Dad's Eulogy

This is Dad's eulogy. Terry asked for a copy, so I thought I'd just post it for everyone to read.

I am Larry Cook and I'm here to speak of what my father has been during his time with us.

My Dad, Edwin Lee Cook, more commonly known as Ferd, was born on March 5, 1933, in Rupert, Idaho, second son to Lawrence and Athalee Cook. He has an older brother, Tooter, and a younger sister, Barbara. His family moved to McGill, Nevada, when he was about 5 when his dad was employed at Kennecott Copper in McGill. He attended school in White Pine County, Nevada all the way through the 12th grade. When he was in high school, he drove the school bus from McGill to Ely every day. He graduated from high school in 1952 and began working at Kennecott Copper in McGill. Kennecott Copper was the company that Dad's grandfather, father, brother, uncles and cousins all worked for.

Dad was drafted into the Army in 1953 and married my mother, Villa Barney, while on leave after boot camp. Five days later, he was deployed overseas to Germany, where he was stationed for 18 months. He was honorably discharged from the service in 1955 and was re-employed by Kennecott Copper.

In January 1956 he became employed by Kaiser Steel Corporation as a carrier operator and moved to Fontana, California. He had two children, Terry Ann and me. When Kaiser Steel closed its doors, he became employed at California Steel as a supervisor, where he remained until he retired. Dad made many lifelong friends at Kaiser Steel, and many or you are here today.

Dad was married three times, to Villa, Barbara, and Lois, three of the luckiest women I know. He married Lois in 1983 and was married to her for 25 years. Lois has 8 children who have adopted Dad and he's adopted them, and they'ved extended his family. Lois's children were a blessing to Dad and they loved him and accepted him into their family. Thank you for that.

Dad was the best man I have ever known. I believe that the greatest compliment a man can be paid is to be referred to as a good man. Even great men aren't necessarily good. My father was a good man. He was a good worker and a good provider for his families. His sense of humor was contagious and often he could be silly, especially with smaller children. He enjoyed fishing, hunting, a good snow, a cold beer, and most of the things that the outdoors has to offer. He was an excellent woodworker. He mostly enjoyed this as he got a little older. It was always a pleasure to see him working in the garage as I would drive down Mango in Fontana.

The small town of McGill where he grew up is where he called home for his entire life. Even years later he could still find friends there that he knew and could carry on a conversation like they had seen each other yesterday. A few years ago we were at the McGill Club (a small bar that Dad used to work at when he was a kid) and the owner came up to Dad and asked, "What are you havin', Ferd. How's Tooter?" I was amazed that this man knew my dad and uncle and that they probably hadn't seen each other for years, but Dad and Norm carried on like nothing for quite a while. I found out that they were friends in school and used to pal around when they were young. Small towns are like that. You really never leave. You're just absent for a while.

Dad liked to fish. Bob has been teaching him how for years. It was his favorite thing outdoors. Going with Bob or with Willis was the highlight of the season. Some of my most favorite memories are going fishin' with my dad and uncle to Big Bear. Watching men catch fish is like watching kids swim; they're always having fun.

When the first whispers of fall would roll around, Dad would always get whispy about hunting deer. Now, I have been trying to teach him for years, but he was stuck in his ways. Something about driving around in a truck and shooting them out the window. We spent many hunts together, and the snows of October were always a special time. He would reminisce about hunting with his brother Tooter or with his mom and dad. He once told me that my job was to hunt; his was to tag along for the ride. I was okay with that. A few years ago in Utah, my son Jason was lucky enough to bag a bull elk. When Jason and I got back to camp and told him what we had done, Dad was so proud. He was excited like a kid. You would have thought that we had defeated the whole German army, won the war, went to the moon and back, became president, and punched out Muhammed Ali. That was a great time.

Dad loved to garden. His gardens aren't like most. They are green and lush and have fruit, too. Nothing like mine. As he got older, gardening brought him a lot of satisfaction and pleasure. I'm sure that his plants will miss him too.

Lois brought some pictures the other day. There is one that brought back a particular memory. The picture is of three men -- Dad, Bob and Gene -- bent over with their butt cracks hangin' out. That was a familiar sight when I was younger. The strange thing is, when I was about 12 or so, I wanted a big ass crack too. All the men that I respected had those. I hoped that I would have one too someday. Funny how much I wanted to be like him, hard working, knowing what to do, and a big ol' crack.

Dad was an active member of the Fraternal Order of the Eagles in Fontana for 22 years. He served for 12 years as secretary. He liked to cook there on Friday nights and tend bar and was still working there cleaning up whenever he could.

I have been truly blessed to have had such a loving dad. I can never thank him enough for all of the things he taught me and for all of the wonderful memories he has given me to treasure. Throughout my life, I will honor him by being the best person I can be. He would want me to go on with my life, to be happy and productive, to enjoy watching my own child grow into a good and decent man, and this is what I will do, as I know he is watching over me. He will always be with me, and I thank God every day for giving me the best dad in the world.

I'll always love you, Dad.