My Grandpa was Awesome

My Grandpa was Awesome and he loved all of us, his grandchildren, very much. Period.

That really says it all, but I’ll expand upon this briefly and share some insight into who Grandpa was from the eyes of his grandchildren.

I learned these two facts – that Grandpa was awesome and loved us immensely – at a very young age. My earliest memories involve “the booby trap”. When we were staying over at Grandpa and Grandma’s house, my sister and I would sneak into their bedroom each morning. We would crawl up onto their bed – by this time having certainly made enough noise to wake them – and as soon as we were within Grandpa’s reach, his baritone voice would belt, “Who is that” as he would grab each one of us, put us into a tight bear hug, and hold us there for several seconds. We would laugh so hard as we tried to pry ourselves from his grip, never succeeding. Finally, after a short while, he would “fall asleep” adding a pretend snore for dramatic effect. He’d loosen his grip just enough thereby enabling us to wiggle free and scoot off the bed. “Gosh darnet,” he’d exclaim once we were off the bed and out of his reach, “You Dirty Hound dog” slapping the mattress for emphasis.

We would repeat this process – and he never grew tired of it.

I have much consolation in the good feelings my memories give me. I can clearly picture Grandpa singing as he walked around the house or whistling – he was world class – in the car as we drove to Carroll’s. He loved to play cards with us – hearts, spades, or Gin Rummy. And if you were to beat him, you had to earn it. He’d point at your shirt and say that you had a spot on it, and when you looked down he’d run his finger up your chin saying “Gotcha”. He loved his Miami Hurricanes and Dolphins and took great joy in taking his grandchildren to a game. He was an accomplished storyteller, and you could be almost certain that he would embellish some details along the way. Whenever our friends would meet Grandma and Grandpa, they would always say how lucky we were to have such amazing grandparents.

His sense of humor is one characteristic that made Grandpa a special person. He had an incredible smile and laugh. As soon as one of his grandchildren walked into the room his eyes would light up and he’d have this big toothy grin. A few minutes into a conversation, you would almost certainly be blessed by his laugh. He truly loved to laugh. His ability to laugh at others and himself, to see the absurdity in so much of life is a large part of what made him so Awesome. And someone who can really laugh can’t help but have a sense of what is important in the grand scheme of life.

He did have a strong sense of what was important in life and what was unimportant. Family and his faith in God were at the top of that list. He had a strong moral backbone. He stood for honor, dignity and respect. Although he suffered greatly the last several years – always in pain – he hardly ever complained, at least not to his grandchildren. He served his country, he served his community, and he served his family.

And he loved. He loved Grandma so much. He loved being a parent. He loved being a grandparent. And he loved being a great-grandparent.

From as early as I can remember until the last time I spoke to him, he never hesitated to tell me that he loved me. He never hesitated to tell me that I was special – that I was his favorite (but as my brother Teddy said one time when he was little and Grandpa told him that he was his favorite, “oh Grandpa, you just tell that to all your grandchildren”). We – all 15 of us - were his favorite. Being a grandparent was truly one of his callings in life.

Despite the sadness, we have to be grateful for the 83 years of life Grandpa enjoyed. In his final few months, we all had the chance to tell him how much we loved him as he had family with him around the clock. It was our chance to show this man how much he meant to so many of us.

So, as we gather here in celebration of Grandpa’s life, he would not want us to focus on the sadness of his death, but instead look at the happiness we still have in our lives. He would want us to look at each other, laugh, and appreciate what we have.

So Grandpa, your grandchildren – Joy, Robert, Luke, John, Matthew, Me, Mark, Stephanie, Ed, Lisa, Marie, Jimmy, Julia, Ryan, and Teddy – your honorary grandchildren – Peter, Monica, Erica, Jessica, and Gloria – and your great grandchildren – Olivia, Michael, Caroline, Robert IV, Christopher, and Thomas – we all thank you for your devotion to your family, your humor, your patience, your faith, your life lessons, and your love.

We all love you and will miss you, but you will always be in our minds and heart.

And yes, we do realize how lucky we are.

Father Christmas

In through the Out Door

Thank you for joining us to celebrate Bob Moorman’s life. I’d like to do this by recalling three lessons that I learned from our Dad.

