Jack Frick’s Funeral

Today we had the funeral. The family got together and talked about the life of Grandpa Jack in the form of an open mic testimonial of the amazing life experiences each of his 7 children shared with him.

Obituary:

John R. “Jack” Frick of McKinleyville, CA, died at home surrounded by family, on July 26, 2011 after a brief illness.

Born in Kansas City, MO to Charles and Margaret Frick, Jack was the youngest of six children. During WWII, he proudly helped build the B-25 bomber and later served as Radioman in the United States Coast Guard.

Meeting his true love and Irish lass at a church picnic, Jack married in 1951, thus beginning his legacy as a loving husband and devoted father. Concurrently, he established a near 30-year-career in Wage Administration for North American Aviation and later, at the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory.

His heart and soul will forever live on with his surviving spouse of 60 years, Catherine, sons and daughters, Ellen, Kevin, Tim, Brian, Teresa, Patty, and Charles, their spouses, sixteen grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.

Jack was a life-long and devout Catholic. The Rosary will be recited at Christ the King Catholic Church, 1951 Mckinleyville Ave., Mckinleyville, Ca. at 7:00 PM Thursday, July 28, 2011 with a Funeral mass at 11:00 AM Friday, July 29, 2011. Arrangements are under the care of Goble’s Fortuna Mortuary, Fortuna, Ca.

Jack.

I’ve been in California the last week. My grandpa (Dad’s dad) started slowing down over the last few months, initially diagnosed as having Dementia. He digressed from walking daily with his dog to having his drivers license taken away to him to sleeping 16 hours a day or more within one month. Eventually he ended up in the hospital after taking a couple of falls, and they discovered a tumor on his brain.

With that diagnosis and declared “days to weeks to live”, I flew out to northern California to see him for the last time. He died today at 11:20 a.m. in his house.

I had the privilege of making some of the most significant memories of my childhood with spending entire summers at his house, wreaking havoc with cousins in and around the surrounding space filled with trees no shorter than 100 feet and the sweet smell of rain and pine.

If there was one thing I can take with me now is his example of developing an enormous appreciation of the simple things, and to be drawn towards those who never have an ill word to say about anybody.

The Zone of Imminent Catastrophe

Our tire ripped apart on the way to Gallup today.

But that’s not even the meat of today’s events. Earlier, I thought I was dead for sure.

In my haste to get to work, I sped past a group of slow cars on the freeway. I got in the far right lane to get to my turn-off, and found myself in a zone of imminent catastrophe.

This type of thing happens all the time; where you see a terrible mishap coming for you (sometimes slowly), but no matter what decision you make, there is no escaping it. I like to relate it to the times in elementary school, when I’d be facing a kid who was kicking the soccer ball, and helplessly watch the ball get bigger and bigger till I’d see stars.

Anyway, on the freeway, a semi-truck with no trailer was clearly losing control. By the time I’d realized that the truck was skidding at a 45 degree angle, he was pointed straight towards me, having sped my car straight into his death zone.

Of course, my initial reaction was to slam on my brakes when I saw the entire freeway at the mercy of this monumental clumsy machine. But that only positioned my little 4-cylinder Honda deep into his magnetized circle of destruction.

But I was lucky. I suppose the anti-sleep auto-pilot must have kicked in and recovered for him. The semi-truck straightened out only moments before I saw the left half of my body swallowed by my car door.

Yeah, that was crazy, but when our work truck started fish-tailing on the way to Gallup, I thought for sure the Final Destination demon was chasing me.