While most of you knew Allen to be generous, kind and funny, what you might not know was that he was a prolific writer. The following is an excerpt from a letter he wrote to Katherine: 

I got up with your brother Jeff this morning to throw the newspapers. Both mother and I had got up at four because it started to rain. The deliveryman had left the papers in front of the house and it looked like they were beginning to get wet. I put on my raincoat and brought them inside. Got soaked. Came back to bed and went to sleep. At 4:45 Jeff came in and stood beside the bed to let me know that if I wanted to go deliver papers with him - he was ready. I was sleepy as all get out. It takes a lot longer on mornings like these when you think it could rain again to get the papers up in a dry spot. I about went ape – Jeff would walk up to the door – try to balance the paper on the doorknob and spend thirty seconds playing with each one. I finally got him to just put them on the stoop in front of the doors, but for some reason or other it would be like a work of art getting each one just right. Where there were porches, I’ll have to say his aim was great. Knocked over the cat food bowl at a house on Centerwood where they have about five cats. He got a honk out of that. He is cute in the morning – sometimes he’ll just be skipping along and jump in the air and click his heals together for the heck of it. No one to show off to – just feeling good.

When Dad wrote that letter he didn’t realize that for the next six years one or the other of his sons would have a newspaper route. Nor did his sons realize that their father would not only drive them on Sunday mornings when the papers were heaviest, but that for those six years he’d get up with them every day of the week to help them fold the papers. Back then a lot of our friends had newspaper routes, but it was rare that one of their parents got up on Sundays to help them, much less the weekdays. So at a young age I learned that love can express itself with selflessness. 

It was during those newspaper years that a friend of mine and I got into mischief. Not really bad mischief, but serious enough that one night we were picked up by the police. The foolhardiness of our actions was probably more amusing to the officers than the criminal intent, so rather than take us downtown to the police station, the officers were kind enough to take us home. I’ll never forget having to go to my parent’s bedside in the wee hours of the morning and wake up Dad by whispering, “Dad, there is a police officer outside who wants to speak with you.” His immediate response was, “Was anyone hurt?”

Throughout our teenage years my siblings and I had more than our fair share of car accidents. Of course we would have to call Dad to tell him about each mishap and inevitably his first response would be, “Was anyone hurt?” While some parents might be upset with their children’s recklessness, our father never expressed anger. Nor did he when the police officers needed to have a word with him that night. His unspoken disappointment was enough for us to strive to do better. His admonishments would have only muddled our resolve. So it was that I learned that love can express itself with patience and understanding.

One of Dad’s goals in life was to pay for his children’s college educations. He worked hard for many years, including most Saturday mornings, and was blessed to achieve this goal. So it was a major disappointment to him when Phillip dropped out of college. It didn’t help matters when Phillip requested the balance of his college education trust fund be used to build a brick oven and start a bread baking business. For our father who valued education so highly and who had worked hard to provide it for his children, this request was the antithesis of the dreams he had for his child. And, probably better than anyone, he knew the likelihood that this was going to be a costly, yet passing fad for his son. Many, if not most, parents would have taken the “I know better than you” attitude and not released the money. Not Dad. He relinquished the funds and the business enterprise took off. What happened to the business isn’t nearly as important as the lesson that, regardless how painful it might be, Dad put his faith in his children and supported their dreams and ambitions.

Both Mom and Dad exposed my siblings and I to the world at large by participating in a high school exchange program called AFS. This process started by our hosting a high school student from France and eventually resulted in all five children living abroad at some point in our lives. Every Sunday night while one of us was on distant shores, Dad would sit down in the den at an old IBM typewriter and write us letters. A typical letter averaged 6-10 pages and they never failed to take us back home for a few special moments. This was long before email, and we survived on his letters.  At the time Dad wrote the excerpt I’m about to read Phillip would have been 9 and Jeff 13.  

Last Saturday night I picked up Jeff and his friend Nancy at the movie theater and was rushing to get her home so Mom and I could go to the symphony and take the new neighbors the Dyers who moved into the Bass house. It was nip and tuck but just as we were at the turn off to Nancy’s house Jeff said, “Uh dad, uh Nancy will come over to our house because her family is going out to dinner”. WELLLL we had planned to leave Jeff at home and take Phil to the concert. Phil hadn’t wanted to go – and we were pressing him because we want him to get a little more couth – NOW it seemed like it might be smart to leave Phillip at home after all. Phillip during this time had been across the street at Harry Mehlburger’s birthday party where they had a giant came of chase going on. Mom had planned to call him in at the last minute sponge him off, stick him in some clean clothes and wrestle him down to the concert. When I brought Nancy and Jeff in with the announcement that she would stay here with Jeff while her folks were out, Mom’s eyes got big and cute looking and we said in unison that this would be fine and that Phil could stay home with them. About this time Phil comes running up the drive from the party. We told him that he didn’t have to go to the concert after all and wouldn’t you know it – he said that he’d changed his mind and wanted to go – he could shower in one minute and get dressed in the car. I started to laugh and Mom threw up her hands as if to say, “You can’t win them all”. Jeff at this time did the first humanitarian thing he’d done for Phil in about two months - he said “I’ll help get him ready”. Now how is this for brotherhood?

Selflessness, patience, understanding, and faith in others are just some of the lessons I learned from Allen. But the most important lesson my siblings and I learned is how important it is to express love and affection every day. Even in the chaos of getting five kids off to school, every morning Dad would hug Mom and tell her how much he loved her. Not a peck on the check while trotting out the door, but a full embrace. Heartfelt words spoken with tenderness because his love for her was as pure and true as love can be. He expressed his love for us, his children, with equal abandon. And he expressed it to everyone in this sanctuary in one form or another. And the lesson he taught us all: if you love others with all your soul and all your heart and all your might then …. Well this lesson is self-evident - Just look around this sanctuary …. the lesson is all around you.