I attended a funeral today. Art Raschke passed away earlier this week, after battling a degenerative nerve disorder for quite some time. Today I remembered dangerous handling of fireworks, HAM radio, the early days of Prodigy, and volunteer firefighting. I remember him being ‘s boss and friend. I remember having a crush on his oldest daughter back when we went to Higgins Lake. I remember being jealous of the Donkey Kong arcade-game-in-a-table that they had in the basement, and the hot tub.

But mostly, mostly I remembered how my mother and got up and helped when Uncle Art started to have trouble. I remember how they went out to dinner all the time (Hooters, often), how they took him on vacations (to the beach in Florida to ogle girls), and how my father and my mother gave of themselves because a friend was in need. As I understand it, they never asked for anything in return, nor wanted it. When I tell people that my parents are Ward and June Cleaver, it’s to communicate that they have values that belong in the idyllic time of the television 50’s. A time that didn’t really exist everywhere, but somehow did in this little bubble called Shelby Township. When I tell people that my parents are extraordinary people, the very opposite of average, this is what I mean.

One of my father’s best friends’ life was celebrated yesterday, and his passing was mourned today. Today, I remember Art Raschke. Today, I set the goal of living up to my parents’ example.