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Note: At Roger's funeral service the speakers were: son, Doug Jamieson, here is what he had to say:
"And now for something completely different!" For those of you who know "Monty Python", you�ll recognize those words. My dad loved Monty Python. He appreciated all kinds of comedians. From Jackie Gleason to Steve Martin. From Johnny Carson to Bill Murray. His top 10 movie list is basically a compilation of Mel Brooks films, for to him Mel Brooks was a comic genius. Dad once said that the campfire scene in "Blazing Saddles" was by itself worthy of an Oscar nomination.
My Dad had great nicknames for people and things. Ruth Erickson - Nancy nicely
SY Valley News- Valley Astonisher
Jay�s boys- The piranha brothers
Mom - Bet, Kid or Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy
We are blessed and grateful that dad was cared for by Betty up to his last breath. Mom, your care, love and compassion for dad the last nine months was, well, there are no words to describe it. We should all be so lucky when our days come to an end. We love you and thank you. And we know how you�ll miss your husband, your best friend, your companion.
In the movie. Field of Dreams, baseball is described as follows: "The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. Its been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game is a part of our past; it reminds us of all that once was good and could be again."
For my Dad, baseball was that...and much more. When Mom and Dad went to Arizona for the Giant�s spring training one year, he was interviewed in the stands, by the local Scottsdale newspaper. He was quoted as saying his earliest childhood memory was when he was 5 years old at Yankee Stadium. His Uncle Chuck was in town playing against the Yankees. Charlie Jamieson played 16 years for the Cleveland Indians. Uncle Chuck came over and picked Dad out of the stands and carried him across the diamond to meet one of the Yankee players. That player was Babe Ruth.
So baseball became a passion for dad. He didn�t get to play much on his high school team or during his first 2 years at Muhlenberg College. But when he was finally given the chance to start at second base his junior year, he never looked back. He got to play after the war in Paterson with a couple of semi pro teams into his 30�s.
While in the Marine Corps, he was asked to play 2nd base for the Marine Corps baseball team. This would allow him to avoid any fighting and live out his days in the Corps traveling from here to there, playing baseball against other service teams & semi pro teams. My Dad said no, that wasn�t the reason he joined the Marine Corps.
Dad played catch with Dave, Jay and me. He taught us how to play baseball, but he also taught us about the game of baseball which he loved so passionately. Baseball offered up some simple life lessons as well:
Sometime you don�t get the call you deserve - but the game goes on.
Suit up and show up...I cannot remember my Dad ever being home sick from work�.
I think my dad liked the rules of baseball. They were straight forward and clear cut. And that was how Dad lived his life.
Dad coached Little League teams both in New Jersey and here in the valley. In New Jersey, there�s a story about a playoff game he coached where one of his players hit a long fly ball out of the park that was ruled foul by the umpire. My Dad called time out and, with his hands tucked into his back pockets, approached the plate ump, just a 16 year old kid. When the opposing coach ran out to make sure my Dad wasn�t going to bully or berate the kid, my Dad simply held up one hand and said, I just wanted to ask him if he understood the rule that it didn�t matter if the ball curved "foul" after it left the park, that as long as it was fair when it went over the fence, it should be a home run. The kid said that indeed he knew that rule.
Dad went up to his batter and said, "Do it again." And he did. In fact, as legend has it, it was an exact replay of the previous ball hit. The ump ruled it a home run.
When we got to California and the SY Valley, Dad again volunteered to coach Little League. The league asked him to take a couple of boys that, well, no one seemed to be able to control or manage. You see, Tom and Sam Johnson had lost their Dad in a car accident a few years earlier and it was a little rough at the Johnson house. My Dad said no problem.
And as it turned out, it was no problem. It was actually the beginning of a lifelong friendship with the Johnson family. In fact, Dad requested that Marge sing today--we were a little concerned about giving a microphone to Marge with a captive audience--but that�s OK--We love you Marge and you were OK in Rog�s book.
To be "OK" in Rog�s book was the highest form of compliment from my Dad. He had a special way with words--An afternoon of swimming and eating at Rog & Bet�s house on 3084 Country Rd., was called having a "swim out". We all miss those. When he asked for the salt and pepper at the dinner table it was " Pass the peppy poo please".
In 1987 & 1989, Connie, Betty, Rog and I got to share the excitement of Giants playoff baseball in San Francisco. After one particularly great game, the four of us found ourselves sharing a single hotel room with 2 beds. As we talked into the night about the game, Dad popped out of bed to demonstrate for us how Robbie Thompson, gloved a grounder and threw someone out at first. There he was, crouched between the 2 beds in his boxers and a T shirt when, from the far side of his bed, we heard Betty�s voice," Rog, go to sleep." He giggled and jumped back into bed.
