A Tribute To My Father

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The following is a transcript from when I spoke at my fathers funeral:





Larry Stern on Poppy – June 12, 2019

Living in Dubai, I was unable to meet with the rabbi, so my sister did. You'll be hearing some of the same things from me only I'm going to be funnier than the rabbi. Sorry rabbi, nothing personal.



I met dad in August 1965, the 9th to be exact at 7:18 AM. He was 29 years old. . I don't know if any of you saw on Facebook, but an old neighbor posted something about she would always remember him as the candy man because my dad was a candy man. How cool is that to have your father in the candy business?



I didn't really think of it at the time, but we always had candy in the basement, Squirrel Nut Chews. He always said it was the last of the penny candy. It was a hard, rough, nougat candy with little pieces of nuts in it and honestly, it's nasty. Every year we were forced to hand it out at Halloween. "What's this," the little kids would say. "It's candy and it's free. Be on your way, and please don't egg our house."



I remember going to a candy convention where all they did was give away candy, and we came home and it was just a mountain of candy on our dining room table.

One thing that wasn't so good was he smoked like a chimney, Benson & Hedges. I'm sure we smelled horrible growing up and we just never ever realized it. Then all of a sudden he quit. Well sort of, his quitting happened to coincide with what I think was the dog coming down with a severe bladder problem because he always took the dog for a walk because the dog has to go to the bathroom. He wasn't fooling anyone. At least he was trying in any way, and then cold turkey, he stopped for real this time.



When he asked him why, he said it was recently at the doctor, and the doctor gave him his stethoscope, and put his ears in the stethoscope and said,"Listen to that." He said he heard the nasty sound of his lungs. Done, no more smoking. I thought for sure it would be lung cancer that took him.



I'm sure my sister would agree that my dad was pretty tough on us, definitely the disciplinarian and of the family. He always wanted us to do better. "Dad, I got a B plus on the exam." "Why didn't you get an A?" "Dad look, I got an A." "Why didn't you get an A plus." Then I had him. "Dad, I got an A plus." "What happened, no extra credit?" I'm only kidding. I never got an A plus.



Dad always said in high school and college he was more or less a troublemaker. He always described himself as the Jim Belushi character in Animal House. I'm pretty sure he didn't do well, and he never graduated. His dream at one point was to do something medical, but he was pretty sure he wasn't smart enough to ever become a doctor, which is probably why attempted to follow his dreams, and he became a fire, a volunteer firefighter and first responder.



We had scanners in the house all the time. Is that my phone? We had scanners in the house. And at times he would spend a night at the fire house, and then there were times he would

run out in the middle of the night. You'd hear his car taking off through the neighborhood. And when he heard sirens in the distance, he would always say, "There's my song."

Emergency was probably one of his favorite shows. We would watch it as a family. John Gage, Roy De Soto, Dr. Bracket, Nurse Dixie. You would hear the tones. It's squad 51, Engine 51, and the equipment would come run rolling out of the firehouse, and that's when the betting in our family would go on. "Which way would they turn left or right?" That was the excitement in the Stern house, like no other.



I remember one day we were at the pool at the JCC. We were getting ready to leave and all of a sudden we were, "Where's dad?" We turned around and he was on the tennis court. Someone had collapsed on the tennis court, and he was giving them CPR. My dad saved someone's life. Wait until the kids at school hear about this. he saved many lives when he actually realized he could get paid for something that he really loved to do.



His midlife crisis was making a huge career change. He became a firefighter for Baltimore County Fire Department. He became an EMT, and then a paramedic and then at times he would fill in as the paramedic coordinator, which was a pretty cool gig. When he was at a local firehouse he would come home sometimes in the cool paramedic coordinator truck. That's right, neighborhood kids, look at dad. Lights and siren, that's my dad.

Dinner was always fun when he would go into detail, upon detail, upon detail of all the calls he had that day. One thing I could never understand is that my friends always thought he was the funniest thing ever. I'd say, "My dad, seriously? I think he's embarrassing to tell you the truth."



One day he decided it was time for me to learn how to drive a stick shift and apparently he trusted me not to burn out his clutch, so we did the jerking, stalling, stopping, starting for a while until I started to get the hang of it. Then he said, "Let's venture out to Hernwood Heights, and the neighborhoods across the way." I said, "Excellent."

We turned onto her road heading down a hill thinking I'm pretty bad ass. Heading up a hill all of a sudden he yells, "Stop." Startled, I slam on the brakes and I don't worry about the tire screeching because I'm going to go in about 15 miles an hour, "What's wrong?" I said. He says nothing, "Go on," as we sit on a hill facing the up direction. "Your dad is so funny."



I remember as a teenager in youth group, we had this thing where you would sneak up behind another kid who was talking to a group, and you'd pull their pants down, and they'd be standing there in their underwear. We were kids. We were young. We came up with a great name, a de-pantsing. One day, my friend from youth group, Howard Savage, came to the house and he thought it would be funny to de-pants my dad.

