Last Wednesday two strong men in our community passed to their eternal rest. Both of their deaths were somewhat unexpected, too soon (in my mind, any way), and will leave profound marks.
I considered both to be friends, and have pondered their similarities over these past few days.
Both were men of faith, who lived their faith strongly but quietly. Unlike some “religious” folk these days, neither was going to push his beliefs on you, nor argue about it. Instead, they lived their faith daily, as a quiet example of how it’s done.
Richard Eckman has been a family friend and neighbor for 50+ years. When we first moved here, our house on School Section Lake was very much unfinished. Every night after chores were done, Richard and several other men from the Church of Christ came over to put up sheetrock so we had walls. They did this for many days (seemed like weeks). They didn’t know us from Adam, they just came over to help. And they didn’t expect anything in return.
Music was one of Richard’s greatest joys (after his family, of course). His “Gospel Guitars” and “Richard and Friends” and other groups he was in played at a variety of community events. (Full disclosure: I ever-so-briefly played drums with the Gospel Guitars when I was in high school. That was the beginning and the end of my drumming career.) When he was making music with his family and friends, the joy just flowed from him. He was in his element, and he shared it with everyone at every opportunity. Heck, he even figured out that his cows gave more milk when they listened all day to country music than any other kind of music. No doubt he’s played quite a few gigs already up in heaven.
His passion for flying is another joy he liked to share. He was up -flying his plane, taking off from his hayfield across the road from us, just a few months ago (at age 87). He loved to take people up with him, often doing aerial tricks. (Again, full disclosure, I went up with him a few times.)
Bob Meyerson also was an interesting guy. We never played music together, but we did have some intense philosophical email conversations late at night. He had quite a wry sense of humor.
Bob grew up in New York City, but fell in love with a fellow student at the U of M and he ended up in rural Minnesota. (That’s a story in itself.)
I knew he was wicked-smart, and well-versed in many topics, but I had no idea he had a Ph.D. in Modern European Intellectual History. Wow. I’m impressed. He kept quiet (so far as I knew) about that.
He also kept quiet about his charitable giving. Helping others is a deep theme in the Jewish faith. The giver is as blessed as the recipient by helping others. But none of it is to be done ostentatiously.
When Bob read about the families fleeing war in Ukraine and relocating in our area, he wanted to help. His own grandmother came from an area in Moldova near Odessa where at least one of the families came from.
They needed everything to help get established here, usually arriving with only what they could carry. Bob’s generous gift of cash started a revolving fund at the Church of God in Eden Valley: one family may have used it to help buy a car, then repaid the loan; the next family may have used it as a deposit on an apartment, then repaid it; another family perhaps bought needed furniture, and repaid it. It is literally a gift that keeps on giving! And I know that he didn’t do it for the notoriety: he did it because he felt the need to help, and was blessed in doing so.
Both Richard and Bob are examples of men who lived their faith daily. Without screaming it, or hitting anyone over the head with it. Just quietly living it. Their obituaries are on page 7.
And both were gregarious, truly interesting conversationalists, and fun to be around. We can all do well to be a little more like them.
May both their memories be a blessing.