Goodbye...for now

This is a copy of the eulogy I gave at my father-in-laws funeral on August 18, 2014. He was/is a great man and we all miss him terribly. But at the same time, we are so happy to have known him.

How do you condense a life of 72 years into a 10 minute eulogy?

How do you capture the essence of a man, his life, feelings and accomplishments in such a short period of time?

I cannot, in this short time, paint an accurate picture of the man Danny was to someone who never knew him. But to you, his friends and family, I hope to be able to share stories and experiences that will stir memories in you, and that hopefully will bring a smile to your face. For in these trying circumstances, it’s the happy memories that allow us to navigate the mine field of grief and despair.

I apologize in advance for the stories and character traits I’m going to omit. To quote from one of Danny’s favourite movies, the Princess Bride: “There is too much, I will sum up.”

In many ways, Danny was an ordinary man with struggles and trials and challenges in life. But to those of us gathered here, who knew him well, he was so much more. We are bound to him by eternal bonds of love, and we know, Danny was no ordinary man.

Daniel James Connell was born on January 25, 1942 to James and Jean Connell. He was their second child joining his big sister Elsie. Three years later he was joined by a younger brother named Ted. To those of you who, for just a moment, thought you saw Danny walking around the chapel today, that’s Ted.

These were difficult times in the world, and in the Connell household. Problems in the marriage of James and Jean led to a separation and eventually a divorce. Luckily, Jean was set up on a blind date shortly after the divorce with Charles (Chuck) Camilleri. Chuck and Jean soon fell in love and Chuck made the courageous decision to marry Jean and take on the instant responsibility of three young children. The new family soon added two more additions, Christine and Kenny.

As the Connell children grew into teens they decided to take the last name Camilleri out of respect for the only father they had ever really known.

From Chuck, Danny learned how to work. He once related to me the story of how they dug out their basement. They lived in a small war-time home in Eagle Place in Brantford. Because Eagle Place is close to the Grand River and is considered a flood plain, none of the homes had basements. Chuck decided to dig out a basement under their home and proceeded to do so with his boys, some shovels and a pail. And they dug out that basement one pail at a time. I have no idea how long it took, but I am really glad I wasn’t there for that.

And from Jean, Danny learned compassion. The stories of Jean’s compassion, understanding and forgiveness are legendary and she passed those traits onto her children.

When Danny was nearing the end of his teens, he met a beautiful young woman named Linda Goring. Danny and Linda fell in love and were married on January 20, 1962.

Life wasn’t easy for the young couple, but they both knew how to work hard (Linda was a farm girl and had also learned to work in her fathers tobacco fields). And they knew how to persevere. A song I once heard states the truth: “Time will get you through times of no money, better than money will get you through times of no love.” And Danny and Linda had love.

Over time their little family grew to include five children. Ann, Lance, Chad, Demarise (my favourite) and Terah. They’re all really cool people, Demarise just happens to be my favourite. No particular reason.

In an email to my wife Demarise, that he wrote while in the hospital, Danny shared his view on being a husband and father. “What really bothers me is that I cannot take care of mom or my family. That's my job. That's what fathers and husbands do. At one time I could fight any foe, tackle any challenge and never feared the future. I was strong mentally and physically, now, not so much.”

And that is exactly what Danny did. No matter the circumstances through-out his life, he took care of his wife and his family. Whether that was working to provide money, or cutting wood to provide warmth or tackling a would be intruder in the snow at the back of his house. He protected and provided for his family.

After working at Blue Bird and Stelco in the early years of his marriage, Danny was accepted as a Brantford city police officer in 1973. Danny loved police work. I am willing to bet that almost everyone here has heard one of his stories of police work. Whether it was using his cruiser as a road block to stop an escaping crook or breaking down the door of a suspected drug dealer to spending time in prison under cover to get the confession of his cell mate, he loved it.

In 1966 Linda was introduced to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints by her sister in law, Elsie. She recognized the teachings of the church as truth very quickly and was baptized a member. Danny took a little longer, but in 1971 he joined Linda as a member of the church. 

