Papa's Eulogy

This is the eulogy I wrote and presented for Papa's memorial service on Saturday, August 28, 2004.

John Morgan "Jim" Newman

Ronald Reagan once said, "I know in my heart that man is good, that what is right will always eventually triumph and that there is purpose and worth to each and every life."

On behalf of the entire Newman family, I thank you for attending this celebration of my father’s worthy life; a journey that was filled with love and a lot of laughter. A life that was truly an example of all that is good, honest and right. We believe he is looking down from Heaven and is certainly awed, seeing this outpouring of love and recognition. I believe that everyone’s life is an amazing story just waiting to be told and I hope that you’ll bear with me while I share some of my fathers.

John Morgan Newman, also known as "Jim, JM and Papa" to those closest to him, was a long time resident of this community. He was born in Muldrow, Oklahoma on January 28, 1936 to Jessie Chitwood-Spencer and Henry C. Newman. He died peacefully at home on Wednesday, August 25, 2004 after a long struggle with diabetes and liver disease.

Preceding him in death was his father, Henry, sister; Brenda, step-father;  "Sarge" Dunn and two infant sons; James and Morgan.

He is survived by his mother, Jessie; daughters, Lisa and Abigail; sons, Noel (Yvette), Sean, Justin (Christy), Parker (Wendy), and Joel; sister, Mary and brother and sister-in-law, Lee and Sherry. He is also survived by his eldest grandchildren, Tamara and Scott (Kerry), whom he raised as his own, and his other grandchildren; Riley, Tonacey and Cindy.  The family gratefully acknowledges Tricia for her loving nursing and family assistance during Papa’s long illness, and his final days. She is truly an angel.

Thanks to the staff of Hoffmann Hospice, his last days were pain-free, and filled with loving care and the tender good-byes of his family, who surrounded him as he passed over to the spirit world.

Despite the illness that cut his life too short, he never lost his sense of humor, even toward the end. A few weeks back, while he lay on a gurney at the hospital awaiting a procedure, I stood by his side. He looked up at my saggy, double chin and said, "Did you change your mind about that plastic surgery?" I said, "Well Papa, you’ve been so sick that I haven’t been able to get that done!" and he replied, "You may just want to reconsider that pretty soon!" One day recently, my Aunt Mary and I were huffing and puffing and "sweating like goats" (which is pure Okie talk), as we were tending to him and changing his bed. He looked over at us, shook his head and said, "440 pounds of PURE MENOPAUSE!"

He retired from the state correctional system in 1998, after a 17 year career as a Correctional Officer and a highly respected Correctional Counselor. He loved his work and was pleased to share his knowledge and experience with his coworkers, and act as a supervisor when asked. He was considered a devoted and motivated staff member and was often selected to participate in various special assignments in headquarters. Additionally, in May of 1995, he was honored as Employee of the Month. For over 10 years he was a staff sponsor for the inmate’s Alcoholics Anonymous and Native American self-help groups. His investigative abilities were amazing and he often assisted the institution’s Investigative Services Unit and local law enforcement in solving many criminal cases that occurred both inside and outside of the prison. Of his many prison "war stories" a favorite comes to mind. He was a Unit II yard officer on Third Watch when a major riot broke out in Dorm 6. He was the first officer to respond to the chaotic scene and an inmate said to him with great concern, "They only sent one officer?" to which Papa replied, "Well, you’ve only got one riot don’t you?!"

He served in the United States Air Force for four years, mostly in the remote sections of Alaska. When the kids were little and asked him if he ever served in the war, he’d say, "Yes, I fought the war in Alaska!" The kids would say, "I didn’t know there was a war in Alaska!" Papa would say "Well, I guess you didn’t hear much about it because we won!"

Prior to beginning his career in state corrections, Jim served his beloved  community as a Deputy Constable for the Judicial District, serving with his friend, Lee W. He then began his employment with the Sheriff’s Department as a dispatcher. His ever calm demeanor made him a natural for that type of work.

One night, he received a particularly stressful call from a rookie deputy who said, "They’re shooting at me! What do I do?" Papa calmly replied, "SHOOT BACK!" That tape was used for many years for dispatcher training. On a sadder note, he was once required to maintain his composure and dispatch medical help and the CHP to a horrifying accident on Highway 58 that he believed to involve his wife; Becky, based upon the description of the automobile and the fact that she had just left his work site after dropping off his dinner. It turned out he was right. Thankfully, Becky lived to tell about it.

