JOHN HARDIE (2)

Eulogy for Dad (by Donald Hardie) We come here today to mourn the passing of a great man, my father, Doctor John Hardie. My father was not a public figure - rather, he was an intensely private man who lived his life in celebration of a strong code - a code that we often, sadly, find lacking in our society today. His code, I think, was born of his generation. A generation that knew, first hand, suffering and aching loss. But his was also a generation that stood for hard work and hope and achievement...really, they stood for the American Dream. My father's life, and his code, revolved around three main things: His profession as a physician, his experience as a combat soldier, and, above all else, a deep loyalty to and love of his family and friends. My dad was a physician for over 40 years, and a professor of medicine for over 30 - to many who knew him he was simply "Doc" Hardie. He became a physician in a time before being a doctor became a business - before managed care and run - away malpractice. It was perhaps a simpler time where the love of medicine - both the intellectual and the human aspects - propelled him. For him, medicine was an honored profession that he was personally honored to be a part of. Medicine truly was his calling...not just his occupation. When I think of all the lives he touched over forty years of treating patients, I am awed by the scope of the impact that he made in his characteristically humble and intensely private manner. My father was, at his core, a combat soldier. More precisely, he was a seasoned combat paratrooper. He served for 4 years in the 82d Airborne, 508 Division, C Company during World War Two, leaving the service as a staff sergeant. Both his brothers, Jim and George, were also combat veterans. In the service, perhaps not surprisingly for those that knew him well, my Dad earned the nickname "Red." Now, you would think this referred to the fiery red hair of his youth, but you would be wrong. You see, his real nickname was not "Red." Rather, the true moniker from the 82d years was "Red Ass" - you see it was a name borne not of his physical attributes but of his indomitable and often feisty temperament. During the war, my Dad - Red - made two combat jumps - in the D - Day invasion and in operation Market Garden in Nijmegen, Holland. In addition, he saw action in Germany, Belgium and France. For his service, he was awarded the Parachutist Badge with 2 combat jump stars, two bronze stars, three purple hearts, the good conduct medal, the American Theater medal - including an assault landing arrowhead and 4 battle stars, the WWII Victory Medal and the Occupation Forces/Germany Medal. In addition, his unit was awarded the United States Presidential Unit Citation, the France Croix de Guerre, the France Fourragére, the Belgium Fourragére, the Netherlands Order of William (Knight 4th Class) and the Netherlands Orange Lanyard. Those are all very important distinctions and they deserve (and were) properly honored. But you know, to my Dad, they were not what mattered most. What mattered most to Red was the men with which he served. You see, they truly were a band of brothers linked by an experience that few of us can really understand. All my life I have heard the stories of the times these very special men shared: some horrific, some heartbreaking, some inspiring and some plain hilarious. I have had the blessing of meeting many of the men who headline in these stories. What I was always struck by was a phenomenon that my Dad used often to describe his very close friend Leonard Funk, a Congressional Medal of Honor Winner. The phenomenon was simply that these were ordinary men who performed feats of epic bravery. To look at them, especially as they aged, was to belie the greatness of a group of men, who, by their sheer will and courage, truly saved the world as we today know it. Over the years, as I mentioned, I had the good fortune to meet many of these men who served with my Dad in the war. From them, and mostly from my Dad, I have learned an amazing thing: a love and a loyalty for my fellow man and my country -  - a love that is worth fighting, and if need be dying for. This is a legacy I plan to pass on to my children, and we all here need to honor the memory of these great men by carrying on this glorious spirit. Finally, and most importantly, my Dad was a family man. Above all else for Doc Hardie, for Red, was a deep devotion to family and loved ones. Those of you who knew my Dad well know there was nothing - nothing—more important to him than his family—his immediate family, his extended family and his family of friends. That is not to say, however, that Dad was cut from the kinder gentler cloth of modern age. No, that would simply not be true. And if I learned one other thing from my Dad it's that you have to tell it like it is. So I have to confess it is true that Dad could be, shall we say, prickly at times. Yes, and he did tend to love a disagreement - the louder the better. But none of that could overshadow the love he felt for each of us. He was a devoted husband to my Mom for nearly 50 years, and a kind and loving Dad to John, Leslie, Lisa and myself. He welcomed Rachel and Linda with open arms - and I am overjoyed that he got to know his first two grandchildren, Hannah and Rosie, and that he was aware of the imminent arrival of his third. I have, and I think my whole family has, wonderful memories of Christmases, Thanksgivings, 4th of July parties at my Uncle Ron and Aunt Annemarie's place, holidays with Mary and Bob, wedding celebrations, skiing trips and summers in Cape Cod. These were wonderful, carefree - if sometimes loud and boisterous -  times spent in his company - and we are all better for it. But I also remember quiet talks about life and its challenges, and the wisdom that only 81 years well lived can impart. It's this wisdom that I hope will live on in each of us and in my children and forever be a reminder of the humble but extraordinary man that was my father. Because I cannot hope to compete with those more practiced in the craft, I would like to borrow some very beautiful words from Emily Dickinson: And if I go, while you're still here know that I live on, vibrating to a different measure behind a veil you cannot see through That is how I choose to remember my father - in the present through the eyes of the experiences that made him what he was. Dad, I will miss you. We all will miss you. We love you. God bless you and Goodbye.