Russell Roberts

Dad’s Eulogy - October 6, 2007
Russell Roberts, my father, had a life that spanned nearly a century - from his days as a child on his grandfather’s farm, the farm he farmed nearly all his life until just a few short months ago.
Russell was 91, and he grew up with his father, his grandfather, his uncle Wally, and his brother Wally in an all-male household after the Spanish Influenza of 1918 that took his mother Minnie when Dad was just two years old. The men did everything on the farm - lived in a log cabin (that still stands), worked the land, cooked, made soap, caught turtles, and had King Daves up to play cards on Sundays. Russell’s ingrained work ethic was born in these circumstances and it never left him. He worked hard, expected that of his children, and respected it in others. He was tied physically and emotionally to the land; it was one of the great commitments of his life.
His other great commitment was to his wife, Marjorie. They met at a dance in Stockton, fell in love, and as of this past September 30th they were married 68 years. The marriage began a little unconventionally. They eloped to Iowa and were married in the Little Brown Church there. It was rumored that Marjorie’s father, Ernie Kleckner, wasn’t as taken with Russell as Marjorie was. However, Grandpa Kleckner was glad to have been found wrong; the marriage was strong. Six healthy children were born: three boys, three girls. Russell did a lot of things in his long life, but the best thing he did was marry Marjorie. Marjorie was the antidote to Russell, her humor and kindness balancing his more practical efforts at providing for and supporting what he called “THE OUTFIT’.
Dad believed in things being in order and being done the right way (which was his way, Russell’s way). As kids, we learned early about Pop’s sense of sureness, and he expected that we measure up to his standards. Russell was dignified and formal in many ways, and he valued behaving well all his life. Stemming from this sense of correctness and loyalty, he enjoyed long standing relationships with family members, friends, and acquaintances whose company he looked forward to and whom he helped out when he could - especially in times of need. I am thinking of his life-long friend and neighbor Gene Miller, Everett Read in his declining years, and our Aunt Elsie.
History mattered to Russell, and you see the threads of his own family history play out - from his Cornish grandfather whom he lived with as a boy to the stories he told his own children, as well as the travels through America that he took us on as kids - and, of course, his interest in the 16mm films we had to watch when we got home.
He enjoyed his semi-retirement and retirement years, meeting new acquaintances and re-acquainting with friends from previous years as he and Marjorie wintered in Florida, or Arizona, or Texas, or summered out West in the National Parks or visited relatives in Idaho.
Russell was a rooted-in-reality person, utterly sensible and decent and moral - admirably UN-MODERN.
Thankfully, he maintained a hardy physicality until nearly the end, and he led a long and healthy life, capped by a happy marriage.

I cannot believe that Russell left this world with regrets. In his later years, Russell had a serenity and a mature acceptance of life. I think he knew his life was one he was grateful for, where he envied no one. It was the end stage of a process of development that began as a baby on the farm, living among men in turn-of-the-century conditions, and ending on that same farm in Marjorie’s company with a large extended family who dearly loved “Grandpa”.
So goodbye Dad. I love you. We all love you.
Norman Roberts
10/10/07