Before starting, I’ll speak to the last couple of months, which I’m sure, you all know was a struggle. The support that was provided by so many family and friends was very important to my father. Mom, your strength through this has been an inspiration for all of us. This was a time when all of my family came together to help care for my father. The burden placed on some, because you happened to be closer, was greater. Thank you for the sacrifices you’ve made over the last several months. Finally, I want to acknowledge the care provided by so many healthcare professionals over the last several months. I won’t name them, but some do stand out for going above and beyond to make my father as comfortable as possible.

Now getting back to “In Through the Out Door”. Most of the things I learned from my father were implicit, through observation. One message that he made sure we all heard explicitly was that sometimes you should just go “In through the Out Door”. Why did Dad think this was an important message? The most obvious part of it was that we needed to think for ourselves – and for someone who had directly witnessed the horror of Kamikaze attacks, he felt deeply about the dangers of letting others think for us.

As I observed Dad over the years and gave this more thought, I’ve come to realize that this approach stands on three legs all of which my father possessed.

First, he knew and deeply valued the difference between right and wrong. This was rooted in his Faith, in the values that he learned from his own parents, and from his strong patriotism and community ties.

Secondly, he always tried to show respect and courtesy to others (I’ll come back to this point).

And finally he recognized the importance of the rule of law. He certainly wasn’t suggesting that we become anarchists – at his core he remained a Marine - and he recognized that there will be occasions where you may have to pay a penalty for going in the out door – although I did see him talk his way out of speeding tickets more than once.

The second lesson I learned from Dad was the value of Frugality. I use the term “learn” loosely here since neither myself, nor my siblings have managed to be as frugal as my father. Also, I didn’t say cheap. Dad was always very generous, but there is no way that he could have raised the six of us and gotten us through college without being frugal. And it not’s like we didn’t have regular extravagances. Every Sunday morning after church we would go to the Coffee Shop in South Miami for breakfast. Dad would announce that we could order whatever we wanted from the menu – pancakes, sausage, juice, eggs – just make sure the total of what you ordered added up to less than 50 cents!

Yes Dad enjoyed the good life as much as the rest of us. Especially after all of us finished with school, he and Mom were able to travel quite a bit. But throughout his life, Dad believed in the value of work, that we should save rather than go into debt, buy quality products and take care of them so that they will last. Sounds like a lesson that perhaps the whole country is re-learning.

Finally I’ll talk about something that I observed in my father, something that he never explicitly spoke about. Connecting with people was clearly very important to my father. This is evident from the number of his great friends. But he also managed to connect with strangers, often in random situations. For Dad, I think this ability was both a gift, and a practiced skill. I think it was a combination of the glint in his eye, his warm and inviting smile, his ability to observe and quickly make deductions about others, and his skill at using small talk and his wit to make others feel comfortable. This established an opportunity to share a bond, if only for a moment.

Certainly, this is part of what made Dad successful in business and as a salesman. But more importantly, Dad made the effort to make these connections because the joy that it gave others – and he took great joy in them as well. As just one example, I recall waiting as my father checked into a motel. The clerk was exhausted at the end of a long shift. It could have been a quick meaningless transaction. I don’t remember what the conversation was about, what I do remember is that at the end, the clerk had a huge smile on her face and the light had returned to her eyes. My father, although he was in pain, was smiling as well.

I’m sure all of you have your own memories of how my father connected with you. And I hope these are what you remember now.

So Dad’s, now its time for you to go out though the In door, the door straight into heaven.

God Bless you. We’ll miss you.

Miami Herald Obituary

ROBERT BERNARD MOORMAN SR., 83

Longtime Gables jeweler

BY ELINOR J. BRECHER
ebrecher@MiamiHerald.com
Date: Oct 4, 2009; Section: Local & State; Page: 5B

Before he met Jeanne Ann Seghers of Cincinnati, Robert Moorman of St. Louis was planning a career as an insurance adjuster.

That all changed after they married in 1950 and moved to Miami, where the tall, blond, handsome Bob Moorman had spent a fun-in-the-sun summer as a tour guide.

Moorman pitched in at his father-in-law’s Coral Gables shop while looking for a job — and never left.

