As told by Drew at Russ’s wake and edited by Kathy
I remember one summer when we drove across country from Massachusetts to Alaska on a stopover in Juneau, my dad passed a man on the street. This person did a doubletake as we walked by and then shrieked with exuberance, “Is that THE Russ Meekins?”
At times Aunt Susan would tell us stories from their childhood about the larger-than-life circumstances my dad found his way into and out of. Riding s moose through the neighborhood, driving a car before his feet could reach the pedals, surviving the Great Alaska earthquake. The stories seemed unbelievable and certainly not possible for the heroic, brave, ingenious person who was about to become my father. I couldn’t be so lucky.
When I was a child, my dad’s desire to be the ideal father was evident in all he did. Night after night he told Kyle and me bedtime stories. He never ran out of well-thought-out plots that linked revolving characters together. It always amazed me how he did this and how he very strategicly kept us glued to every word, eager for the next night’s bedtime story.
After my basketball games, many of which my dad coached, he would always take me to Dunkin Donuts, no matter what. He loved the plain glazed ones and so did I. What I loved more and even more than playing basketball were the conversations we had on the way home from the games, debriefing the games and literally everything else going on in the world, with our box of donuts on the armrest between us.
There wasn’t a car ride my dad didn’t love, whether we were crisscrossing the country on I-90 or I-95 or just driving around Wellesley on a Sunday after church. Tess and Kyle and I regarded our dad to be the best driver in the world with 100% confidence. And my dad was the captain of the car and it was his platform to tell us pertinent thoughts he had at that moment.
My dad found so much passion and purpose in his work as a consultant. He worked hard but he shared the fruit of his work even harder. He was thoughtful, strategic, driven, and gentle. He could be soft spoken at times and also command a room in an instance if he desired. He was smart, strong-willed, angry at those who hurt others, but never ever mean. However, if there was one trait about him that spoke the loudest, it was his generosity. My dad gave advice, encouragement, skills, and resources to all he encountered.
On the many family vacations, we took to Disneyworld, my dad frequently invited friends of mine and my siblings to join. Insisting that they come. They were family to him, too, and he desired to make their lives a little better when he could. And so, on that note, nothing was spared in making the trips as enjoyable and memorable as possible. He gave out room charge cards to ten-year-olds. And endless Mickey Mouse shaved treats and of course my dad’s unyielding ability to stand in line after line despite the fact that I’m sure he hated lines almost as much as he hated roller coasters.
When I was 12, my dad insisted that the time I spent running behind the bleachers at Babson college while my sister took group lessons could be spent in a better way. He was right. 23 years later I’m still on the ice because of his thoughtfulness. At 18, he gave me access to his credit card for emergencies (laughs). He didn’t know my lack of new outfits as going to be considered an emergency when I recently discovered life on Newbury street. Yet, despite the hundreds of dollars I spent, he never once complained or even mentioned it to me.
Coming out to my dad was hard for me to do because I had heard so many horrific stories about my friends coming out to their fathers and the anger, ridicule and even rejection that followed. I was scared to do it and as time passed, my dad and I entered a very awkward stage where we both knew the other person knew. My dad was quiet about the things he didn’t know about. And although there weren’t many topics he didn’t know about; this topic was one of them. So, one night while driving home together in the car, in his own way of acknowledging what we both already knew, he very casually and warmly invited me and my boyfriend to his wedding to Nancy. He not only let me know that I was welcome and whoever I loved was welcome also.
My dad gave me my logical mind, he taught me how to strategize for anything, including how to shoot the moon in Hearts. I also got my goofy, silly side from him to help me find balance between all the planning. He taught me about hard work, fighting for what is right, and so much about politics. He gave me my blue eyes, my big calves, and my athletic prowess. I only regret not getting his beautiful curly hair. He taught me to be generous and how to play chess. And he still beat me up to the day he died. He gave me my love of pancakes and of course, bacon. My dad gave all that he could to me and all that he met.
In the last decade of his life, my dad took on a new passion: golf. He loved to play, and he did so almost every day. My siblings and I have all played with him and bought him all the gadgets that we could. I had no interest in golf, but a deep interest in seeing my dad do something for himself that he loved. As Kyle told you guys, he played golf that morning and he won the day and birdied his last hole. Although I know he would have loved to play another round, he made the most of all the rounds he played up including the last one, just as he did in his life.
Meekins Family Stories 