Eulogy - Harold Roemelin, Jr.

Yesterday we attended the funeral of my beloved Uncle.  My younger brother was not able to attend, but wrote the eulogy that was read.  Thought some might like the opportunity to see the impact he had on some of us nephews.

Harold Roemelin, Jr.; Bud; or “Uncle Butch” as we knew him had a vibrant personality, a zest for life, and a laugh that came from the gut.   He was typically an affable prankster. 

It would be impossible for me to express my lamentations in regard to his loss.  Through my teen years we were very close and for some time almost inseparable.  In a word, he was not only a mentor but a good friend.  After school I would often flee to join him at his house, and many a weekend we spent together either chasing this or that antique or going to an estate auction.  He was quite gifted mechanically and taught me many things encouraging me to pursue both mechanics and wood working.  He could be given to generosity, and through the years he gave me some of his tools, some of which reside in my tool box and get used quite occasionally but never without a pleasant memory of him and what he taught me. 

The stories are too numerous to recite here, but he never missed a chance for a gag.  Whether taking advantage of a dutiful and obedient child by shooting a hole through his hat after telling him to throw it in the air or putting a hole through a watch, he loved to laugh.  When he laughed it required his entire body, and he often laughed almost uncontrollably.  It was impossible not to join in. 

His mechanical abilities were quite great.  In the military he was promoted to sergeant for having fixed the transmission of a Jeep amidst a war game and then used the Jeep to get back to base in the mock battle.  He understated what he’d done by saying that the fix was not really a big deal but under the circumstances the Army saw it so.  In later years as his children came of age he transferred his love of mechanics to things like go-carts, mini-bikes, and motorcycles, all items that required constant maintenance.  Not only did the use of these teach us how to drive and ride but through them he taught us the principles of keeping things in good repair, a trait he got from his father.  Whether it was replacing chains, sprockets, and clutches or just servicing the machines it set us on the proper course for taking care of such.  He would not tolerate the abuse of a mechanical device. 

He had an avid love for adventurous activities as well.  Canoe trips down the Current River and taking swims at the farm are amongst the great memories for many of us. 

None of this ignores the colossal flaws in his personality.  Indeed, he was a most difficult person with whom to interact.  At work they used to wager on how long a new employee would last under his management.  However, for those who could pry beyond that most inflexible exterior there was an interior that was quite soft.  He had quite a capacity for kindness despite his flaws. 

It was quite painful watching him go downhill so much between visits.  I saw a man who’d taught me so much as a child sit astonished when I fixed the wheel on his oxygen cart because the suppliers couldn’t do it.  It was a task he could have done in his sleep some time before.  That said, I should think that his pain is all over now, and we have hope that he is now where there is no need for a Jeep nor a war game.

Rest in peace my old friend.

His loving nephew,

David Lindow 

I would ask you to continue to pray for his wife and family as they mourn their loss.