Dad…One of a Kind

Oh how I miss him so.

Dad’s Eulogy – I wrote and then read my Dad’s eulogy. Writing it, and re-reading it periodically continues to be therapeutic for me as I face all the stages of grief, which by the way, appear when I least expect them. As I was re-reading it to myself today, I decided I wanted to share what a wonderful person he was with the public.

February 27, 2024, St. Dennis Church, Hopewell Jct, NY. 12533

Dad…One of a kind!

As I look around the church, I see a room full of people who have their own Vince stories – and if you are blessed enough to have your own Vince story, you’ll know what I mean when I say you always wanted to have him on your side.

Dad was a devoted husband to mom, the love of his life. He loved our immediate and extended family, and his many dear friends. He went out of his way to work really hard for our family, and helped us with whatever he could whenever we asked. He adored his grandchildren – Christopher, Stefanie, Vincent and Raymond. And in later years, he loved to hear the stories about and watch the antics of his great-grandchildren, Maddie, Logan, Eli, Lily, Peyton, Otto, and Cole. Dad loved his son-in-laws, too – Bruce and his cooking, and Howard and his chickens and gardens.

His quick wit, humor, sarcastic tongue, and funny stories were unmatched. Dad was God fearing and respecting, honest, trustworthy, loyal, rational – a man of high integrity. He had the unique ability to have a consistent overall demeanor of being calm and gentle, and at the same time having a big presence, wherever he was.

He had his ‘only him’ way of putting a comical spin to his different philosophies on life. About the medical field, he’d say, “I’m not going to another doctor. Every time you go, they always find something wrong that keeps you going back. So why start!?”

If you did business with dad, even if it was him being the patient in a doctors office, he made you work. He appreciated people more when they could talk and share things about daily life. It was important for him to have person-to-person connections. When he first met one of his recent doctors, he wasn’t a fan. He came out of the office humorously commenting, “I feel like I just went through my first year at medical school. I don’t really like him. I’m not going back.” During the second, persuaded visit, Dad started chatting with the doctor about mowing his lawn. Well, low-and-behold, the doctor also loved to mow his lawn. The conversation veered toward collecting and rebuilding old cars and trucks. The doctor also had a car he was rebuilding. Then all of a sudden they were sharing ideas of how to cook the Thanksgiving turkey. After that, the doctor was okay in dad’s eyes. Dad was even caught admitting on his own, “I’m kinda enjoying my trips to see him.” That’s just one tiny, recent story about the life-long lessons we learned from him – this one was people usually just want a human, common connection, and then they can get down to business.

Dad was always respected for being a problem solver in the most logical, pragmatic, and positive of ways. He liked things to be done efficiently – done right the first time.You could count on him for help or advice with most anything in life. Sometimes his help was solicited, and sometimes it wasn’t. If he saw something wrong or that he didn’t approve of, he’d often comment right away. But, then that was that, and the conversation would move forward One of my favorites of dad’s many sayings was when he stated, in that logical tone, you know – you can picture it – with his hands slightly raised in the air, with his head moving slightly while looking you straight in the eyes, questioning, “Why are you doing it that way? You might be better off to…” and he’d then go into a quick detail of how to work through most any situation, be it mechanical, anything to do with a home, a business, property, political issues; he was usually spot on.

We’ve heard many stories over the years, and actually to this day we are still hearing about Dad quietly helping others in need. He had a huge heart, especially if he knew you needed help or were in pain. He didn’t need recognition for those good deeds, he just quietly did them and moved on in his day. He respected hard workers, and honest, kind people.That’s the kind of person he was.

From the age of 16, Dad belonged to the Beekman Fire Department; a lifetime member. He really enjoyed his time there serving the community, and the social life that came along with it. He held almost all of the officer positions,and lastly was a commissioner for a number of years. He was one of the main members who was instrumental in getting the current fire house built years ago. You could hear his pride whenever he spoke about belonging to that wonderful organization.

Dad was a model of working hard and playing hard. He and mom shared an awesome life together. They worked as a team, from when they were teenagers and for 67 years – 2 years dating and 65 married. They worked together with all that they did, always running thoughts and opinions by each other. They were each part of running successful businesses. Sometimes life was not at all easy for them, yet they persevered and were able to make do in a pinch. As years passed, they were very blessed to be able to reap the rewards from their hard work.

In the late 50’s and early 60’s, Dad was Franklin D. Roosevelt Jr’s farm manager, on his Clove Creek Farm in Poughquag. A perk of the job was being able to live in a farm-hand house on the property. So dad had a first hand, daily view of the life of the Roosevelts. He was full of funny and interesting stories about them and their many guest’s comings and goings. He even met Jacki O. there.

