Our father was so organized, and had so many of the details of this moment worked out before we got here, I think it only appropriate to let his words speak to us today. I’ve chosen some pieces of emails he wrote to a friend of his, Jim Herrick, who was kind enough to share these excerpts.
And he did study the past—not only did he look to his family—his parents and the grandparents he was fortunate to know—but he looked all the way back. Our father wanted to know who he really was, from where he really came. And he looked back and saw all the way to the Mayflower and saw that his blood came from some of our history’s boldest and bravest men and women. And from that survivor of the Mayflower, James Chilton, a daughter descendent married Rufus Herrick, by all accounts a hero of the Revolutionary War. As he did his research and pored through records and photos, he wrote this to his friend, Jim:
With this in mind, our father, upon locating and documenting many of our ancestors, has provided grave markers, giving them the respect and the honor they have deserved these last hundred years or more for the blood they shed for our freedom. Now, when you or others pass by, it will be known, “Here lies a good man. He was here, he was noticed, and he made a difference.” This very blood they shed ran through our father’s veins as it continues to run through ours. He was proud to be a part of this line of people who have played an important role in the shaping of this country. The rich heritage of American history that our father worked long and hard to bring to life for all of us stands as a legacy in which we all can take pride. But remember, our father was also a man of the present, and had this to say:
So today, along with the legacy of American history and heroism he has unearthed for us, he would want us to remember the humbleness in which he lived, his work ethic, his own personal history of a self-made man, his provision for his family, his compassion for animals. As we inter our father’s ashes today, and when we and others pass by his grave marker in the future, let it be known that, “Here lies a good man. He was here, he was noticed, and he made a difference.”
My 68 years isn't as long as my grandfather's, Robert Lansing Herrick, 94 years, or even Loren P Herrick's 82 years, but it is longer than my father's 53 years and my mother's 59 years. I have beat the system and survived to warranty expiration. Anything else is pure gaming of the system. As I study the past, I am constantly made aware of how fortunate I have been to have been born in the recent present.
And he did study the past—not only did he look to his family—his parents and the grandparents he was fortunate to know—but he looked all the way back. Our father wanted to know who he really was, from where he really came. And he looked back and saw all the way to the Mayflower and saw that his blood came from some of our history’s boldest and bravest men and women. And from that survivor of the Mayflower, James Chilton, a daughter descendent married Rufus Herrick, by all accounts a hero of the Revolutionary War. As he did his research and pored through records and photos, he wrote this to his friend, Jim:
It is really odd the transformations that occur to our beings as we travel through life. Most of my life, cemeteries gave me the willies and obituaries meant nothing to me. Now, a readily readable monument, even of one not even remotely related to me, gives me great satisfaction. Looking through the photos, it is readily apparent that marble does not wear all that well.
Granite, preferably black, is the only way to go.
He says: I'm gonna be buried in a National Cemetery. They always furnish you with a monument.
With this in mind, our father, upon locating and documenting many of our ancestors, has provided grave markers, giving them the respect and the honor they have deserved these last hundred years or more for the blood they shed for our freedom. Now, when you or others pass by, it will be known, “Here lies a good man. He was here, he was noticed, and he made a difference.” This very blood they shed ran through our father’s veins as it continues to run through ours. He was proud to be a part of this line of people who have played an important role in the shaping of this country. The rich heritage of American history that our father worked long and hard to bring to life for all of us stands as a legacy in which we all can take pride. But remember, our father was also a man of the present, and had this to say:
We are, either individually or collectively, the sum of our pasts. We all have unpleasant memories, but unless we can get through them, we are unable to live in the present and plan for the future. Hating the past only traps you there.
So today, along with the legacy of American history and heroism he has unearthed for us, he would want us to remember the humbleness in which he lived, his work ethic, his own personal history of a self-made man, his provision for his family, his compassion for animals. As we inter our father’s ashes today, and when we and others pass by his grave marker in the future, let it be known that, “Here lies a good man. He was here, he was noticed, and he made a difference.”
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