In 1972 Danny and Linda drove with their family and their friend, Doreen Jones, in a VW bus, to the LDS temple in Salt Lake City and there were sealed as a couple and as a family for all time and eternity. In the midst of our grief, we, Danny’s family, are comforted to know that this separation is just for a brief moment. We will see him again and because of the sealing ordinance, we will, forever, be a family.

In the spring of 1990, it was finally my chance to meet this incredible man. We hit it off immediately. In fact just before my second or third date with Demarise, he excitedly took me out to the truck of his car and showed me his shot gun. (He was working in narcotics at the time). I was thrilled that he liked me enough to show it to me. It was a real bonding moment for us. I have a future son in law now, and I wish I had a shot gun to show him.

When Demarise and I told Linda and Danny we were getting married a short 18 months later, they weren’t exactly thrilled. Dem was only 19 and her decision to marry me effectively ended her university experience. But in true Danny and Linda style, once they knew our minds were made up, they were completely supportive and threw us a fantastic wedding. Danny even purchased a brand new tuxedo shirt for the wedding. It was so new in fact that he wore it before washing it. In all of our pictures he has a distinct fold in his shirt running across the centre of his chest.

Danny was a proficient, no, that’s not the word. He was an excellent, no, that’s still not right. Danny was a handyman. I remember one Saturday at his house working with him and Lance to replace the floor boards in the bathroom. Several had become weak and rotted after years of exposure to water. We pulled up the flooring, removed the toilet, and spent the day installing new solid floor boards. It was difficult work requiring Danny to contort his body to reach the toilet bolts etc. I learned several new ways to express frustration and anger that day. In all the time I knew him, I never heard Danny use profanity, but he had other words he used to express emotions. Dang-blast it, frickin-frackin, oh for crying out loud, and several other words that I couldn’t really make out. They sounded made up. We were proud of our work and remarked repeatedly that a better, more solid floor had never been installed by man. After re-laying the flooring we re-installed the toilet and Danny started to bolt it down. Because the new floor boards were so substantial it was difficult to get the bolt started. Danny asked me to hand him the hammer…. I shouldn’t have done that. One ill aimed blow with the hammer struck the base of the ceramic toilet and there was a sudden and sickening crack. There was complete silence for a moment and then those new words I’d recently learned began again.

In early 1992, Danny was called to serve as the Bishop of the Brantford Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. A Bishop is similar to the priest of minister of other denominations. In the LDS church there is no paid clergy, lay members are called upon to serve as the leader of a congregation for an average of 5 years. Danny served for 9 years. During this time he continued to work for the police department. With permission from the family, I would like to share the entry in Danny’s journal when he was called to this position.

“As I drove home I started to cry. I really had to fight back the tears. I simply knew that this was a tremendous sacrifice of time and energy. I also know that a Bishop has to have many of the qualities that I don’t possess.”

That attitude of humility is what made him a great bishop.

Those of us who were members of the Brantford ward at that time can testify that he WAS a great Bishop. His love and care for the members of his ward knew no bounds. While going through his things we found a large folder of talks he had given during his time as Bishop. Interestingly enough, many of them were funeral talks.

Danny and I would often talk about what it was like to be a Bishop and the pressure that came from helping others work through their individual struggles and challenges. One time he said to me “Don’t ever be in too much of a hurry to solve people’s problems. Give them time to find the solution themselves.” He continued, “When I get a call that someone needs to speak with me, if I know it’s not an emergency, I always schedule the appointment at least a week in the future. You’d be amazed how many things work themselves out in a week”.

This is just one example of Danny’s philosophy on life. It’s better to allow people to solve their own problems than to fix everything for them. Danny and Linda struggled for a good period of their lives. Danny’s journal is filled with concerns about the car or the ability to provide a good Christmas for his family. But through it all, he took no handouts. They worked hard, and did without, and grew individually and as a family through the effort.