In 1965, Dad left his Clove Creek Farm manager job to start his own construction company.

That’s when he and a couple of partners started Clove Excavators – with just a backhoe. He worked unbelievably hard for about 45 years, growing that business into a fine success often with 40 – 50 employees, and so many pieces of huge equipment – backhoes, loaders, excavators, graders, dump trucks – 10 and 18 wheelers, bulldozers, pavers, compactors, and so much more. I listed these because dad was able to buy, operate, repair or rebuild all of these different types of equipment. That’s amazing!

Clove Excavators built roads, bridges, worked with developers, businesses, and municipalities. He made thousands of connections with people from all walks of life, all over the Hudson Valley, in Dutchess, Westchester, Putnam, Orange, and Ulster Counties. He had a bent for knowing exactly what to do at a construction site. On the rare occasion he didn’t have an answer, he was not too proud to seek the advice of a trusted resource. Wendy, Darrell, Christopher, Stefanie, and I each had the opportunity of working for him at Clove Excavators in different roles at different times over the years. I worked in his office during high school summers – and I got to see first hand all that he did, all that he knew, and all that he handled. He was smart and great at it; a perfect model of how someone can be super successful in a trade.

When dad started Clove Excavators, we moved from the farm-hand house on the Roosevelt property to the beautiful 1804 colonial on Gardner Hollow Road. Dad’s home and property became his pride and joy. After long hard days at work, he’d come home and work just as hard perfecting his garden and mowing his lawn. Over time, the garden phased out, but he upped his lawn-mowing game when he eventually purchased his John Deere Zero Turn. He had a specific height and a specific direction he wanted every blade of grass to be, even if that meant lightly trimming the grass, every day to achieve perfection. Mowing the lawn was a great source of relaxation for him.

Over the years Dad could also be found updating, improving or rebuilding parts of the house or his barns. He loved tinkering with most anything you can find in a garage. He especially loved rebuilding his collection of tractors and his antique autos -the model A was one of his first proudest rebuilds. We lost count of how many tractors and cars he bought, sold, and traded. He cherished his time with anything that had a steering wheel, tires and a motor!

Dad loved our hobby farm – he proudly shared his knowledge with Wendy, Darrell and I while raising our 4-H steers. He was awesome at helping us not only because of his work on the Roosevelt farm, but also because he too had been a member of the Dutchess County 4-H Beef Club when he was kid. I remember many muddy spring visits during the 70’s, when we’d hop into his pickup truck and go for our annual Polled Hereford steer shopping trip. The well-rounded life lessons we learned because of him sharing his farming expertise with us – immeasurable.

Our home grown steers also played to his favor, as anyone who knew him knew he was a stickler for fine prime-prime red meat. Along with the beef, his chickens and their eggs, and his pigs with their pork chops and bacon, all made for an annual freezer full of healthy food. He loved the huge garden that he and mom used to plant in the side yard, and was so proud of mom when she used to can and freeze nearly all of our basic vegetables for the year. He had a hankering for eating healthy food, which mom always had ready for him. He loved her cooking. That’s not to say he didn’t enjoy his Wise potato chips, his Breyers Vanilla Bean ice cream, or a piece of chocolate, but his meals had to be healthy.

Another favorite of Dad’s was our many years of snowmobiling. He had so many friends who used to ride together through the fields, all over town. Our yard connected the fields from one part of town to the other. Dad had such fun when the group would gather in the backyard, and share their tales of surviving the bonfires and cookouts up on the mountain, or stories of who had trouble going up or down horseback hill. We even went on long weekend snowmobiling adventures up north – sometimes to Old Forge, sometimes to Lake Luzerne. Dad was always happy at full throttle on his black Arctic Cat Panther.

When we reminisce about our snowmobiling days, we can’t leave out the topic of Dad’s much sought after homemade hard cider. But at the same time – let’s just leave that topic right here. If you know you know on this one!

Dad loved our decades of annual two-week family vacations to the Daytona 500, and side trips to Disney World. For decades he held eight annual seats for the race. We learned our enjoyment for NASCAR stock car racing because he loved it. Back then, Dad’s all time favorite driver was the king, Richard Petty. Don’t you remember Dad wearing his Richard Petty black cowboy hat and black glasses?

