A eulogy for “the richest man in town”
What I learned from my father-in-law about joy and love
The final hours of 2022 proved to also be the final hours for my father-in-law Ken. He was technically my wife Ashley’s step-dad, but he married Ashley’s mom when Ashley was 8 years old and was a crucially important father figure in her life. So I’ve come to just refer to him as a father-in-law.
I watched Ken take his final breaths, and though the last couple weeks have been extremely busy and filled with grief, I have had a little time to reflect on Ken’s life. This Christmas season I was forced to watch It’s a Wonderful Life not once, but twice, and the traits of George Bailey—or, more precisely, the things said to and about him in the film—have given shape to my thoughts about Ken. Here are some of those thoughts about the gifts I will carry away from my relationship with him into the future. I hope the lessons will be encouraging to you as well.
An inauspicious first outing
The first time I met Ashley’s Illinois family, we headed straight from the airport to a trampoline park. It was some kid’s birthday. More importantly, it was the first time I met Ken. I asked him what he did for a living, and he replied, “I’m a janitor,” with a big smile but not much elaboration. He was the first janitor I think I ever met. “Cool…” I searched for a helpful follow-up question. “Do you enjoy it?” I muscled out.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” he said warmly. Realizing I didn’t know what to say next, I drifted over to talk to Ashley.
I tried again on the drive home in his pick-up truck: “So what do you like to do in your free time?”
“Camping,” he replied with enthusiasm. “In tents?” I ventured, as it was the only thing I knew (or currently know) about camping. “Not usually,” he explained. “We have an RV, and we like to take it to spend the weekends at a campsite.”
Okay, the conversation was picking up, but the key words like “RV” and “campsite” were just vague images in my mind. I decided a new line of questioning was in order. What might I have in common with this man?
“Do you like sports? Baseball, football, basketball… hockey… soccer??” I only bring up soccer when I am desperate.
“I love Nascar!”
Nope. That was three strikes—job, hobbies, and sports—and in one of those sports we call this a strikeout. I left the encounter slightly dejected, wondering if I would be able to bond with someone so apparently different from me. But Ken was rarely, if ever, dejected.
In the years that followed, I would learn that his unflappable cheerfulness was a feature that ran through Ken’s life, and one of the defining traits he carried into fatherhood. He was not only a janitor, but a night janitor, usually working the graveyard shifts at the colleges or hospitals he took care of. When Ashley was younger, he would rush home after his shifts to attend her school programs or ice skating recitals.
He worked those night shifts pretty much the entire 10 years I knew him, and I never heard him complain about his schedule once.
Understanding Ken
There is one story that I like to tell about Ken, because it is so unique, puzzling, and quintessentially Ken-like. About 5 years ago, we took a family trip down to Disney World to celebrate my in-laws’ anniversary. We had our little nephew with us, so we scheduled a family brunch at one of those character breakfasts. If you haven’t done one of these, it’s basically a normal breakfast buffet experience, but every 5 or 10 minutes some Disney character in costume will walk around to greet the diners at their tables.
This is a nice event for kids, who don’t really know to what extent these characters are real, imaginary, or some combination of the two. So it’s a good chance for photos, as many of the children express delight at seeing their favorite characters up close. The children, and Ken!
During our meal, every time a character walked by, Ken would set down his fork, stand up, and give the character a hug. I watched this, perplexed. Why was this man doing this? To my shame, I was a little judgmental as the scene played out.
But upon further reflection, I came to realize that I was seeing what was amazing about Ken. Those characters (like so many things in his life) brought him joy. He wanted an outlet to express and share that joy with others. A hug is a great way to share joy. And to share love.
This experience, as baffling as it was in the moment, is now my main paradigm for understanding how Ken moved through the world and the lessons I am trying to take from his life. He allowed things—simple things—to bring him great joy, and then because of his love for others, he sought to pass that joy along. This lens on Ken’s personality clicked into place at his funeral service. During an open mic sharing time, person after person recalled how much Ken loved them (and they loved him). He had a lot of joy and love to give, and he gave it.
One of my new hopes and prayers for myself and the communities I inhabit is that we will let ourselves feel wonder, to receive joy and love from unexpected people and places, and to be intentional about sharing that goodness with others. To be a little more like Ken.
It was a wonderful life
At the end of the Jimmy Stewart classic, George Bailey’s brother Harry offers a toast to him—“the richest man in town.” While there is a financial context for this comment, in that the town of Bedford Falls has rallied together to save the Baileys from economic ruin, Harry is clearly not referring to his brother’s bank account. (Besides, the villainous Mr. Potter is objectively the richest man in town.)
Harry refers instead to the riches that matter—the love of friends and family. In that type of economy, George indeed has far more wealth than Mr. Potter. And just in case we would somehow miss this meaning, 10 seconds after the toast, George picks up a book from his guardian angel Clarence with the inscription, “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends.”
Ken had many friends. In fact, he may have been the richest man in town.
