A Eulogy for Robert “Bob” Ament
1936-2013
I wish Bob were here. I realize we all wish Bob were still here, but what I mean is that If Bob were here this would be a roast instead of a funeral, and the jokes would be a lot better. In fact if Bob were here he and I would be sharing a few jokes, a little humor to lighten the mood. Anyone who knew Bob would know he had a great sense of humor. He told great jokes, and enjoyed hearing them. If you close your eyes and listen you can almost hear that big, booming, heartfelt laugh that as much his trademark as anything.
We could use a little laughter right now. Funerals are hard. I remember when Bob’s Mom died my wife at one point looked at me and said, “What is wrong with me? I do not want to go to this”. I said, “Sweetheart, nobody enjoys going to a funeral”. And it is true of course. I have felt and observed a range of strong emotions in the past week. There has been sadness and pain, fear, anger, frustration and guilt. Sadness and pain are natural when you have lost a dear friend, husband, father, and uncle. There is fear of a future without our loved one and fear of funerals and crying in public. There is anger that this had to happen and frustration and guilt that we were not able to prevent it. All of those feelings are normal and natural and things that we have to endure as part of the process of grieving.
On the other hand this occasion, like so many others, brings together family and friends that may have been busy and preoccupied with living our busy lives and lets us reconnect and talk about our memories and stories and good times. There is admiration and respect as we reflect on how honored we are to have known such a wonderful man. There is the realization of how much our close family and friends mean to us. And there is the love we all feel, as others pray and care for us in our time of loss. I wish Bob were here to feel all of that love and respect one more time.
One of the things we do at a time like this is to look at old pictures and videos and tell stories and recall the good times and even some not so good times. As I prepared for this occasion by digging out old photos I became aware of a truth I already knew.
I would like to ask each of you to pause for a minute and ask yourself each of the following questions. Who celebrated your last birthday with you? Whose birthdays do you help celebrate? Who are you with on Christmas Day? Who do you spend Thanksgiving with? Who was at your wedding? Who has come to your home to visit with you? Whose home have you visited? Who was there when your children were born? And yes, whose funeral was important enough for you to attend.
As I looked through pictures that I had collected over the last 35 years I realized Robert Ament and I had shared nearly all of the important events of our lives together over that time. He was part of a pretty small list of my friends and family that are sharing my life with me, and I was lucky enough to share his with him. I realize it sounds strange but I wish Bob were here to share this with me today. It feels a little strange to have a major life event happen without Bob here, but I guess I will have to get used to that from now on.
Bob Ament was born on December 5th, 1936. He was the son of Lillian and Harry and had one older brother, also named Harry. I did not know Bob’s Dad but was fortunate to know Lillian, and if you knew Bob’s Mom you know it is no exaggeration when I say she was one of the sweetest ladies ever. I did not use the term “lady” lightly. Lillian was warm and gentle and caring and Bob loved her dearly as did everyone. He treated her with the love and dignity that she deserved and he also treated his wife and daughters and everyone else with that same dignity and gentleness. Bob was both a gentleman and a gentle man and would not have been so if it had not started with Lillian. Bob lost his Dad too early. I did not know Bob’s Dad but I suspect he learned his manners from him and never lost them.
I also was fortunate to have met Uncle Harry on a few occasions and it helped to shed some light on Bob’s great sense of humor. When those two got together the jokes and quips and on-liners got thick and heavy and it was something to behold. I remember belly laughing at the interplay between them. It was clear there was a lot of love and respect between these brothers.
Uncle Harry was a legitimate hero of World War 2, an aviator who flew some critical missions in the air force during the war. It was obvious Bob admired his brother and he joined the air force as well, although in peacetime in the fifties. I was treated on many occasions to stories of Bob’s air force days, and tales of Harry’s missions, as was the rest of the family. Bob could really tell stories and he seemed to relive each experience with the telling. I wish Bob was here to tell some of those old stories.
In 1959 the young airman named Bob Ament married a young nurse from Sedalia named Mary Jo Moriarty. The marriage only lasted 54 years. If you knew nothing else about this man, it was apparent that he dearly loved his wife Mary Jo. You could see it in his eyes, and in the gentle and loving way he treated her. In 1961 they had a daughter they named Dana, and in 1964 they had a second daughter they named Stacy. The family moved from Texas to St. Louis and Mary Jo went to work at a hospital while Bob got a job at McDonnell Douglas. The family lived in Florissant for a while and then along with Bob’s mother they all moved out to west St. Louis county and settled in.
Let’s stop for a moment and reflect for a moment on what a strange guy Bob Ament was. (Statistically speaking, of course). Bob was a veteran who served his country in the Air Force. He married only once and stayed married for 54 years. Once he started with McDonelll Douglas he kept the same job for the rest of his career, which was almost 35 years (the job shifted from McDonell Douglas to IBM). When they moved to their new home the family began attending St. Claire of Assisi and that is the church we are in today. Bob went back to school at night at Washington University and got his degree. He was definitely an old school, statistical aberration.
