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This was my grandfathers Eulogy. I want to share with everyone. A little boy was born to Emma and William Naab in a small groundskeeper’s house on Ryland Farm in White House Station, New Jersey on December 1, 1918. He was named Frank a few days later. He had three older sisters whom he loved, but according to him, they made a little boy’s life rough growing up (always telling him what to do!). While he loved to learn, school was not his favorite thing. He enjoyed being outside and was always figuring out how to make money. He earned himself the nickname “Skunky†because he would trap them and sell the pelts. He even kept a notebook to record anything that his father owed him for services. He was always busy between riding the train to school, managing his trap lines, keeping up with his chores and doing odd jobs. He graduated from high school in 1936 and soon began farming with horses. Shirley was the girl next door. When he had been successful enough to have the money to buy a pick-up truck, he asked her out. They were married on May 9, 1942. Frank continued to farm and they had 9 children together. In the mid 1950’s they moved to New York where Frank took on a new career as a dog handler. Frank and Shirley had successful careers as dog trainers. They also kept beef and dairy cows among other animals. When he decided to retire from dog handling in the mid 1970’s, he expanded his cattle business to include trucking animals for local farmers. He also took up beekeeping and had up to 150 hives of bees. Frank was a skilled farmer, gardener and hunter, so there was little need for items from the grocery store. Honesty and integrity were extremely important to him. He was a very strong man in mind, spirit and body. He effortlessly commanded respect and could do anything he set his mind to do. He was known for his twinkling blue eyes, big bright smile and his quick sense of humor. Sadly, just as they were planning their full retirement, Shirley lost her battle with Lou Gehrig’s disease on April 19, 1989. Not long after that Frank met Edna and they were married on November 27th. They moved to Florida and once they had settled in a house there, he sold his farm in New York. He enjoyed over twenty years of retirement there cultivating his gardens, yard and fruit trees. From Edna: I was privileged to be Frank’s wife for almost 24 years. During that time he often shared with me stories of Shirley, his first wife. Oh! That was a wonderful love affair and I have always been happy that he had this loving relationship with her before we met. He was a widower when we met. Some of you know that story – how he kept coming to my house in Wells Bridge to check on a hive of bees that he had sold me. Then one day my daughter said to me, “Oh Mom, don’t you know- he’s not really coming to check on the bees, but to see you. We were married on a Monday morning in November and left for Florida the next day because he said he hated to think that the wild geese he saw flying South were smarter than he was. He was an instant Floridian. I remember when we were looking to buy a house, I was looking for a big roomy house but he was looking for a big yard. We settled on a big yard and he soon planted it with citrus fruit of all kinds. Every winter, when the fruit was ripe, he would fill Wal-Mart plastic bags full of tangerines, grapefruit, lemons and different kinds of oranges to give away. The charity food baskets our church gave out always had his citrus fruit in them. He was a church-goer. In our early years together he would be found working around our church. He used his talent for woodworking to make beautiful lecterns and bulletin boards for the Sunday school rooms. I want you to know that Frank loved the Lord with all his heart. He always joined in prayer when there was a need for someone, often with tears in his beautiful blue eyes. Even though Frank suffered from old age dementia, I always knew that the real Frank was there inside. I loved him with all my heart and still do. By Edna – Mrs. Frank Naab Anna’s Memory: Daddy always called me "Annie" and would sing "Annie Get Your Gun" to me. I asked him to sing it to me while he was at Bridgewater and he did. I also remember him singing many other songs; "The Old Gray Mare", "Bill Bailey", "You Are My Sunshine", etc. I remember Dad's lesson about not lying when I was about 8 years old. I was in the barn with him, and had taken someone's jackknife (don't remember whose) and had apparently used it on something or he saw me with it. Daddy asked me if I had the jackknife - I lied, "No". Daddy didn't act mad, yell, or spank me; he just explained that he knew I had the jackknife and he was very disappointed that I had lied to him. Then he proceeded to tell me that I shouldn't lie because it is usually found out and you get into more trouble. He took the jackknife from me and that was that, but believe me, I have remembered! However, I'm not telling whether or not I've told a lie since. I think one of the greatest legacies Daddy left to us was his love - such as his love for Mom. As a child I never doubted that they loved each other. They would kiss, make out a little in front of us and tell each other they loved one another. After Mom died Daddy fell in love with Edna, who he married and moved to Florida with. Daddy's love also carried over into his love for Jesus which was not brought to light until later in his life. He told me himself, he knew without a doubt, Jesus was always with him and Jesus was with him especially when he was struck by lightning and almost died. Daddy believed in Jesus and was looking forward to being with Him. From Ellen: Tell one story about dad. One. Impossible. He put mustard on our dolls butts and told us they pooped their pants. They bought boxing gloves for someone for Christmas one year and he would always say "Come on, Ellen. Let's go a few rounds." Those blue eyes just twinkling. I don't ever remember getting punched, but I do remember him telling me that I killed him with the laces because I never tied the laces on the gloves. He talked about his childhood and trips in the buckboard across the plains. I could hear the wheels creaking on that old buckboard. Just then Mom got up and said "Frank, you have to stop telling those kids stories like that. They believe them!" Shoot, couldn't believe those