I first met Arch Rakestraw a little over 46 years ago on June 1st 1961, in a hospital in Kirkwood, Missouri. It was about 32 years after Arch met Thurman Rakestraw for the first time on a hillside near Mt. Pleasant, Kentucky.
It took about 15 years for me to realize that Arch and I were nothing alike. He had a lot of bad qualities that I did not have. Arch was stubborn, opinionated, loud, and he had a quite a temper. He was also a tightwad, and apparently was not at the class where they teach people how to dress. And what was with that hair?
And over 15 years I think I figured out where he got some of those traits. We would make fairly frequent trips down to Kentucky, and the more I looked at the people we were visiting, the more it became apparent that in many ways these people were just like him. Especially his father, brothers, and sisters, but also his nieces and nephews.
Well, of course I didn’t want any of that to rub off on me, so I decided it was just best if I got out away from this guy and those people that were so like him, and went off on my own to make a better world away from all of that.
It takes time and years for a young man to admit he is anything like his father, and I was no exception. But after a while I did notice that people seemed to think I was not stubborn, but strong willed. Not loud, but assertive. Not opinionated, but straightforward. I was not a tightwad like Arch, but I was thrifty. And what was wrong with the way I dressed, or my hair?
I first met Eric Rakestraw on July 23rd, 1985 at a hospital in Rochester Hills Michigan, about 23 years after I had first met Arch, and about halfway through our 46 year relationship. It was not long after that I noticed that he, and Adam, and Caitlin, and all of their cousins seemed strangely opinionated, loud, and even strong willed.
I guess nobody had ever used the word genetics in 1929, but clearly the things that we all had in common were genetic in nature, and it was then that I forgave my father, and myself, for what are essentially genetic traits that we are stuck with, and have to deal with the best way we can.
Over time, and with maturity, I began to make some other observations. It turns out that my father was a study in contradictions. Sometimes I saw an angry, workaholic Chrysler employee. Then my car would break down and I would call Dad, who would come and take care of it for me. Or I would need a little money to get me by. Or a new air conditioner, or a bed, or whatever. Dad would drop what he was doing to come help.
And it was not just me. People from outside the family would need help, and here came Dad, once again ready to help at the drop of a hat.
And then I noticed that Dad had surrounded himself with good neighbors and friends, and that these relationships were very long-term. Dad was loyal to family and friends. He was kind and gentle with his grandkids. When there were funerals to attend, or someone in the hospital, or someone in need, you can bet that Dad was there.
I started taking another look at this family that my father came from, and it comes as no surprise that my father had some good things in common with his family. All you have to do is look around this room to see Dad’s loyalty, kindness, and generosity in my aunt, cousins, and even his grandchildren. Like him, you are some of the kindest, most generous and loyal people I have ever met.
I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that my 46 years is a short time compared to many of you. My father was the youngest of 9, and so many of my cousins were much closer to Dad’s age than mine. Aunt Sis and others knew Dad for all of his 78 years, and he loved his brothers and sisters dearly.
Of course nobody knew Dad better than Mom, and their 53 years of marriage is another example of his loyalty, or at least stubbornness. Either way, it was clear that Dad loved nobody the way that he loved Mom. He was still Arch, with his anger and bad habits, but we know he loved her more than anything.
Dad gave us all so much over the years, from sharing his money and time to fixing cars and just being there when we needed him. I can’t repay him for all that he did for us, and he never seemed to want to be repaid. I can’t pay you back, but I will do my best to pay it forward.
Dad is with his sister and brothers now, and his dear friends. And somewhere I think Pap and Mam are very proud of their boy.
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