the eulogies

NOTICE

George Familant, 90 of N. Falmouth, formerly of Brockton, died on November 7^th at home surrounded by those he loved.  Left behind with beautiful memories of their 64 years of marriage is his loving wife, Phyllis (Pullman).  Cherished father of Lyn Familant, Valerie and Abbey Doneger, and Jean and Jim Bourdon.  Beloved Papa George of Adam, Jason and Amanda and Michael Doneger, Alexander Familant and Sally and Jack Bourdon.  Also survived by his sister Frances Silverstein. 

George was a forerunner in the paper and scrap metal recycling industry, an avid skier, golfer and tennis player and a master craftsman with bird houses being his signature piece. And there was absolutely nothing he couldn’t fix. Above all, he loved nothing more than being with his family. We will miss him very much.

FROM LYN

First, let’s wipe away any tears. George lived a life one would envy.  And let’s not forget; he was 90.  His is a life to be celebrated.  George, or Godge as my mom says, was a great guy, who lived life with no regrets.

And even facing life’s end, my father’s good fortune continued.  His neighbors were there with homemade breads.  My mom received endless offers of help.  The hospice group was incredible.  And the wonderful Cindy.  Having a nurse and friend on-call, to lend help at any hour of the day or night, was a gift.  Thank you Cindy.  And then of course Maria.  The angel my father hand-picked.  He knew quality when he saw it. 

Good afternoon.  I am Lyn, George’s oldest daughter. My dad was happiest surrounded by those who loved him.  So on behalf of my family, I would like to thank all of you for coming today.  He would have loved this.

My father grew up in Brockton.  He graduated high school, attended Bentley College, served in the army, and came back to work with my grandfather at New England Mill Supply Company.  He did all this by age 25.   Then he met Phyllis — an 18-year old beauty from Mattapan with many boyfriends already behind her.  Within nine months they were married. 

My parents had three daughters, myself, Valerie, and Jean.  We grew up in a household with much love, and where dinner was served by Phyllis, every night at 5:30 pm, when my dad returned from the shop, his place of work.  This later became a tradition my mom hoped to preserve, despite protests and negotiations from her grown children and grandchildren for a later dinner time.

My father was surrounded by men at work, but every night he came home to a house full of girls.  Even our many pets tended to be female.

My sisters and I grew up in a three-bedroom house in Brockton,  Much of our time was spent in the finished basement.  It was there my father’s artistic abilities were on display.  He created a mural of musical notes, and it was there, in our finished basement, where my sisters and I played school with the paper supplies and old desks my father brought home from work.    It is also where my parents and us girls hosted parties, where my sisters and I danced to our favorite 45’s, and where we hung out with our latest boyfriends.

The other half of the basement was unfinished.  My father had his workshop there, and it’s where his magical hands fixed anything that needed fixing.  It is also where my father performed his hair cutting services.  Yes, perhaps you didn’t know that about my dad.  He was an expert hair cutter.  Though in truth, it was a service I didn’t much appreciate, and one that usually ended in tears.  Mine.

In 1978, my parents built a home in Wild Harbor and have lived there since.  Though my dad didn’t love the beach, he certainly loved his home.

But that’s the thing about my dad I admired most.  He loved what he had and never regretted what he didn’t have. 

George was not a man who craved possessions, though his cars were a source of great pride.  My father was the one friends would call when they were in the market for a new car.  He always knew the latest models, the best values, and the smoothest-running.  I remember once my dad was in an accident coming back to the Cape on Route 24.  He was hit from behind, but was not hurt.  He was quite shaken though, and called my mom.  He could have been killed.  My dad begins to tell my mom about the accident and says, “I loved…” and she is expecting an uncharacteristic outpouring of his love.  But instead, he finishes the sentence with, “I loved that car so much.”

My father was most proud of his family.  For a strong man who never cried, his eyes would well up every Thanksgiving when he looked around the table and saw his wife, children and grandkids.  He loved watching the Doneger boys on the lacrosse fields.  Or Sally and Alexander getting into trouble at his home.  And in Jack, he finally had someone in his family who had an interest and aptitude for how things worked. 

My father was a good man, and a loving one.  He adored his wife, and never tired of telling people of her beauty.  My parents were young when they married, but apparently, they were very wise. 

Today should not be a sad day.  My dad lived to 90.  Until he was 85, he had never been in a hospital.  He married the woman he loved.  Had three daughters he adored.  Viewed his son-in-laws, Jim and Abbey as the sons he never had.  Enjoyed watching his six grandchildren grow up.  And would have been thrilled to welcome the beautiful Amanda into the family.

My dad lived a long, good life.  He left this world a happy man, content with a life well-lived.  We will miss him.

FROM JEAN

My Dad

Precision!

Not just measure twice and cut once but measure twice, level twice and cut once. His work shop was a magical place where he produced things from cabinetry to a leather bound arm rest for his BMW. That arm rest was so impressive that the BMW dealer wanted to contract with him since that particular year an arm rest was left out from the design for the front seats.