In 2002, I got to take my Dad to a World Series game. The Giants didn�t win that day, but that didn�t matter. It was a great day. In fact, I think being at the ballpark was, for my Dad, like a little bit of heaven on earth. And sometimes it didn�t matter if the Giants won or lost, unless they were playing the Dodgers.
When spring training came around this year, I think we all realized this would probably be Dad�s last season. And in the game of life, when Rog got to the ninth inning, and we realized there would probably be no last minute heroics or miracle home runs, my Dad stoically and humbly accepted his fate. With that in mind, I gain comfort knowing the following:
If there is such a thing as God�s "Universal All Star Team", there surely is a spot open for a sure handed, slap hitting, speedy 2nd baseman, a Marine, a great father and husband, a man who always seemed to say and more importantly, to do the Right Thing.
I LOVE YOU AND I MISS YOU DAD!!!
Son, Jay Jamieson also spoke these words:
It is good to be home again with family and friends here in this sanctuary. I
can recall many good memories here. Today, in many ways, is a sad day. We
have to say good bye for now to a dear one, our family's patriarch: husband,
father, uncle, geat uncle, grandfather ,great grandfather and friend.
But today is a joyful day as we reflect on our Dad as a wonderful man who lived a full life. We thank God for giving him to us.
We are blessed to say he loved us.
Dad displayed many virtues that he lived out quietly every day and I could
speak about all of them: Self discipline, compassion, responsibility,
friendship, loyalty, work ethic, honesty, perseverance and always faithful
Semper Fidelis.
All of this with a humility and an optimism and a sense of humor. He modeled these virtues not by preaching but by living them out
daily.
Dad's legacy lives on in his children and grandchildren. We are, after all,
"Chips off the Old Block".
Lynn: Last Word Louise- driven work ethic, love of writing and fiercely
loyal to her family. If one of our family were under attack, Lynn would
always be there to our aid.
Dave: Big Red-Bats L and throws R, by far the best baseball player of the
three brothers, a Marine and politically conservative.
Doug: Dugo- the consummate SF Giants fan, scrappy business negotiator,
prolific reader. And he, like me, inherited Dad's ineptitude with tools and
home repairs.
Me: Last Word Louie: Difficult to judge myself: a bureaucratic
Administrator, frugal and hey, somebody had to inherit Dad's good looks
and wit.
But the one virtue I would like to focus on was Dad's courage. I never met a
braver man. He never backed down when a wrong needed to be confronted
by right. He had the gift of discernment in choosing the battle and defining
the battle lines.
If we, his children, found ourselves in a scrape, he would want the facts
straight from us. We would receive a reckoning talk and then he would be
our greatest advocate when we had to face the music, making sure the punishment met the crime.
He wasn't afraid of anything or anybody. He was the rock of our family:
feet firmly planted in the ground. When any of us were from time to time,
in sinking sand, there was Dad to help sort out the pieces, distill the issues,
and help set us straight again. Sometimes it came as a keen insight or a
word of encouragement. Sometimes all we needed was a swift boot in the
rear. But he was our constant encourager and protector.
I asked him once where that bravery came from. He told me, referring back
to his WWII experiences as Marine officer on Guam and Okinawa "Jay,
they already tried to kill me twice, what else can they do to me?"
And that was true. What else could life throw at him? The defining period
in our Dad's life was his WWII Marine Corps training and service in the
Pacific. The Corps took his raw talents and refined them and that defined
who Dad would be. The lessons learned would carry him for the next 62 plus years. Dad faced several battles in his life including WWII, his bout with polio,
raising teens in the 60s and 70s, the loss of a grandchild, Roger Douglas, and
finally his recent bout with cancer. Like a true Marine officer, he faced
these challenges without complaint, he stared the enemy straight in its face
like he did in battle on Sugar Loaf Hill on May 15, 1945, and marched forward bravely. He never shirked his duty. Dad suffered physical and emotional wounds from his WWII experiences.
He lost several men under his command on Sugar Loaf Hill. His beloved
cousin, David Leslie Dougherty, was killed in action on this very day June 15,
1944 attempting to land on Saipan with the 4th Marine Division. Dad didn't
dwell on these matters or complain. He did what the majority of the
Greatest Generation did. He came home from the war, got married, went to work, raised a family and served the community. In 1995, Dad revisited some old WWII battle sights and got some closure on the emotional battle wounds. On Guam, the governor held a luau in Dad's
honor and bestowed upon him Guamanian citizenship. On Saipan, he visited
the landing beach where his cousin died and he laid a wreath. The Governor
declared the day "David Leslie Dougherty Day". And Dad re-climbed Sugar
Loaf Hill; this time up a flight of stairs and a Marine Corps Band was playing
on top. He stood on the hill and shook hands with his former foe and now new
friend, Lt. Shizuo Uzumi , as they together held a Rising Sun Flag. And with his final battle with cancer, Dad made his peace with God.
