Melody's Eulogy

You know how every family has their unique quirks?  Those inside jokes or stories between family members that only they “get”? When growing up as a teen you think those quirks are the most embarrassing things in the world, but as you grow and reach adulthood you look back and giggle because you quickly realize that those quirks are what make family so special. I’m going to attempt to share a few of those family quirks, stories and memories with you.

If you knew my Dad, you knew the entire spectrum of emotions he was able to express. Dad was stubborn, hard headed. He had a temper. When he got mad, which was often at me (I was a very challenging teen) his face would turn red and you thought his eyes might bug out of his head (a trait, if you ask my daughter, I think I may have inherited).  But Dad was also the most sensitive person I knew. And when I say sensitive, I mean it - Dad was and still is the only guy I know that cried during Hallmark commercials. He’d get emotional watching sitcoms, Disney movies and even the fluff pieces on the nightly news. Depending on which of my sisters and I were with him, we’d either sit in the room and pretend we didn’t notice or purposely and very loudly call him out on it – Dad are you crying?!? (usually Kristin)

Dad was never into sports – never really followed NCAA, professional football, basketball, baseball- and never watched it on TV. Once when I asked him why, he told me that he stopped watching because he would get too excited, too emotional when games were on. As my sisters and I advanced in competitive sports we quickly learned exactly what he was talking about. Everyone in our school district, conference and possibly Northwest Indiana knew Dad (Mr. Puller to them) as the proud parent who would bellow “Defense, Defense”, at our basketball games, followed by a bark only the Arsenio Hall show could rival.

As many of you know, I have two sisters so Dad grew up in a house of girls. But we were never really the girly girls. In fact, because of Dad, we were probably the only girls in town who knew that Captain Kirk and Spaak called the Starship Enterprise home, the only girls who knew almost every single Star Wars Character, and I know I was the only girl I knew with the Indiana Jones theme song as my ringtone, which thoroughly impressed my husband then-boyfriend.

Dad loved music. Growing up, the oldies station was the only station allowed in the car when he was driving. Dad would say “yeah man” as he bopped his head and tapped his foot. He was also a whistler. A good whistler. A loud whistler. Most often he would whistle while in the shower – Greensleeves was his favorite - and because the bathroom was near the living room, I would just roll my eyes and have to turn up the TV so I could hear what I was watching.

Dad loved to eat. He loved grandma’s German chocolate cake, her cherry winks and anything else cherry – cherry shakes, cherry pie. Visits to Steak & Shake were a family tradition. And at one point Dad’s belly was so robust he could actually use it as a table to hold his cookies so he could pick one up and dip it in his glass of milk.

Although not a hunter or avid fisherman, Dad loved the outdoors. He tried to fish (not very successfully) at my grandparents cabin in Michigan. He loved to camp and travel and he was handy, so much so that when I was a teenager he was able to remove the door to my room in about 30 seconds (did I mention I was a challenging teen?). Dad knew everything about anything.  A jack of all trades.  He built the dock at our grandparents cabin, he was always working on do-it-yourself projects and was always the first person you called for advice on a broken sink or a clunky noise in the car

Dad was a giver and a jokester, which made a dangerous combination. Our yearly monetary Christmas gift was always given to us in a uniquely funny way. He’d drill holes in Styrofoam and stuff they money into the holes, hide the money between two 2x4s nailed together, or present the complete $150 in loose quarters. And at Christmas he’d fill our stockings with toy guns, hand-held pinball games and slingshots. And as we’d play, he’d promptly and correctly guess the contents all of his presents, still wrapped in the package – a trait my grandmother also had, but none of us have yet to master.

Dad always made sure we were taken care of, not just with physical things – clothes, food, money, but with life experiences. One of the most vivid memories I have of Dad is when I first started to drive. One hot summer day, while he sat on the front porch with a nice ice-cold drink, I was taught how to rotate my tires, learn-as-you-go style via the boisterous director (Dad) on the front porch.

Although frugal and smart with his money, he was very generous and fair. He tried to teach us right from wrong. He wanted to make sure we intelligent and well equipped to take on the world. When I had my first daughter Anabelle, who is now almost 5, Dad had written me a letter, maybe only the second letter I had ever gotten from him, and in it was the best advice I’ve received so far. He told me - It’s not your job to give your kids everything they WANT, it’s your job to provide them what they need. It’s Papaws job to give them everything they want.

 I’d like to end with a poem I found that sums up the way I’ve been feeling.

Life Lessons

You may have thought I didn't see,
Or that I hadn't heard,
Life lessons that you taught to me,
But I got every word.

Perhaps you thought I missed it all,
And that we'd grow apart,
But Dad, I picked up everything,
It's written on my heart.

Without you, Dad, I wouldn't be
The (woman) I am today;
You built a strong foundation
No one can take away.
I've grown up with your values,
And I'm very glad I did;
So here's to you, dear father,
From your forever grateful kid.