My Dad was standing at the sink doing some dishes, wearing some sweat pants. Howard snuck up behind him, and yanked his pants down. My Dad didn't flinch. He just kept cleaning the dishes, pants down around his ankles. What Howard didn't know was about my dad's affinity for not wearing any underwear, so I visit Howard every now and again and the institution he's in.

One thing that dad takes credit for, or blame depending on how you look at it, is introducing Laurie to Steven. It started at his date to the prom, which turned into 32 years of marriage, quite the accomplishment. Of course, he always said, "I invited the guy over to dinner and he never left." I know he always thought of him as a son. They had the fire department connection, so our family dinners somehow always turned into a fire department banter, words we couldn't even understand.



Now I get to the sappy stuff. Poppy loved all of his grandchildren. You always had a special place in his heart. First, Alyssa, she after all established his name. My mother wanted to be called Nana because her mother was Nana and her father was Pop. Well, Pop became Poppy. "Seriously, Poppy? You're not just..." "No." "You're not just Pop? "Nope," so Poppy it was.

became a nurse which made him especially proud. She also basically became his provider since his stroke last July. And then August, his first grandson, a boy, he was so happy. Someone to carry on the Stern name after all. We are the only two Sterns left. Justin had a tough time after high school, but Poppy always knew eventually he would figure it out. And then he became a marine. Poppy was proud to say to everyone, "My son was a United States marine."



Jenna, well Jenna is Jenna. He was proud of her for becoming a Bat Mitzvah, and for graduating from , and then becoming a graduate of the University of Delaware. Emily and Lindsey, he got two granddaughters at once. There they are over there. He got two granddaughters at once. "How will I ever be able to tell them apart?" He said. "Trust me, you'll figure it out." He was very proud of your days as counselors at Gan Izzy, becoming high school graduates, and making the wise decision of continuing your education by going to college.



And then there were his kids, those people he adopted as his kids as they entered the family, Steven, Tracy, and his newest daughter, Jennifer. He loved each of you. And Laura, I'm good so far, his baby girl, he was proud of the woman you became and his provider at the end.

And me, the pain in the butt who became a runner for reasons he would never understand. "How long is that marathon?" He would say. "26.2 miles, dad." "You're running 26.2 miles?" "Yes dad, why?" "Why," he would say. I'd say, "I don't know, 26.1 is too short, and 26.3 would be too far." He said, "Damn, I wouldn't even drive 26.2 miles."



And then of course there was Nana, Tutts as he would call her, his bride of 59 years. They and bantered a lot as parents. She loved him even though he had his short fuse, and sometimes his dumb jokes, but he loved her and she loved him. In the hospital, all he wanted to do was go home and be with her. He was never really a big hugger or a kisser. Other than his mother's funeral, I don't think I ever saw the man cry. Unlike my mother who you put on a hallmark commercial and she's reaching for the tissue box. I rarely ever saw him drink, even though I'm sure he did because he had me to deal with. But, he would buy a six pack and take it to the beach for a week and then he would try to figure out what to do with the remaining five when he's coming back.

There is a lot more I could talk about, how he had to have that spot in the back of the station wagon perfect to fit the cooler for our yearly trip to Ocean City, the 50 plus years trip, the 50 years plus spent going to Castle In The Sand, the Lincoln Town Car he had to buy because Paul was selling it, and the family parties that he would always look forward to every year.

And one thing I know, he would not want people to cry at his funeral, if anything he would want you to laugh, so with that I will end with a joke, but not one of his.



A priest, a preacher, and a rabbi walk into their favorite bar where they would meet together three or four times a week for drinks and talk shop. And in this particular afternoon someone made the comment about preaching to people. That preaching to people wasn't really hard. The real challenge would be, why don't you preach to a bear? One thing led to another and they decided to do an experiment. They would all go into the woods, find a bear, preach to it, and attempt to convert it. I didn't say anything funny yet.



Seven days later, they all came together to discuss their experience.



Father Flannery, had his arm in a sling, he was on crutches and various bandages, goes first. "Well," he said, "I went into the woods to find me a bear, and when I found him, I began to read to him. And well, the bear wanted nothing to do with me. He began to slap me around, so I quickly grabbed my holy water and sprinkled him and Holy Mary, Mother of God, he became a gentle lamb. The bishop is coming out next week to give him first communion and confirmation.



Reverend Bill, and this is the way it was written, Reverend Bill, for Reverend Bill here, Reverend Bill spoke next. He, in a wheelchair with an arm and leg, both in casts had an IV drip. "Well brothers, you know we don't sprinkle. I went out and I found me a bear. And then I began to read to the bear from my God's holy word, but that bear wanted nothing to do with me, so I took total hold of them and we began to wrestle. We wrestled up one hill, down another, up another until we came to a creek, so I quickly, I dunked him. I baptize his hairy soul, and just like that he became a gentle lamb. We spent the rest of the day praising Jesus."



They both looked down to the rabbi who was laying there in a hospital bed. He was in a body cast, traction, IVs, monitors running. He was in bad shape. The rabbi looks up and says, "Looking back on it, circumcision may not have been a good way to start."

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Comments

[Simon Rodberg]

Thank you
This was a beautiful eulogy and a great tribute to your father. May his memory be a blessing; these thoughts help spread the blessing.