A couple of weeks before his death, I was able to visit with him in the hospital alone. I held his hand and I thanked him for being such a great father in law. I thanked him for his example and we shared a special moment. I told him that I was about to become a father in law and that I wanted to be as good as he was. And although it was difficult for him to speak, he said: “Don’t do everything for them. Let them struggle. Let them see what it’s like to do without.” So Lauryn, my dear, it’s Grandpa’s fault.

Danny retired in 2000 and filled his time with travel and service. He was released as a Bishop shortly after his retirement and he and Linda began to travel. Over the last fourteen years they have travelled to over 40 countries.

Danny was invited to work at Mohawk College during his retirement which allowed him to supplement his pension and also allowed him to share his considerable knowledge with would be police officers. He loved to teach, and especially loved to teach about police work, one of his true passions in life.

Danny and Linda also found time to serve an eighteen month mission for the church in South Africa, where they worked with the Church Education System training seminary and institute teachers. Both Danny and Linda are excellent teachers and they excelled in this calling and learned to love the people of South Africa.

Last winter, after he retired from Mohawk College, Danny and Linda decided to spend the winter in Florida. Boy, did they pick a good winter to go away. Danny loved Florida, we spent several weeks there with them and had a fantastic time. He worked on his tan and walked all over the place with Linda. Many nights when we were there, Danny and I would sit on the front porch of their house and talk about life. We had the best deep discussions about religion, life and the pursuit of happiness. He had so much wisdom to share, and I have so much to learn. Those are the times I will miss the most. Just the two of us discussing life and family and the joy that comes from doing what is right.

Danny, you fought a good fight, you finished the course, you kept the faith. You have loved and have been loved and will for through all eternity.

All of us here are feeling the loss of our friend, Danny Camilleri. Those who loved him the most are feeling the most pain. To love is to risk hurt and pain. But the only alternative is to live this life without love, and that would be much worse.

Danny, we love you, until we meet again….

And Danny, one more thing. “God save the Queen”.

The Golden Rule

My daughter Lauryn is talking about marriage. She's met a young man that makes her heart beat faster and slower at the same time and she wants to make it a permanent condition.

My son Jamie is preparing to leave on a two year mission to the West Indies.

These unrelated events have caused me to think carefully about the things I want to say to both Lauryn and Jamie. I have so much "wisdom" I want to share. And I figure if I say it all in a blog, then they care refer to it again and again, and thereby my wisdom will last forever. (Or something like that).

So this is the first of many posts that will attempt to distill the things I have learned thus far.

Lauryn,

You're in love. Love is a beautiful thing. It is a gift from God, given to us, his children.

You already know what love looks like. You have seen the way I look at your mother and you've seen the way we look at you and your brothers. It's that look you get from us somewhere in between the looks of exasperation and unbelief.

Love needs to be nourished in order to thrive, otherwise it will wilt and possibly even die. I know you've seen that in your life too, couples for whom the love has faded away.

So my first post to you will share a secret of keeping love alive. I call it the Platinum Rule.

You've heard of the "Golden Rule": "Do unto others as you would have done unto you." Well, the "Platinum Rule" supersedes the "Golden Rule", it is: "Do unto others as they would have done to them."

Your opportunity as a wife is to discover what makes your husband really happy and then do those things for him. And his opportunity is to do the same for you.

For example, your mom would rather sleep than have breakfast in bed. I would rather have breakfast in bed than sleep. If I wake her up with a plate full of pancakes, I'm likely to get punched in the face, so I let her sleep. If she wakes me up with a plateful of pancakes, I have the best day ever.

Mom loves to have her feet rubbed. She will sit and watch movies for hours if I massage her feet. My feet are ticklish, if she was to rub my feet during a movie it would be the worst movie ever, and I would end up on the floor, trying desperately to crawl away from her wicked hands. (You've seen that, it ain't pretty).

The point is, don't assume that because you like something, your husband will too. It's true that when you get married, you become one. But you become one in purpose, one in loyalty and one in love. You don't give up your individuality, and anyone who expects that of you is a control freak, and you should run, not walk, away from them.