He knew he was going to heaven. I did write him a letter in March and
among other things, I told him to look for 2 handsome young men who have
been patiently waiting for him at the Gates; his cousin David and his
grandson, Roger. What a joyous homecoming that must have been.
In summary, Dad was our hero. A hero for what he did in battle and more so
for what he did raising us . We will try to live up to his example, but that
is a lofty goal. Like the last line in Daniel Fogelberg's song, "Leader of the
Band" it says. "My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man, I'm just
a living legacy to the leader of the band." Good bye for now Pop. Happy Father's Day. Happy Birthday. We love you.
We will miss you every day. And for now we let you go into
God's most merciful hands until we see you again. Daughter Lynn spoke the following:
Dad died last week after a heroic battle with an unkind disease, and he has left a legacy for his wife, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, extended family, friends, and acquaintances impossible to duplicate but a challenge to emulate. During his illness, I found myself telling concerned colleagues and friends that he could have died in World War II or during his bout with polio, but from the time he was 31-85 he had very little in the way of illness, and for that we can be thankful. He lived a full and loving life, with a sense of humor that no one can describe.
There are so many things I could tell you about the life that Dad led, particularly his early years in New Jersey, where we were raised - 45 minutes from New York-such a drastic difference from the pastoral setting where we moved in 1965. Suffice it to say, that Dad came from humble beginnings with simple pleasures including a value of education, a love of the national pastime, and the value of family. He worked his way through college, and then became a hero in World World II, raised this family in unison with our Mom, and the rest is a legacy that will be carried out again and again with our large and growing family. I am, along with my brother David, more of the New Jersey connection to Dad, since David was a junior in high school when Dad made his drive across the country to California in my freshman year in college, and Jay and Doug were in elementary school. We saw Dad in several jobs including Chevy salesman, insurance, and contract administration.
I will focus on his honesty and integrity , his love of education, and his love for our family. Our Dad never took shortcuts where ethics were concerned. He exposed us to a scrupulously crafted honesty, and in doing so, expected us to be truthful, face the consequences of our actions, and set it right if we were wrong. By the same token, there was no one more ferocious when we were wronged - when we were growing up Dad would get to the bottom of a problem by talking to anyone who caused us a problem, checking out details, visit teachers, principals, school officials, neighbors, friends, strangers. If we got in trouble, he saw to it we dealt with the consequences.
In matters of money, he was frugal and created interesting ways for us to handle our allowances, jobs, and money matters. All of us were expected to save, we started with our first jobs (5/6 of everything I ever earned starting with babysitting went into the bank). This was no insignificant amount when it turned out that I could cover � of my college education in a private school. He also gave each grandchild a yearly allowance that consisted of a graduated amount per week ranging from 50 cents to $3.00 for school age children given annually with great and solemn ceremony. His requirement was that the children needed to stay in school, and he needed to be solvent. This was significant considering 11 grandchildren were recipients of his generosity.
Dad placed the highest value on education. He himself was a learned man, an avid reader, an English major who corrected our English at every misstep-just a month ago, he corrected two grammar errors I made. I found it fascinating that Dad appreciated the first sentence in major novels he read - and would quote them - my favorite was "Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were." In fact, we each have a part of his extensive book collection, James Michener, Larry McMurtry, Ian Fleming, etc.
To educate us further, Dad would also initiate funny projects that sometimes wouldn't fly - my favorite was in New Jersey on a Sunday afternoon when Dad introduced a new project for us to learn 10 spelling words per week - I even remember the first word - accolade- I think our whining and squirming only caused this to last one week. Another project was for us to be in charge of one aspect each of a trip to Washington DC when I was in high school - we each had a job and it turned out to be the best trip we took at that time - 6 of us seat belted into a 1960's Chevy Corvair travelling endless hours to our destination. Dad always started his project by saying - We're going to have fun!
In matters of love, Dad was the archetype of the father who came home every night, was faithful to our Mom, and involved in his family. When he walked in the door, we jumped on him and he asked for a few minutes-but we always knew he would be there and never wondered where he was. He was a dedicated family man and loved Mom with all his heart. Theirs has been an amazing marriage of love, partnership, friendship, trust, humor, common activities, and family projects. Sometimes, they played music and danced in the kitchen-other times they went out to shows and spent time with friends. Many times, there were family and friend gatherings at our house in NJ - barbeques and dinners - that graduated to pool gatherings and barbeques in Santa Ynez. This tradition continues with Dave and Joannie. We all have valued our visits to Mom and Dad in CA-they always had fun and time for all of us.
