Life lessons from Leroy

This past Saturday, our family experienced a great loss, ninety-nine years in the making.  Leroy Hartman, affectionately known in our family as “Grandpa,” and even more recently, as “Great Grandpa,” passed away.  He was laid to rest yesterday, after a wonderful service, where he was in the company of many family and friends.

The loss, understandably, is great.  The impact that a person can leave after so many years can’t not be profound.  Reflecting on his life, we all realize the lessons that he taught us, whether they were unintentional or not.  I know I will always remember him and his life very fondly.

Leroy deer hunted well into his 90s. 
He shot this buck when he was 92.

I never really knew my grandfathers, so he certainly served as a grandfatherly figure to me.  I’ll never forget the first time I met him. I hadn’t been dating his granddaughter for even a month, yet he insisted that Christmas Eve evening in 1995 that I come into his home for their family’s time-honored tradition of togetherness for the holiday.  This man didn’t know me until he met me that night, too dark to even really know what I looked like, yet he welcomed me, a virtual stranger, into his home with open arms.

That evening, when the family was exchanging gifts, Leroy and his wife, Jeanette, presented me with a gift – a huge box of chocolates (little did they know it was an awesome gift because I absolutely love chocolate).  I'll never forget how much that gesture of generosity and good will impacted me.  It was awesome.

In future years, when the family made its annual trips to Eagle River for Memorial Day weekend, Leroy and Jeanette allowed my future brother-in-law and I to stay in their cabin with them.

A few years later, as I completed college and was making preparations to go to chiropractic school, Leroy offered me the chance to live with him in his home, where I lived full-time for a whole year, and then stayed on weekends when I came to visit my future wife, Shelly, for a period of four years while enrolled in chiropractic school.

If you ever went away hungry when staying with Leroy, it was your own fault.  He always made sure everyone had enough to eat.  Even when you were full, he was trying to give you even more.  Every time my daughters and nieces went to visit him, they always knew one of the first words to them would be along the lines of “Do you want a cookie?”  Usually, they walked away with no fewer than two or three cookies!

Obviously, over a span of ninety-nine years, there are no shortage of stories to share.  Above all, what impresses me most is that in a very simple way, Leroy got it.  He understood that when he had a choice to live his life out of love or fear, he chose love.  He chose to be generous in welcoming people into his home; he chose to be generous with the food he placed in front of his loved ones; he chose to reach out to strangers, and strike up a conversation and learn something new when he could have easily said and learned nothing.  Leroy got it.  He knew how to live out of love – not fear.

Leroy, you will certainly be missed.  The legacy you leave behind those who loved you, however, will stand the test of time.  Thanks for teaching me some great life lessons, and helping me become a better person for having known you.  Rest in peace and in paradise.  It is well earned!