Thursday, July 9th my family and I sat in a hospital room with my father as he took his last breath. He was nearly
91 years old. I tell myself he had a full life and that he said he was ready to go, but that does not ease the pain
of his passing.
Dad was one of the last of a dying breed. He was born in 1918 and grew up on a small family farm. He took over the
farm at the age of 18 when his father passed away, working hard to support his mother and little brother. He farmed
with horses until the early 40’s, when his country called during WWII. He answered the call and served in the Army
for four years. After the war he was able to purchase his first tractor! He also married my mother and had his first
son during the war, and seven more children followed. He had to take night jobs in local factorys to support us,
often working 18 hour days in order to supply his family with what now would be considered a very basic existence.
Dad was not one to spend a lot of time in pursuit of relaxation. He did not have time to take us fishing, on
vacation, or on family getaways until the early 70’s, when he had scratched out enough to buy his first new vehicle,
a truck, and a camper to go with. I was fortunate enough to be the second youngest child, and my little sister and I
did get to go on several family trips with Dad and Mom. He loved the vast diversity of nature in our country, and our
travels where focused on seeing our great country and on visiting far away family and friends.
Growing up during the Great Depression he hunted (and fished some) to feed his family. I believe during this time he
came to really love nature, and was always a steward of the land and resources at hand. He passed this love of nature
and respect for the wildlife on to his children. He taught us to take what is needed, replace what you take, and
never leave the land worse for your efforts. He could identify virtually every tree and plant in the field and wood,
and knew every bird by sight or song.
Seeing the world progress through the 1900’s, dad also became a preservationist of farming traditions and values. It
disturbed him to see wetlands drained, timbers cleared or fencerows removed. Seeing the loss of habitat for wildlife
troubled him greatly, and he did what he could with his land to prevent this loss. Dad had what is now, it seems, a
very rare view of the use of the bounty God blessed us with. While he loved wildlife, he understood the balance of nature
with people as a part of that balance. Taking what was needed from the earth and nature was fine with him, but giving
back or replacing what was taken was just as important.
In his retirement years, dad still worked much harder than most men, cutting firewood, gardening, and maintaining
and restoring his farm kept him very active physically. When illness or injury kept him from working, he would nearly
lose his mind with boredom. I am sure this work ethic is what allowed him to have such a long life.
Always treating people with the utmost respect and courtesy, Dad had a vast array of friends from a lifetime of
being there for those in need. He taught us the value of honesty, integrity, compassion, and love. He was never a man
of many words. I do not recall ever hearing him say “I love you”, but I never doubted his love. He LIVED it. So much
of his life was devoted to caring and providing for his children, yet I never heard him complain about not having
money or time for himself. His family and friends where his world.
So much I have learned from him, and so much more I wish I would have taken the time to learn. I will miss him
dearly the rest of my life. I can only hope to be half the man my father was. Rest in peace Robert Tucker. We love
you!
