Last weekend I said goodbye to my father inlaw Joe Loomis. To be honest I could never write something that would adequately describe what he means to me. But I will try. When I was in high school, Morgan and I started dating. For my 18th Birthday we had a party at the Opera House. Being young, we didn't think about practical things like what we were going to eat, or where we were going to sleep. No one brought food that night. We just wanted to play. Joe looked at me and Morgan and asked, "What are you going to eat?" I said, " I don't know. We'll be alright." An hour later Joe had returned from town with tri-tip steaks and garlic bread for us. He didn't have to do it. We really would have been fine. But he wanted to. When Morgan and I were having a hard time in high school, Morgan decided to go for a walk in the middle of the night. He walked for hours until he finally walked so far that he didn't think he could walk back. So he called his dad to come get him. Joe asked him what was wrong. After Morgan explained a little, all Joe said was, " I thought it was either drugs or a woman." That was all he said.
When we told him we were getting married ten years later, he giggled with delight and said, "I thought that was what you were going to say. Wonderful! I loved being married" I remember the first time he told me he loved me. He was standing in the doorway of the house he was building. He was laughing with delight when he said it, I just couldn't believe how happy we made him.
He was a great listener and curious about everything. I love historical narratives and he loved history. We went on and on about Columbus, Cortez, and little Lady Barker from the NZ Sheep station. Every time he saw me he brought up a book that he thought I would like. It was a collection of journal entries from women who crossed the United State by wagon train. He never knew what happened to his copy of the book. It most likely got burned up in one the many house fires he lived through. A few days before the memorial I found the book he recommended on my grandma's bookshelf. I guess I am destined to read it.
Morgan's mom and dad had an interesting relationship that I never really understood. When my parents divorced, they avoided each other. Even now, they don't talk and only see each other when it is absolutely necessary. Morgan's parents though, were very different. Wherever their kids were, they both were, even after being divorced. They made conversation and never minded each other's presence. They did this for their children. I thought when people got a divorce, that was it.
You take these friends, I take these. We don't talk to each other. The kids make all the visitation arrangements, and I no longer care about you... at all. Most people think this way about divorce. Its normal. But Carol and Joe were never normal. When you talk to anyone about their marriage, everyone agrees that they loved each other very much. And even when it was over, their respect and a tinge of love lingered. I believe how they handled their divorce left their children whole.
The combination of Carol's abundance of unconditional love, and Joe's unconditional acceptance and respect for individuals made some amazing children. Joe was a man of principle. He believed that things were the way they were and people were the way they were. It wasn't our job to change anyone or anything. It was our job to wonder. He found amusement and pleasure in the simplest things. When he was showing us around his amazing home that he built himself, I made the polite conversational comment that all he needed was a few pictures to hang on the walls. For some reason he thought that was hilarious. The next time we came to visit he had maps, family photos, and art hanging everywhere, all because of me he would say. He never did things to achieve higher financial or social status. He never did things for the sake of completing tasks. He did things for his pleasure and enjoyment. When I think about this I think that his mind was closer to godliness than any of us, as pleasure is the purest motivation to create.
Because of Joe, my love for people has become simplified. While some see his refusal to dwell on problems as a fault, I see it as optimism and idealism. For this I can respect him and be eternally grateful for what I have learned from him.