So when that wonderful day comes and you find yourself bound for eternity to a good man. (I'm not putting your boyfriends name in here until there is a ring.) Learn what he loves and what he doesn't love and learn to practice the Platinum Rule.

Earn This

Last Friday night I stayed up late watching "Saving Private Ryan" on television. With the commercials it was four hours long, and worth every minute.

If you haven't seen the movie, here is the synopsis stolen from IMDB.com. "Opening with the Allied invasion of Normandy on 6 June 1944, members of the 2nd Ranger Battalion under Cpt. Miller fight ashore to secure a beachhead. Amidst the fighting, two brothers are killed in action. Earlier in New Guinea, a third brother is KIA. Their mother, Mrs. Ryan, is to receive all three of the grave telegrams on the same day. The United States Army Chief of Staff, George C. Marshall, is given an opportunity to alleviate some of her grief when he learns of a fourth brother, Private James Ryan, and decides to send out 8 men (Cpt. Miller and select members from 2nd Rangers) to find him and bring him back home to his mother"

The movie follows 8 soldiers as they attempt to find Private Ryan (remarkably well played by Matt Damon) and get him safely home.

Near the end of the movie, Captain Miller (played by Tom Hanks) is mortally wounded on a bridge in a small French town, most of the other soldiers who embarked on the journey to save Private Ryan are already dead. He pulls Ryan in close and whispers "Earn this. Earn it". Then he dies.

That phrase, spoken at the climax of the movie has always affected me. There is so much we take for granted in this country. For example, no one is going to kick in my door tonight because they don't like what I wrote in this blog. If I was in China, I wouldn't have that assurance. I am pretty sure when I leave the house every morning, that I will return that evening. Not everyone can say that. And the reason I enjoy all of that freedom is because of people like Cpt Miller and the millions of others who have fought to protect my freedom, the freedom of my family and your freedom.

So this Thurday morning, just one week after the 70th anniversay of D-Day, will find me, and Demarise and Jamie at our local polling station, earning, in a small way, the sacrifice of the brave allied soldiers.

I hope I don't get in trouble for including this comic strip from last remembrance day, but I just love the message. (click the picture to see it larger)

We remember. Nous nous souvenons.

Opening Day

 

It's 8:30 Saturday morning and I'm sitting in a lawn chair at a sports park watching Ethan play his first soccer game of the season. 

The sun is beating down on my back perfectly complimenting the crisp morning air. The air smells clean and fresh with just a hint of fresh cut grass. 

Ethan (number 2) is playing with his usual cat like reflexes and skill. He's one of the smallest players, but he can really move out there. 

This is a huge sports park and I can hear the cheers of the parents coming from every quarter. 

After this, there will be team pictures and the obligatory opening day hot dog and the ride home while Ethan re lives the game in excruciating detail. 

It's another perfect Saturday morning. 

Daddy's Girl

I got a stern talking to yesterday from my daughter Lauryn. She will be 21 in a few days and is currently going to Brigham Young University in Idaho. (Can't get into a lot of trouble in Idaho).

She was mad/sad/disappointed/miffed that I hadn't written a post about her. So here, my little brown eyed girl, is your post. You can show it to all of your friends, I bet their dads don't blog about them...

Demarise and I waited 9 months after our wedding before we got pregnant, which is a long time for a young Mormon couple. Then one day we visited some friends in Kanata who had a brand new baby girl and we fell in love with the idea of having a baby of our own.

Three weeks later, we were expecting.

When Demarise was 3 months pregnant, she was in a terrible car accident that caused serious damage to her feet (she still has trouble standing or walking for a long time) and left her badly bruised and unconscious. I rushed to the hospital and explained to the doctors that she was 3 months pregnant. They didn't look hopeful, but arranged to have an emergency ultrasound done.

I was nervous as they prepared the ultrasound, but I needn't have been. There was Lauryn calmly swimming around, sucking her thumb.

