The Disastrous Debut of the Dunlap Quartet: Rick's Tribute

Last, but not least, here is the eulogy presented by Dad's only son, Richard Allen.

=================================================================

Most eulogies are a collection of stories about positive aspects of the departed. I’m going to mix things up a little. I am going to start with a story about one of my dad’s flaws: Dad was a terrible singer!

One of my early memories is of me sitting next to my dad in church with him singing old-timey hymns in an extreme off-key manner. I had to plug my ear to block his singing so that I could attempt to sing on-key.

A Dubious Idea

One day, my family was asked to sing for the outreach program at one of the local nursing homes. We knew that this was a bad idea, but felt that we couldn’t say no.  We dutifully practiced our number, but it didn’t matter; we were still terrible. 

When the time came to sing our number for the old folks gathered, we were all very nervous. Melody played the piano while my Dad, Mom, and I “sang.” Well... Dad started to giggle. The giggling spread to Mom and me despite our efforts to suppress it.  Soon, the giggling spread more widely.  Dad tried to stifle the giggle by closing his mouth, but it came out through his nose... along with some other things which hit the top of my head.  Feeling this, I turned around to glare at him. Dad erupted into laughter, followed by Mom, me, and nearly the entire place.  We were unable to finish our song.

Afterwards, a sweet little old lady told us that she really appreciated our number and was greatly touched by it.  I don’t know if she was just being nice, or if she appreciated the comedy.  

That was the end of the Dunlap Family Quartet. We were not destined to be the next Partridge Family.  On the plus side, though, we were never asked to sing again.

Photo Taken a Year or Two After Our Disastrous Debut
Rick, Amy, Sarah, Melody

Carrying on the Family Line

I come from a long line of one-son families, going all the way back to my great grandfather Arthur Dunlap.  My grandfather Arta used to pressure me to “have lots of sons to keep the Dunlap name alive.”  I didn’t do so well because Diane and I only had one son and one daughter.  My son Mitchell and his lovely wife Michelle, however, did a much better job as they have three boys: Miles, Caleb, and Landon. This made my dad very happy.

Our Family Line: Miles, Mitchell, Caleb, Dad, Me

I don’t mean to imply that my dad loved his son more than his four daughters; he most certainly loved all of his children equally.  Dad was just very old-fashioned and believed that a father has a duty to teach his son how to be a man and father. He fulfilled this duty well.

Early to Rise

Dad believed that a man gets up at an insanely early hour, and that he is at least an hour early for work each day (you never know... you could have a flat tire on the way to work). When I was a teenager, he would literally drag me out of bed far earlier than was necessary and frog march me to the table. He would then talk to me and make me breakfast. I may not have appreciated at the time why he did this, but as I matured I began to understand--although I still don’t like to eat breakfast.

From when I was young and on through engineering school, I was lucky enough to work with my father on many jobs. We seem to be our most relaxed and closest when we were working together.  We carried this tradition on throughout my father’s life through completing numerous projects together.

Staying Active in Retirement

After my dad retired, he kept himself busy with projects, odd jobs, and yard mowing. At one point he was mowing multiple yards in addition to his own and mine.

Ready to Get to Work

Dad would show up to mow my yard at around 5:30 or so and wait in his truck until it was light enough to begin mowing. Diane and I would awake to the sound of the lawn mower before it was even fully light outside.  Dad would be finished with the job around the time I would be having my first cup of coffee. He would sit there with me on the patio drinking coffee and discussing things: current events, sports, family, etc.  These are some of my most cherished memories.

As my dad got older and slowed down, he dropped all other mowing jobs except for his own yard and mine. I frequently asked if he was up to mowing my yard. Up until the end he would always say that he was.

At age 91, he went the the VA for a checkup, and his doctor noted that he was in really good shape for a 91-year-old man. She asked what he did to stay so fit. He told her that he mowed yards. She reacted, “Oh my, Mr. Dunlap, you are far too old to be mowing yards. You should have your son mow your yard.” My Dad said that he was afraid to tell the doctor that he mowed his son’s yard too.

Last year when Dad was 92, I could see that he was struggling to mow my yard, and I asked him again if he was still capable of mowing. He answered that perhaps it was time for him to stop. I knew then that as tough and strong as my dad was, time was finally catching up with him in the end.