that it needed or from staying up until 3 AM to ensure I could get the job done. I could go on and on about these kinds of things that he did to help people, and I’m sure everyone else could come up with a thing or three, but unfortunately we don’t have the several days it would take to remember all of them.

Andy’s moods ranged from amiable to slightly annoyed, usually about kids. I remember a particular story from right after Shelby was born. Andy was setting up one of those wind-up infant swings, you know, the kind you wind up and it swings back and forth… My mother asked him if he wanted the directions. Typical of his style, Andy of course grumbled under his breath that he “didn’t need those damn things” and he’d do it his way. Exasperated, my mom left the room and only Lesley was left there, reading a book or something. After tinkering with the swing for a good hour or so, Andy finally had enough. He ripped one of the legs right off the swing and proceeded to beat the rest of the swing set with it. Annoyed, he left the room to smoke and grumble at the TV set for awhile. Later that evening, he came back to the swing, and “decided" he would read the directions. What was most entertaining about the situation, though, was Lesley was sitting there the entire time, plastered to the couch and not daring to laugh, even as he beat the heck out that swingset. (smile)

One thing about his passing that makes me feel a little happy is that now, he’ll FINALLY have a full set of tools up there, because he never was able to keep ‘em with the various kid’s he’s had down here. I got the third degree many times about where “Such and such” was. My typical response was, “What’s that?” followed closely by “I didn’t touch it, I promise.” Depending on the severity of what was missing, those were followed by “I have no idea where that went,” which translated into “I’m gonna secretly figure out where the heck I misplaced it.”

One of the best things to happen to Andy after his injury was his regaining his drivers license in 1986. Andy had a real feel for the road and you could always tell he missed driving. Well, after he moved in with my mom and I, he got the 1978 Ford LTD we had mouldering in the driveway repaired and outfitted with hand controls. Now, this car was GIGANTIC! I mean, picture an aircraft carrier, paint it blue, and you’ve got the proper dimensions for this car. Now, picture when you learned to drive, only doing it with just hands and no feet and steering this monstrosity. Under NORMAL circumstances my mother is a white knuckled passenger. I am frankly surprised that she didn’t have a nervous breakdown during Andy’s re-introduction into the world of driving! But, after about two weeks, the hand controls clicked for Andy, and then he could drive, hold a conversation, smoke his pipe, drink coffee, eat a Whopper, and swear at traffic.

After Andy passed on, it still didn’t stop my step-sisters, mom, and I from having a good laugh. We decided it was time for some coffee, and I set out to make some. Well, I found the coffee pot still turned on and determined that it had probably been plugged in for the previous week or so. That pot was bone dry. Even the coffee grounds were dried out. I made some new coffee, or tried to anyway. We determined very quickly that the pot had cooked its last coffee. After thinking about this, mom said it was appropriate that the coffee pot died the same day Andy did. After all, who says you can’t take it with you? (smile)

Andy passed on at 4:30 AM in the morning. He died well, in his own house, his own bed, with his family and his dog by his side. It was a fairly fast passing. He came home on Saturday afternoon and he was feeling well enough to sit in the sun. It was nice out, 75 degrees or so and it seemed to cheer him a bit. He died the next evening, after everyone was able to get home to see him, and to get things said. He died in his sleep, as easily as one could ever hope. I was lucky to have gotten here before he went to sleep the last time and was able to talk with him about idle things, and was able to let him know that that I loved him very much. He told me not to worry, he wasn't going anywhere and that he loved me. Even at the end, he had a zest for life and fought to stick around, even if it was just to make us feel better. He will be sorely missed. It was obvious of his and my Mom’s love for each other. Even as he was dying the night before he actually passed, he took the time out to nibble her finger, and kiss at her the way he always did to let her know he was ok. He died the next evening in my Mom’s arms.

He was a good man, the strongest and most honorable I’ve ever known.

It was a good day to die.