We found out early that we were having a girl and we immediately named her Lauryn Cosette (from Les Miserables).

When she was further along, and started moving around, she would push her hand, or foot, or some other body part, hard against Dems stomach so that you could see a little bump. We would lie in bed and I would put my hand over the bump and "hold" Lauryn's little hand and talk to her for hours at a time.

Lauryn was two weeks late which drove us crazy. This was before cell phones and I had a pager that I checked hundreds of times a day. And poor Demarise had long passed the novelty phase of pregnancy.

Finally, on May 30th, 1993, Dem started having contractions. They started and we called her parents and they came over. And then they stopped and they left. And then they started again, and back they came. After what seemed forever, they were 5 minutes apart and we could go to the hospital.

It was a fresh and reasonably warm evening with an incredible wind. As I gently helped my wife into the car I remember thinking that all of the angels in heaven were escorting my little girl to her new earthly home.

Finally, after the longest night of my life, (I had to stay up all night on a very uncomfortable stool, while my wife lounged in a comfortable bed), my little brown eyed girl was born.

The nurses took her and cleaned her up and she screamed and screamed. They wrapped her in a blanket and she screamed and screamed some more. Then they placed her in my arms and she screamed. I said "Hi there Lauryn, I'm your daddy." And she stopped crying, opened her eyes, looked into mine and then closed her eyes and went to sleep.

It was right about that time that she wrapped herself around my heart, and she's lived there ever since.

Music Memories

I think it's amazing how easily a familiar song can send your mind hurtling back in time to a special memory.

Here are a few of the songs that do that for me...

Queen - Bohemian Rhaposody

When I was about 10 or 11 years old, we had a foster sister named Angie who was about 15. I remember so clearly standing in the bed of my Dad's truck with Angie as she taught me that song. Of course that was before walkmen or iPods, so she just sang it and I sang it with her. After we were done I think she realized that she had just taught a 10 year old boy to sing "Mama, I just killed a man..." and she made me promise to never tell my mom where I learned that song. And I never did... until now. Sorry Angie!

Sheriff - When I'm With You

Somewhere in my high school career, the band Sheriff did a concert for us. It was my first rock concert. The gym was set up with folding chairs and I remember one of the teachers walking around with a decibel meter, looking like quite the dork. Near the end of the concert, one of the band members yelled something about getting out of our chairs and acting like we were at a concert and people started pushing the chairs out of the way and running up to the stage. I loved "When I'm With You" so much, we had it as the first song at our wedding.

Alphaville - Forever Young

This one always reminds my of my best friend, Seth. One Friday night while we were driving around looking for something exciting to do, he put his Alphaville cassette in the stereo in his car and we jammed out. There was a slight clicking noise on "Forever Young", probably because we played it so often, and we obsessed about that little noise for a long time.

"Do you hear that noise?"

"Yeah, I hear it. What do you think it is?"

"I don't know, you hear it though right?"

Whenever I hear that song now, with or without clicking, it always reminds me of Seth and the great times we had together.

Louis Armstrong - What a Wonderful World

This was the last song played at our wedding, (well that last one we heard), it was playing as we said good-bye to everyone. On our wedding video, you can see Demarise hugging everyone and their brother, while I am holding her hand and gently but firmly trying to pull her away. I've got her in one hand and a bottle of (non-alcoholic) champagne in the other.

There is another story for this song, but it deserves a post all of its own.

ABBA - Anything by them

My entire teenage years. ABBA was the soundtrack to my adolescence. As I say to my kids now, if it's not ABBA, it's crap!

Starship - We Built This City

When I was on my mission in Montreal, of course we weren't permitted to listen to rock music. But one day a few of us were in a clothing store and "We Built This City" came on. One of the Elders was from the San Francisco area and he got so excited. I've loved it ever since. And luckily, my sister Heidi married a guy cool enough to love it too. So now I have a song with one of my Brothers in law!