stories?!. Who knew. And here I was hearing those wheels creak. I can hear him calling upstairs at 6 a.m. to say "Hey, Ellen, you want to play some cards?" I would tumble down those stairs and we would sit and play rummy. Mom would get up and say "Frank, what are you doing playing cards? She should be doing school work." Dad's eyes would twinkle as he told her "I'm teaching her Math!" Throwing a pillow at us when the monster was about to appear on the scarey TV program. And the love they had for each other. The way his eyes twinkled when mom said he had the prettiest blue eyes. How lucky we were to have parents who showed us love and affection for each other. They gave us so many gifts. I will treasure him in my heart until I see him again. The card I treasured most from him was the one where he wrote on the bottom of it. He said "I wish you all were little again." I do too, dad. I do too! From Naaby: One of my favorite memories of Dad is coming downstairs in the morning. He and Mom would be sitting at the table and Dad would greet you with a smile and a “good morningâ€. When I was a teenager he would love to open the door at the bottom of the stairs in the morning, crank the volume up on the record player and put on “Reveille Rock†because it caused a few kids to come downstairs grumbling the whole way. We learned about love and working hard from our parents' example. The times Dad dug my car out of a snow bank, plowed my driveway, helped thaw out frozen water pipes plus numerous other times he came to my aid without ever complaining or making me feel it was burden. Dad and Mom babysat my son Eric and in his book they were cool and the best grandparents ever. Love and teasing all wrapped up in a package with a wink that was so fast you were not quite sure he did wink, the best Dad and Grandpa ever. Carol's memory, only one of so many wonderful ones…. When asked for a memory about my Dad, many come to mind but one stands out at this moment. It still fascinates me to this day. When we were kids, we always had wood stoves for heat. The one, which was the main heat source of heat, sat in one corner of the middle room next to the kitchen door. Dad always got up early in the morning and got the fire going. The first thing he usually did was take out some of the excess ashes lying in the bottom of the firebox. I remember watching him do this on many occasions. He would dig around in the ashes, pushing the hot embers aside, and scooping out some of the ashes. While doing this one cold winter day when I was probably 7 or 8 years old he said, "Hey, look what I found!" And there in the ash shovel midst the ashes lay a couple of pieces of perfectly formed chalk, one a bit longer than the other. He picked them out of the ashes, wiped them off, and smiling, handed them to me. My eyes must have been so big with astonishment. They were perfect, how could that be? Chalk was such a wonderful thing to possess at that time, so much fun to be had with it. And then it happened a time or two after that, too. I never saw him put them in there, and I had watched him closely. Over the years as I have taken care of wood fires I have always kept a vigilant eye on the ashes as I have taken them out of the stove or furnace, but, to this day, I have never found any perfectly formed pieces of chalk, not even any broken pieces. Dad was magic and the way he cared for and loved all of his children was magic too. Each of us loved him dearly and by his example learned that simplicity and love were essentials for a good life. From Bill: One of my favorite times spent with Dad was putting up posted signs. Brian and I looked forward to these outings with great anticipation. Dad always picked a day of beautiful early fall weather to take care of this chore. Just the three of us would walk the entire perimeter of the three hundred acres putting No Trespassing signs on trees that had signs nailed to them every year. Brian carried the signs and folded a little triangle on the corners of each sign so it would be double thick and stronger where the nail went through. My job was to carry the old coffee can with roofing nails in it and hand Dad four nails at each tree. As we walked from tree to tree there were animal tracks and scat to be identified and trees and plants to be identified. There was much discussion on what these critters ate, where they live, and where when and how they travel and how the weather affects wildlife. Being the quiet little fella that I was I rarely joined in the discussion but my brain was like a sponge soaking up knowledge being passed from one generation to the next. A lifelong interest in and love for wildlife and the outdoors was sparked. Simple quality-time that helped forge me into who I am today. From Judy: My favorite memories of Daddy are of going into the woods with him; be it to cut firewood, fix fence or run dogs. He loved being outdoors and doing things his own way. It was so nice to spend time with him and learn from him. He had high expectations that you wanted to live up to, but was also tolerant of me being what he termed “a dizzy girlâ€. He didn’t even get mad when I had to twirl each piece of firewood around checking for spiders before I would pick it up to stack it in the wagon. He loved life, he loved his life and he loved having fun. I have many fond memories or him singing silly songs like “I shlipped, I shlid†or role-playing the parts (with all of the various voices) of skits. Road trips were full of silliness, songs and games. He tried very hard to convince me that all those signs for “Falling Rock Zone†were actually markers for the trail that a Native American named Falling Rock had taken many years ago. He played solitaire for many hours and enjoyed chess and checkers. Games always came with lessons in values such as honesty and trustworthiness. He also shared his love for reading, learning and our democracy. He greatly enjoyed good discourse. (That means he liked to argue with me for fun!) History, politics and economics were important to him. Daddy was an intelligent, fun-loving, strong willed, self-made man who always did what he thought was right and what made him happy. His smile lit up the room and he lived his life just the way he wanted to. He never lost his sense of humor, even in his last days, he was making himself and everyone around him laugh……and we will all smile whenever we think of him!