He continued his employment with the Sheriff’s Department as the Court Liaison Officer for the County Alcohol Treatment Program, making sentence recommendations to the court. Also, he was well known in County circles due to his involvement in the alcohol/drug treatment community. He was a past member of the County Alcohol Advisory Board, and former Director of Carter Hall, a treatment home for women. He’d often read the obituaries in the local papers and say "Oh, one of my drunks died!" That’s just the kind of guy he was, recognizing the good in everyone.

He was an accomplished pilot and flight instructor for most of his life until he was "grounded" by diabetes. His biplane sat idle in the garage at his home for years and it was often a topic of conversation from passersby. He recently received his 40 year membership pin from Aircraft Owners and Pilot’s Association.

Papa loved to take us flying and he often said that he wished one of us would take an interest in it as well. We weren’t sure that would ever happen! Once just after taking young Parker for a flight, Parker said, "Dad, I like flying, but I like flying American Airlines!" Parker has now changed his mind and is planning to take flight lessons. His eldest grandson, Scott, made him very proud to choose a career as an Army Helicopter pilot, and Papa recently gave Scott the biplane that I mentioned previously.

He was a proud tribal member of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, having personally met every recent Principal Chief, beginning with Wilma Mankiller. He was a 32 degree Mason in the lodge here in town and enjoyed his participation until illness made it impossible.

Papa enjoyed history and was an avid genealogist tracing our family back into the early 1700s. He served as a volunteer at the local LDS Genealogy Library for many, many years despite the fact he was not a member of the church. During that time he assisted many people and was considered an expert on Native American research.

A great story-teller, he kept his family and friends enthralled with the entertaining and humorous details of his adventure filled life and loves. Sometimes he’d start out a story with, "One of my ex-wives" or "One of my children, but I forget which one…." Then someone would say, "Well, just how many wives or kids did you have?" He’d say, "Hell, I don’t know! I am a lover, not an accountant!"

He'd provide us with pearls of wisdom like, "Don’t ever sleep with someone sicker than you!

Or, "If there’s one thing worse than having one woman in your life, it’s having two!"

My favorite, "I’ll get married again when I need help back and forth to the bathroom!"

His greatest pleasure in life was his family, well…..most of the time. He once said to me, Lisa, it’s a good thing you’re my daughter, because if you were my wife, I’d have divorced your arse a long time ago!"

Abigail; his youngest daughter and donut buddy, was a bright star and his greatest joy in his life for the past 12 years. They teased one another all the time. When speaking about Abbie or Joel, he’d say, "I now know why they call some Indians civilized!"

He especially enjoyed meals in local restaurants with his children and grandchildren. It may have been that he was afraid of my cooking. I really don’t know! But, he favored Henry’s Café, where he loved to visit with Richard and Debbie, the owners and was served by his favorite waitresses; Desiree, Kristi, Marietta, Nicole and Kasey. He loved to slip them a 20 dollar bill for their birthdays, at Christmas or when one of them was off to Las Vegas. He did it just because he could, living life like he was rich, and he was richer for it.

My father was a very giving man. Sometimes to a fault. There were some people along the way that took advantage of his generosity, but it never deterred him. As a Native American, he believed he would be judged in the afterlife by what he gave to others. I believe that most of us here can say that we benefited from that trait of his at one time or another. He probably paid for your lunch or dinner, on more than one occasion. He was especially liked to pick up the check for everyone at the table when we’d go out to eat, saying, "That’s one thing in life that I am really good at!"

Papa always said he’d never invite a lady to lunch and allow her to pick up the check. Unless, of course, it was me! He told me since I was a Captain, I could afford it. Come to think of it, he also said, "You know what…..now that you’re a Captain, you can also shine your own damn work boots!" I know he was extremely proud of me, but he said he had to draw the line somewhere!

In closing, I’d like to read this passage from the book September, by Rosamunde Pilcher…….

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.

Oh, and if you were to ask me if there was just one thing that you could do to honor my father’s memory, it would be to pick up someone’s restaurant check……please, and do it in the same, loving manner.