Journey - Don't Stop Believing

When I was 17, I was a cast member in the Hill Cumorah Pageant in Palmyra, NY with my friends, Seth, Brad, and Simon. One night we ended up crammed into the back of Kim Sherwoods VW Jetta along with several other people. I'm sure we were breaking some sort of law, but we didn't care. We were driving along a country road singing along to this classic by Journey.

Well I could go on and on. There are so many great songs that take me back to so many great memories. All I can say is, "Thank you for the Music"

Sudden Fits of Crying

I was working at my desk today with my headphones on to eliminate distractions, gently bopping my head to the music when suddenly I started to cry.

"Any Dream Will Do" from "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" came on with Donny Osmond singing. And that reminded me of Jamie and how proud I am of his singing ability and the job he did when we produced Joseph for the Stake. And then I remembered that in 3 months he'll leave for his mission.

And that's when it started, big crocodile tears rolling down my face. The tears were a mixture of tears of joy and tears of sadness. I'm so proud of "Elder Fischer" and his motivation to serve the Lord, but at the same time, how am I supposed to go two whole years without seeing him or hearing him sing.

I didn't cry when he opened his call exactly one week ago, although he did. But I sure did today.

I guess it's true what the say; I'm sad to see him go, the only thing that would make me sadder, is if he didn't go.

You are hereby called to Serve...

It's a scene that is unique to Mormondom, the whole family including as many extended family members gather together in a living or rec room with eager anticipation. Seated at a place of honour is a worthy young man or young woman, holding a large white envelope with the return address: Office of the First Presidency.

Generally the routine is similar. The family members in the room take turns guessing where the future missionary will serve, while the missionary nervously turns the envelope over and over in his hands.

With the advances in technology, often family members who are far away are present through the use of Skype or other applications.

Finally the room grows silent as the missionary gingerly opens the envelope and removes the letter that will change his or her life forever. "Elder (or Sister) so and so, you are hereby called to serve as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. You are assigned to labour in the _______ mission".

This is followed by cheers, and hugs and tears and quite often the request for a map.

I've been privileged to be present at a number of these occasions, sometimes in person and sometimes electronically. We are a missionary minded family and including our extended family and various in-laws, we have served in Italy, Montreal, Japan, Boston, Czech Republic, Brampton, England, Portland Oregon, New Mexico and South Africa.

But today was different, today it was my son in the hot seat, with that familiar envelope in his hands. Surrounding him was his family, some very close friends and via Skype, his sister in Idaho. And there were cheers and hugs and tears, and yes, a request for a map.

Jamie will serve in the West Indies mission. He enters the Provo MTC on August 27.

And in a super cool twist of fate, Jamie's cousin Devan, who was born the day after him also got his call today. He will be serving in Colombia, South Carolina. He enters the MTC one week after Jamie, so they will have some time together there.

For years our family got together for baby blessings, baptisms, priesthood ordinations etc. And now the missions begin. And in true Mormon style, we're still having baby blessings, thanks to Maranda and Matt!

Here is the video of Jamie opening his call...

Could it be?

Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but.... grass. I was overcome with emotion. "Dem", I cried, "come and see! It's grass, beautiful grass".

After this unending winter, the sight of just a small patch of green (OK, more brown than green) showing through the shimmering white blanket of frozen ice crystals returned hope to my winter weary heart.

I love grass. I love the way it feels under my bare feet. I love the way it smells when freshly cut and I love the look of a beautifully manicured lawn. But more than this, I love what grass represents. Grass is the ultimate survivor. It can flourish in the cracks of a sidewalk or roadway. It goes dormant throughout the winter or during times of drought and then as soon as it receives a little water and sunshine it start to grow immediately.

I wish I could be more like grass, strong and resilient. I wish I could endure difficult times with courage and stalwartness and then bounce back with hope and optimism the instant the clouds begin to clear.

I guess the secret is in the roots. Grass has a spectaular root system that reaches far into the soil in search of nourishment and strength. Maybe I just need to work on developing deeper roots.