In 1982 I was fortunate enough to marry Bob and Mary Jo’s youngest daughter, Stacy. Obviously the bar had been set pretty high. Bob treated his wife and daughters like ladies. He was warm and gentle and caring and respectful. That was a lot to live up to, and although I have failed in many respects I am still here and still writing my story. I hope mine turns out as well as Bob’s.
Stacy and I gave Bob and Mary Jo three wonderful grandchildren, (Eric, Adam, and Caitlin) who are here today, along with Eric’s wife Lacy. They know they have a lot to live up to; not only did Bob and Mary Jo make it 54 years their other grandparents made it over 50 years and Stacy and I have been going since 1982. And I should note that a week before we got married Mary Jo’s parents celebrated their 50 anniversary. A high bar has been set all around.
Bob Ament loved jazz, and I have never met anyone who knew more about it. That is fortunate, because I, too, loved jazz, and we were destined to spend a lot of time together. He taught me more about jazz than I learned anywhere else and we spent countless hours listening to an endless stream of recordings and talking about what we liked and who played what on which recording and Bob would fill in the details on the history of each musician. I cannot stress this enough; this man knew more about jazz than anyone I have ever met, and I have met a lot of people who loved music. His knowledge of jazz was astounding.
Bob Ament also loved aviation. We went to quite a few airshows and I would just listen to him describe aircraft and aviation and I could just feel his love of planes. Obviously as a McDonell Douglas employee and air force veteran you would expect him to have an interest in flying but his knowledge was encyclopedic.
Bob lived with five females (well, if you include the two female cats), and so when I became a part of the family it was a bit of a Godsend for Bob. When holidays came we would all get together and have dinner or whatever and then as often happens the women would go and do their thing and then men would go and do something else. For Bob and I that meant going to the basement and having a drink and listening to jazz and playing pool. Somewhere along the way, we became friends.
Bob was a decent pool player and mediocre card player. Also somewhere along the line I had to start sharing my friend with my kids, and my brothers and sister and their kids and parents. The extended family grew as it tends to do and along with my father Bob became one of the elder statesmen. He became one of the revered ones. But the fire never dimmed, and the stories never stopped and the love of jazz never faded.
We discussed current events and politics and Bob wrote his congressman and senators and whether you liked his opinions or not he was active and I consider that a good example. He and I did not agree on everything but generally speaking we had the same views. Bob was articulate and thoughtful and he dearly loved his country. Bob was a true Patriot.
Bob Ament was meticulous and a bit of a perfectionist. Bob went first class or he did not go. He wanted to buy something top of the line that would last. There was nothing second-rate about Bob Ament. He always drove nice cars and was a sharp dresser, although looking back at all of those photos I have to wonder about all of the white pants.
Bob loved the St. Louis Cardinals. He loved food and he and Mary Jo knew all the best places to eat. He could talk about wine. He loved football.
One day in the early 1980’s we were visiting Bob and Mary Jo and Bob was not feeling well. He had a heart attack and we nearly lost him. The doctors fixed him up, Mary Jo put him on a strict diet and he became a walker. I get the feeling a lot of people knew Bob as that guys that always walked past their house. Seeing how he lasted until 2013 I think we have to call that a success. Bob beat his heart attack.
Looking back over the last 35 years I know Bob influenced me. He changed who I am and made me a better person. I cannot begin to understand the loss to my Mother-in-Law; they were best friends for 54 years. I will not attempt to describe that loss. Having lost my Dad a few years ago I can guess at the magnitude of this loss for Stacy and Dana, for me it was devastating. I know Bob’s grandkids, my children, are feeling the loss, as are his brother- and sister in-laws and nephews and nieces and friends. The man cut a wide path through all of our lives.
Whether he was your neighbor or coworker or fellow parishioner, or family member we all will have a little hole in our lives where Bob used to be. Bob lived his life with passion, and he shared that passion with all of us. I think we could all use that as an example to look at those in our own lives and share our passion; let them know you love them.
Thanksgiving and Christmas will not be the same. My daughter was born on Bob’s birthday and we always celebrated them together; that will be hard. I will never go to an airshow or listen to jazz or play a game of pool without thinking of Bob. I really wish Bob were here right now.
But let me be very clear. Bob is not here. He and I discussed death a number of times over the years. He was not being callous, but he was quite clear about one thing. Bob did not care what kind of ceremony we have today, or where or how he was buried, or any of these things, except that we should do whatever comforted us. Bob was a devout Catholic, a Christian, and a person who went to mass on a regular basis. We would talk about death and funerals and Bob would always say the same thing. His body may be with us, but Bob is not here. Bob is in heaven with his brother and his parents and God.
Bob is in heaven and he has left us and his earthly body behind. This is not sad; this is a joyous thing. Bob is in heaven with his Mom and Dad and brother telling stories and jokes and reuniting with his loved ones. Lillian has just gotten one of his famous hugs. It’s now up to all of us to live up to the high standard he set for us. He is gone; now it is our turn.
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