Dad and Mom were pros at throwing parties, including backyard clambakes, picnics, and Kentucky Derby dinners. But a couple of their parties stand out as over the top:
- In 2004, their house turned 200 years old. So they threw the house a birthday party.They planned for well over a year to have an open house to share their piece of history with hundreds of people from around the Hudson Valley.
- In 2009, to celebrate their 50th anniversary, they booked a block of rooms at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal for immediate family and close friends. We all traveled together, almost filling an Amtrak car, from Poughkeepsie to the station underneath the Queen Elizabeth Hotel. We spent a long weekend sightseeing, eating, and celebrating their 50 years.

Dad was always happy when he and mom were entertaining.

Dad and mom shared many trips around the world. They took Amtrak trips back and forth across the United States, an Alaskan cruise, a longboat cruise down the Rhine River, a cruise through the Panama Canal, they visited Scotland, and flew St. Martin a couple of times. They loved these travels – but their favorite was Ireland, which is why they visited there four times. They could talk for hours about how much and why they loved Ireland.

After returning from their trips, Dad was most happy when he had an audience to share his stories about the people they met, all that they did, saw, ate, and drank. Sometimes they traveled just the two of them, but more often than not, they shared those trips with dear relatives and friends. He adored their decades of wintering at the LaCasta in Pompano, Florida, and all of their friendships they formed there. While in the south, he’d love to hear from us in the north about our snow storms and cold temperatures. He was happier than anything to say, “Well, it’s sunny, about 75 here, and the ocean looks calm today.” LaCosta isn’t going to be the same without Dad there in the winter.

In more recent years, during good weather when mom and dad weren’t out of town, you could find them, nearly every afternoon, both freshly showered, fluffed and buffed, sitting on their beautiful front porch “pre-gaming” with their four o’clock cocktails, just watching the traffic go by. Dad got such a kick out of the many people who drove by that he didn’t know, yet who all waved and beeped at him. When he had to miss an afternoon on the porch, often people would reach out to us to make sure everything was okay. I can’t count the number of times over the years that when former colleagues of mine, or even strangers, learned where we grew up, they knew the landmark – the big pretty white house on the sharp turn, in the late afternoon, with the two people sitting on the front porch waving. Even a few weeks ago, one of the sweet nurses who took care of dad said, “Oh, that’s where you live?! Every time we drive by there, I tell my husband I want to sit on a porch just like they do and watch the world go by.” Dad loved his self-assigned job of bringing joy and smiles to passers-by, from his front porch

Wendy, Darrell and I learned at very young ages that dad was 99.9 % right with most anything he said, and that if you listened closely to him, and followed his lead, you’d be on the right track. This was him right up through his more recent tough days when he wasn’t feeling well. I’ll leave those stories out, because even though he enjoyed being the center of attention with sharing a good story and laughing with everyone, he really was also a private person. Private, proud, strong, and stoic…a definite member of the teflon generation.

We could talk all day with each of you, and we could create a Netflix series from all of dad’s interesting, fun, and some unbelievable life experiences. For now, in honor of him, I’ll share his favorite afternoon routine and cocktail recipe.

After your chores are done, and just before you go to take your late afternoon shower,
Get out two little 6 oz canning jars to use as your drinking glasses.
In each jar pour one jigger of vermouth and two jiggers of vodka –
- That is – Martini Extra Dry Vermouth, and Svedka Vodka
Line up the two glasses, one behind the other, on the top shelf in the fridge to chill.
Head upstairs to freshen up.
After you’re done with your shower and have the handsome smell of Old English cologne on, head back downstairs, straight to the fridge.
Take out one of the jars and fill it to the rim with ice.
At this point, decide whether you want to add a drop of worcester sauce – depending on your mood (Sidebar – True story this was a recommendation made to him by his heart doctor!).
Pick up your drink, head to the front porch.
Sit and enjoy the world passing by, while listening to your Irish music on the little, yellow, old fashioned portable radio. (Although he did recently upgrade to an Alexa speaker.)
When you’ve finished your first cocktail, look next to you and say, “Shirl, are you going in for another cocktail?”
Be sassed by Shirl, often about being cute or handsome, then wait a few minutes until she returns from the kitchen with your second of their pre-game cocktails, and maybe some crackers, cheese, or chips.
Between cocktails, it’s recommended, not mandatory, to take a pinch of Copenhagen.
Take your time to finish the second cocktail.
Then close up camp on the front porch and head inside.
While Shirl prepares dinner, sit at the kitchen table to watch your favorite Fox Five News, and simultaneously scroll through the internet on your laptop to find out what was new with any favorite topics such as local or national news, Rush Limbaugh, politics, vehicle auctions, trains, and anything history.

We’ll “See you in Chicago;” We’ll “See you in the funny papers;” and “Don’t take any wooden nickels, Dad!”

perspectives2ponder

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