In many ways, theirs is a fantastic love story, starting as friendship in high school where both were at the top of their class (1 and 2, not sure which was which), and then a whirlwind courtship before Dad shipped out to the Pacific - an elopement upon his return, and 61+ years of marriage, give and take, a large family, satisfactory careers, and the best accomplishment of moving to Santa Ynez and living in California.
Dad also had great love for his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren - for our sons, he was a pal, a kind and funny man who could joke and make funny comments about the most mundane things - when Ben wanted a cheese sandwich and a chocolate milk for lunch it was "A cheese sandwich and a chocolate milk! - With Byron and school, there have been a dozen times when Dad and Mom shared a movie and meal in Santa Barbara with him and Dad liked talking about the movie they viewed and catching up with him in school. He always has seen the best in all of us and we have felt wonderful about it.
As for me, Dad and I were bonded together very early and unusually when we both contracted poliomyelitis in the early 50's, - mine was a mild form and Dad's was bulbar affecting his lungs. Both of us were in the hospital together for three-four weeks and then undertook 5 years of physical therapy. Dad referred to us as polio pals. Over the years, we would have long middle of the night conversations about everything under the sun. Other times, we could just sit in a room and not talk but totally understand each other. I found that it was hard to not be with Dad during the whole of his illness because of that early bond - it was absolutely essential that I could take part of the journey with him, but I knew that this time, I could not be in it for the long haul.
Dad, we will all miss you, and I will miss you greatly, but you are always in our hearts and minds for the way you cared and made each of us feel special and good. You can rest assured that your love and concern for each of us has provided a firm foundation for us to live the best of lives, and we will always define our behavior by the way you and Mom have raised us and cared for our children and others. Goodbye, Polio Pal.
Grandson, James Jamieson also spoke the following:
Walter Roger Jamieson
"Gramp"
Remembrances of our grandfather
There are many things that I can stand before you and say about our grandfather. Here are a few: Whether it was that little sign on the bunk-house door, "We do not swim in your toilet, so please don't pee in our pool"; to his great photogenic smile with the classic line "I AM SMILING!"; to educating all of the grandkids about "classic" American movies such as Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles; he always had a great sense of humor that has shown through to all his children and grandchildren alike.
One thing that I can really remember about Gramp was he was always supportive of all of us. He would show up at our baseball, football, hockey, basketball, and soccer games, our wrestling matches and dance and music recitals. Keep in mind sometimes traveling hours to do so, even going out of state to Oregon and Indiana.
Gramp had a whole allowance system set up for all of the grandkids. We would start at a quarter a week and progress up to a few dollars a week by the time we were in high school. I once asked him why he did this. His response, "Because you are my grandchild." That was enough to shut me up about why he gave us money every week. I think the reality of his system really caught up with him when ALL the Oregon kids were all on the allowance at the same time. Having to lug that box of coins all the way to Oregon just one time was enough for him to change the system to a "one lump sum" annually. I won't forget, that even after high school, even though I was too old to get an allowance from him, there was still the elbow nudge and a $ 20 dollar bill slipped to me, "Here's a little hamburger money."
Gramp and my dad started a little tradition that every Friday they would meet at the Red Barn for lunch. I would join them as often as my schedule would allow. He always had a bowl of clam chowder. "Hold the bacon! And could you warm up a little bread and bring some butter?" There were lots of great conversations over the clam chowder. Afterwards he would have a slice of warm berry pie with chocolate ice cream. When it came time to pay, dad and Gramp would rotate every week. For some reason I would show up when my dad had to pay. He swore that Gramp and I had some sort of "arrangement" for that to happen. It became quite the joke around the lunch table. The last time the three of us went to lunch I decided to throw a wrench into the gear box and pay for THEM. Boy, I thought they were both going to fall over in their chairs.
The last story that I have is one that all 11 grandkids can relate to: Gramp had a pool at the house on Country Road. He was meticulous about maintaining it for all of us to use. The one major flaw with the pool was just outside the chain-link fence was a walkway with Spanish Pebbles. And of course no one EVER threw those Spanish Pebbles into the pool! But, they always made it to the bottom somehow. Man, that made Gramp HOT! He would spend hours trying to figure out who had thrown the pebbles. I have some of those pebbles right now that I would like to give to my cousins and my sister, Sara. I would like to introduce all of you to Gramp's grandchildren and great grandchildren.
(Ask cousins to come up and hand out pebbles)
Roger Jamieson was the best grandfather that all of us could have had. We will miss him dearly. We love you Gramp.
(Add zinger)
By: James Jamieson, June 15th, 2007, SYV Presbyterian Church
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