Ronda’s Eulogy for her Dad

Eulogy for my Dad, Gilbert Garber
Ronda Garber Jacobson
May 25, 2007


My Dad would tell me to start with a joke, to warm up the crowd. I should intermingle a few humorous comments, another joke, and end with a motivational message. While we video-taped him telling some of his favorite jokes, he didn’t want us to tape him telling some of his best. He didn’t want to be remembered as a dirty old man.

He was the youngest of five children – a blued eyed boy with golden curls. His father suffered from heart disease starting when my dad was about 7, and he died when my dad was an adolescent. My dad had happy memories of his father, and difficult memories from his family’s financial struggles thereafter. He always told us, he didn’t know how to be the father of children beyond their early teens –kids don’t come with a manual and he had no role model past that point.

As a child of the depression, he respected hard work as well as material objects. He couldn’t understand purchasing something new, if a repair was possible. His first job, at age 7, was selling magazines – and over the years he perfected his salesmanship. He didn’t want to turn his friends into clients. He wanted his clients to become his friends.

He taught famous people to drive, and was welcomed as a member of many groups, clubs, and associations as he planned congress and convention travel. He mentored many -- driving instructors, travel agents, young people who sought his counsel, and, of course, his children.

He was a great protector. He offered his children a dime to carry with us always – just in case we felt unsafe and needed him to come get us –anytime, from anywhere. He actually kept up with inflation, increasing the coinage as necessary.

I learned so much from my Dad. He gave excellent advice, and always had my best interest in mind. He was a focused listener, and never forgot a word said. In fact, he held us accountable for every thought we’d ever shared.

My Dad was an honest man, as honest with others as with himself. He could be so outspoken as to be thought judgmental – but he was almost always right, ‘though it sometimes took years for others to come to the same conclusion.

I remember that my dad was very upset with my sister for allowing a Hebrew School carpool to tear the roof of my mother’s Thunderbird convertible, a car that was returned to Garber Leasing Company at the end of a contract. My sister had no knowledge of how or when it could have happened. Weeks later he came home from work and gathered the family in the kitchen. He stood on a chair and hung his head. He had met the former leaser of the car, and the man had told him that he’d loved the car, but turned it in because of the tear in the roof. My father ate crow very well.

He was my most trusted advisor – he had only my best interests in mind, he worked with me to achieve my goals, and he believed in my strengths and could not see or accept my weaknesses. He took pride in my accomplishments, and only complained that I "took on too much."

So many of my strengths I learned from him.

He made fun of what a planner I am, but as a travel agent, organizing excursions for hundreds of travelers, he knew how to create and implement complex arrangements. He was a teacher, and a life-long learner. His family had to teach him to articulate his expectations for family vacations – but what vacations and celebrations we have shared. We’ve danced and laughed and enjoyed being together.

He marveled at my skill with computers, but even toward the end of his days, he was still learning from our “adopted brother David” how to use any number of software programs on his new Mac.

He delighted in my meaningful friendships, and became friends with my friends, all of whom expressed their appreciation and love of my parents. He once told me that all my close friends had mishegas. I explained that that works fine for me, since I have more than a bit of mishegas myself. He declared that he had No Mishegas – to which I responded, “And that, Dad, is your mishugas.”

He was a Lion and a Mason, and a member of Club 62 of the Knights of Columbus. He worked for his synagogue, his Town, his condominium communities in Lexington and in New Hampshire. He brought in environmentally sound energy and water use. When geese inundated the Pond at Potter Pond, he had fountains installed to discourage their nesting. His last project, yet unfinished, was the planning for windmills for electrical generation at Potter Pond.

My Dad was not quite dapper, but a stylish and careful dresser. As a kid, I often accompanied him for his shave, haircut and manicure at the Statler Hilton downtown. He and my mom cut a handsome figure on the dance floor. I could never quite keep my feet out from under his when we danced, but he never gave up on me.

He was a delight to watch on the tennis court, but watch out for that serve. He played a mean game, and was always out to win! He was a sly Scrabble player and enjoyed astonishing and frustrating his opponent with a last-minute 7-letter word after clogging up the board with a very tight game.

My dad made friends everywhere – and frustrated that so much of his time in his last years was spent going to doctor appointments, he charmed so many on his outstanding team at Brigham & Women’s and Dana Farber. Dr. Jerome Ritchie guided him and encouraged him over more than 15 years. Dr. James Kirshenbaum with Kathleen Kilrain kept his heart from breaking. Dr. Julian Seifter and Dr. Nidyanandh Vadivel managed his kidney disease. Dr. Elliot Israel fit him into his busy schedule to help us with his lung issues. Oncologist Dr. Oliver Sartor became so dear to us. Nurse practitioner Laurie Appleby meant the world to my dad. Every visit began with a hug, and ended with a kiss. We cannot thank Laurie enough for her competent loving care. The 11th floor reception committee – Coach Chris Clancy, Tanya and the others -- greeted us with a smile and the warmest of welcomes. The 10th floor infusion nurses made him feel loved, admired and cared for in a very special way.

As we wended our way through the medical system, Mum, Dad and I formed a team. My sister and brother, and all the grandchildren were valued members, but we were the core. My dad was a great captain.

He believed that as we age we become more and more of what we had been as younger people. If one is cranky, he'll become crankier. If one is demanding, that too will increase. I learned that my dad was sweet. As he became older and increasingly ill, he became softer and sweeter, and more and more loving.

My dad, who lost his dad, brother, sister and nephews at young ages, recognized that he had lived a full, interesting, rich life. He had married his childhood sweetheart, and was as much in love with her on his last day as he was when he jumped a hedge at age 13, just to impress her.

He said, “Every day is a blessing.” May all your days be a blessing. May we learn the lessons you taught us well. We understand that Mum will have to carry the ball, and the full team goes forth. We’ll miss our quarterback, star pitcher, and beloved Dad.