Barbara Hays
This was written by his daughters and read at John's funeral by his son-in-law, Eddie Caplan.
Memories
Barbara speaking:
After Dad died, I picked up his guitar to play a few songs. I immediately had a question to ask him about a chord. It was such a sad moment. There was so much wisdom in that man, so much more I could learn from him, and I had run out of time. Then I realized that there would never, could never, be enough time to learn everything Dad had to teach. Likewise, these few notes could never express the full story of this man that we love so much.
All of us:
We had the best parents ever. Both of them were strong and independent and stubborn! (These nuts didn’t fall far from the tree!) Mom always believed that we could do ANYTHING. And dad expected us to do it. We believed them. They raised three very strong girls. Dad came home once telling us of a bumper sticker that he saw on the way home. He quoted it often as his all-time favorite: “A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.” Who would have guessed that Dad was a feminist?
Dad taught us to make decisions for ourselves. If we asked if we could go to a party, he would not answer yes or no. He would ask questions (When? Where? Are parents at home? Who will attend?) He would summarize the pros and cons, but in the end, the decision was left to us. Even if we made “not so good” decisions, he trusted us and supported us. We tried so hard to deserve that trust. Disappointing our parents was the worst possible punishment.
Dad was very opinionated but never judgmental. He always said it was not his place to judge. He treated everyone with respect.
The man that most of you think of when you remember Dad is not the man that we grew up with. Dad was quiet, shy, and serious. It wasn’t until he became Mom’s caretaker that he learned to be more open with his emotions. He showed his love through his constant support of who we chose to be. He never raised his voice to us, but he was firm with his rules and expectations. His confidence in our ability to do anything was contagious.
Dad had an incredible thirst for knowledge. He left school in the 6th grade but never stopped learning. In addition to his electronics courses in the Navy, he took correspondence courses via mail. He learned calculus that way! He earned 100% on every single assignment. He learned Italian so he could enjoy his operas more. When he returned to formal schooling after ‘retiring’, he said that he was proud of his associate degree, but the high school diploma always meant more to him. Perhaps waiting for so many years to earn that diploma increased its value.
Claire speaking:
I always knew that Dad was strong and smart and humble and kind. And I know he was wise, but I don’t think I really understood wisdom until about five years ago. I hope that I remember to use those wise things he taught me. The last few years have been such a blessing. He kept me strong. He was my rock. He took care of me. I never really felt like a caretaker and did my best to make him understand that. I am so grateful that I was able to spend that time with him.
Mom’s sister, Aunt Peggy, was 14 when Mom and Dad married. She spent a lot of time with them and the three of them were always close. When speaking to her a few days ago, she expressed how much he touched lives, “especially mine” she said. Rachel responded, “and especially mine and especially everyone else he came in contact with.” Aunt Peggy repeated, “NO. ESPECIALLY MINE!” He had that way of making everyone feel that “especially mine” thing.
All of us:
Rebecca was Dad’s favorite; ask anyone. She was the first and so beautiful . He was so proud of her. He took her to get her first “big girl” haircut in 6th grade, and--of course--he let her choose the style she wanted. In the end, more than a foot of curls lay on the floor and she was transformed into a beautiful young lady with a stylish bob. Mom was furious.
(cont.)
