Eulogy: Two hearts

At long last, I am publishing the eulogy Patrick wrote for Dad’s memorial service, which was held on Monday, June 10, 2019.

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On display during calling hours and the celebration of Dad’s life: Pat made the quilt as a gift for Dad’s 75th birthday. The family photo was taken during a Caldwell family vacation at Bald Head Island several summers ago. The piece at right was a gift to Dad upon his retirement from Ohio State’s medical center. The cane lying across the front of the stand was made for Dad by a grateful patient.

We Caldwells didn’t trust ourselves to get through a eulogy, so Patrick was recruited. He labored over it for hours and hours with just a few days to prepare. After the service, a friend asked me if I had written it, because I am a writer. But no, this comes straight from Patrick’s heart and mind and affection for Dad. And we thought it was perfect.

Two Hearts

I’m here to try to tell a story. This is my story.

We are here to remember and honor James Hudson Caldwell, MD. He was born March 27, 1939, in Bellaire, Ohio. His parents were Robert M. and Goldie Caldwell. He has a brother, Bob.

He graduated from Shadyside High School and earned his undergrad and medical degree at THE Ohio State University. He skipped grades between elementary and high school and he completed his undergraduate degree in 3 years. He was a gastroenterologist at The Ohio State University Medical Center.

In Columbus, Ohio, on Dec. 22, 1956, Colo the gorilla became the world’s first gorilla born in a zoo setting…

That’s quite a transition.

In the early 1970s, Colo was having GI issues. A call for help and James Caldwell came to the rescue — imagine a shirt with a colon shaped into an S.

Colo was the first gorilla born in captivity and Dr. James Caldwell was the first physician to perform a GI procedure on a gorilla — in Columbus, Ohio, U.S., North America, the world, etc.

Emily remembers that the procedure occurred in the grass: Colo, Dad, and a zookeeper. As the anesthesia began to wear off, Colo gave a little squeeze of Dad’s arm. OK, I THINK IT IS TIME TO END THIS PROCEDURE.

Although he was accomplished academically and professionally, this man saved the life of a gorilla!

He shared with me that one of his greatest regrets was not making the Ohio State University Marching Band as an undergrad. His gait made it difficult for him to march, so he didn’t make the cut.

I’m somewhat surprised that this incident did not lead him to study orthopedics for a few years, just for the fun of it.

He served in the U.S. Air Force in Grand Forks, North Dakota. He was a longtime model train enthusiast.

I also grew up in a small town that had a rail line running through it. So I grew up, possibly like Dad: Windows open in the summer. I would hear, late at night, the sound of the train, coming from somewhere, but also moving on.

That sound, for me, will always take me to that time. The sounds of trains are evocative for me.

Jim was, however, the practical environmentalist: trains and light rail can be an efficient and carbon-neutral form of mass transportation. But he also dreamt of the Caldwell Memorial Monorail that would connect campus and downtown.

I think trains also took him back…

He was a loving husband, father, grandfather, and father-in-law.

For those of you who did not know me in the 1980s or 1990s, I used to have hair…a lot of hair. In 1988, when I first met Dad — Karl Marx, Albert Einstein, Bozo the Clown. I wanted to be Marx. I knew I would never be Einstein. But I think Jim — Dad — probably thought BOZO. And looking back, I can’t disagree.

After college, Emily and I spent some time apart. Emily went to Maine to work as a journalist. She covered George Bush Sr. in Kennebunkport, Maine. (I think her work on the “recycle-gate” controversy led to Bush Sr. being only a one-term president. Ask her about it.)

I went to Kentucky for grad school to study sociology.  The sociology department once gave me an award for having the hair that was most similar to Bart Simpson’s hair. I was still struggling.

Then in early 1994, two hearts began the process of bringing Emily and me back together. They were not our hearts. Jim had a heart transplant. My dad, a quadruple bypass and valve replacement.

We reconnected over our fathers’ hearts.

Later in 1994, Emily and I  got engaged. I’m certain that I spent time with Dad and Pat before our wedding in 1995, but it was at our wedding that I knew Jim loved me.

While Dad was a conversationalist, in 1995, he could be a bit circumspect when it came to verbally expressing emotion. So he expressed his emotions through his actions.

I was crying a bit during our wedding, and couldn’t get to a tissue or handkerchief. I think this touched Jim.

We were married in a barn, on a little stand in the middle. Families facing each other…the Hatfields and Corleones.

When I came off of the stand, he caught me and held me. I will always remember that hug and the love I felt in that moment.

From then on, I was lucky enough to have a second father in Jim.

I had a dad in Ohio in addition to my dad who ended up living in that state up north (O-H…) [Yes, attendees responded with I-O.]

I think Dad appreciates that response.

My mom still roots for the Bucks.

Dad was a Master Gardener.
Dad enjoyed a good meal.
Fish Fest became a Christmas Eve tradition.

At the end of the Fish Fest, at the end of any meal or any visit, we would say it was time to leave, and never go. Dad would start another story or continue with the story he was telling.

We always had more to say, more stories to share. We just wanted to spend a few extra moments together. Even when it was time to go, we wanted to hear one more story.

Dad was born in a small Ohio town.
He loved trains.
He helped save the life of a gorilla and the lives of actual people.
He loved gardening and the environment.
He was always on the lookout for a new restaurant and a good meal.
He gave a great hug.
He was a loving husband, father, grandfather, friend.

He will always be with us when we tell our stories of him.

 

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