His father-in-law , Carroll Seghers, founded Carroll’s Jewelers in 1946, a cornerstone of the brand-new Miracle Mile.

Long known as ‘‘the store for brides,’’ Carroll’s has provided the sparkle accompanying thousands of popped questions since then.

Moorman ‘‘loved it because it was a happy business,’’ his wife said, and remained a Miracle Mile booster to the end — even as he battled sidewalk expansions and parallel-parking plans.

Robert Bernard Moorman Sr. — father of six, grandfather of 15, great-grandfather of six — died at home Sept. 24. He was 83 and had been in and out of hospitals since suffering a heart attack following back surgery in June.

The Moormans celebrated their 59th anniversary on Sept. 9 in a hospital room.

At the time of his death, Bob Moorman was the longest-serving member of the Coral Gables Rotary Club, according to Gene Mariutto, the retired tile-andgranite contractor who shared his lunch table on meeting days.

For about a half-century, Carroll’s core business was the bridal registry: china, silver and crystal. Anticipating future customers, Bob Sr. and his father-in-law taught tabletop etiquette to girls’ home economics classes at Coral Gables High School.

But as times and habits changed, the registry faded to a sideline. Now, said Bob Jr., jewelry and watches, repairs and design work account for most of the business.

A product of the Great Depression, Bob Sr. was one of a laundry manager’s nine children, two of whom died as infants. He began a seven-decade working life at age 11 as a delivery boy/soda jerk.

He kept offices at both Carroll’s stores, Miracle Mile and Fort Lauderdale’s Las Olas Boulevard, and showed up until he entered the hospital four months ago.

In 1943, the 17-year-old Moorman’s mother signed a waiver allowing her underage son to volunteer for the World War II military.

U.S. Marine Staff Sgt. Moorman saw combat in Europe and the Pacific with the VMF441 Squad, MAG31, according to son Bob Jr.

After the war, Moorman studied law at St. Louis University, where he met his future wife at a dance. They both left before earning degrees — he to work for General Motors’ insurance division, she for Cincinnati, where her father operated the original Carroll’s Jewelers.

Moorman spent the summer of 1949 shepherding tourists around South Florida, with side trips to Havana.

He proposed to Jeanne Ann months later — snowed in during a holiday-season visit to Cincinnati.

Within a year of their wedding, Bob Jr. was born — followed by three brothers and two sisters. Bob Sr. worked six day weeks at the store to send them all to parochial schools.

‘‘He was very frugal and conservative with his money,’’ said daughter Mary Ann Prezzano. ‘‘If you didn’t have the money for something you wanted, you didn’t get it.’’

Still, whenever a civic group needed an auction item or a prize, Bob Moorman reached into a case for something to donate. Son Bob said that for years, he gave every graduating senior at three high schools a key ring.

An American Gem Society Registered Jeweler, Moorman was active in the Florida Jewelry Association, heading committees that set professional standards and policies.

‘‘As corny as it sounds, he taught me about honesty and integrity,’’ said Bob Jr., who runs the Las Olas store.

‘‘Tell customers everything that you know. Keep your word.’’

His brother, Steve, operates the Miracle Mile store.

Bob Sr. reserved Sundays for the family: picnics at Matheson Hammock Park, cookouts, bike rides, the beach.

After morning Mass at the Church of the Epiphany, he’d take everyone to breakfast at the old Tyler’s Restaurant, where the kids could get anything on the menu — as long as it cost 50 cents or less.

Jeanne Ann joined school and civic groups, where ‘‘she acted as Dad’s PR person,’’ said Mary Ann, of Rochester, N.Y. She served on the Coral Gables City Commission in 1990, and remains in the Coral Gables house that the family bought in 1955.

In addition to his wife, sons Bob and Steve, and daughter Mary Ann, Moorman is survived by daughter Patty Sims of Atlanta, sons Mike, of Princeton, N.J., and John, of Miami, sisters Marie Moorman and Jane Jung of St.Louis, and Adele Moorman of Dubuque, Iowa, brothers Joe, of Omaha, Neb. and Tom, of St. Louis.

A funeral was held.

The family welcomes memorial donations to the Epiphany Endowment, Rotary Foundation, or LakayMarie.org.