Second in line to his love for his family was his love for his car. Whichever car it happened to be for the next 18 – 24 months.

Did you know there is a precise way to wash a car?  Wash top to bottom, front panels toward rear panels. And………..wipe it down! Once my father was limited on his feet, one day he sat and watched me wash my car as we chatted. Once done he commented, “It is such a pleasure, couldn’t imagine what was coming next, …………watching you wash a car.” My response, “Because it was you who taught me!”

He did nothing haphazardly. He was a student of analysis. A methodically minded being that left nothing up to chance. His rationale loaned itself to one of my favorite expressions of his; ‘It is frustrating living in an irrational world.’

He was an impeccable dresser. He moved with determination. He was direct in his commentary. He loved his family wholeheartedly. All in harmony with precision.

He skied like he invented the sport; vadeling precisely down the mountain on the worst of NE conditions.

Much to his dismay his precision failed him on the golf course.

It was certainly not my mother who taught us all how to drive. My father taught my sisters and me the art of breaking with precision. “Shy of the stop, lift your foot as though there was an egg between it and the peddle and you will avoid the jerking motion. It works every time. Jack is currently the student of this practice.

The past two weeks we saw our dad’s health sharply decline. But in true form he waited patiently. Amanda and Jason got married. Dad returned home from the rehab facility. Hospice was called. He even avoided having his death coincide with Alexander’s 21^st birthday tomorrow . And it wasn’t until Lyn and Valerie joined Mom and I did he finally let go.  His timing was precise.

Dad, We thank you for all the goodness and love you bestowed upon our family and friends. We will miss you terribly.

FROM JIM

George could be grumpy, opinionated and occasionally had a bit of a temper. But he was also a loving, caring and generous father and grandfather and fiercely loyal to his family.

Tennis

One thing he loved to do was play tennis with his friends at Wild Harbor.  He always recruited me to play with him in a “friendly” game of doubles any time Jean and I were visiting.  I would be the rabbit running all over the court and he was the backstop and the referee on which balls were in or out.  George was extremely competitive even with his friends and what would start out as a friendly game often resulted in George arguing over a line call. Of course ours were always in and theirs were usually out.

 He loved those games of tennis and for a man who did not start his sports career until late in life he was a very good athlete.

Golf

Of course the trade off was if I played tennis with him he would have to play golf with me.  We would go to Cape Cod Country Club where we would join his best friend Eddie Kladky.  He loved Eddie and could not talk enough on what a great golfer he was.  Actually Eddie’s golf legend even got bigger long after Eddie died as George would occasional reminisce. 

George would play only a few times per summer but go out each time expecting to par every hole.  And when he would hit a bad shot, he had what you might say a bad temper.  I think some of his cursing would make a sailor blush.   Again he was very competitive but in the end he mostly just wanted to go out to spend time together and talk and share the day.  That’s what kind of father-in-law he was.

Home projects

George as most of you know was famous for his home projects and ability to build almost anything.

Anytime Jean would want something done at the house she would call her Dad.  George was always ready to comply and would bring his tool box, and any specialty tools needed to professionally do whatever the job was.  We once knocked out a wall in our den to make room for a bigger TV set and he didn’t seem to have a plan other than we will figure it out as we go.  I was more than a little concerned when we made such a big hole in our den in the winter with the wind blowing in and no apparent plan.  But in the end he figured out exactly what needed to be done and it came out great.  I was the gofer and he was the director.  I learned a lot from these home projects with George.  But that was the way of George and his generation.  You can do anything with the right tools and determination.

I know George got known as the local handyman in Wild Harbor and although he occasionally grumbled when Phyllis volunteered him, I believe he was very proud of his reputation as the neighborhood go to guy.

Cars-

What can I say, George loved his cars.  He read all about them and loved to debate the merits of this car or that with anyone who would care to discuss the topic with him.

Business Advisor

George was also my unofficial business advisor.  He was always keenly interested in how I was doing and he always had some sage advice on any problem that I was confronted with in my business.  He was a great listener and always provided me with terrific insight and wisdom. 

Family

The most important thing to George was his family.  I never knew anyone who would delight more in being surrounded by his daughters and grandchildren.  To him, family was everything and he particularly delighted in his grandchildren.  He always gave the best speeches at Thanksgiving and they always had the same theme.  That he was so pleased to be surrounded by the ones he loved and that he the luckiest guy in the world to have such a beautiful family.  He would always have the biggest grin when he looked around at a family gathering, not saying a thing, just smiling at those he loved with that big grin.  I know he is looking down at all of us today with that big happy smile.

FROM ABBEY

Good afternoon.  I am Valerie’s husband, Abbey.  I have been in the family for almost 40 years. 

George was a terrific man.  A real man’s man.  No nonsense, straight-forward, opinionated, hard-working, physically strong, mentally tough, and strong in spirit.  He was always very busy working, fixing, playing and doing.

We had a wonderful rapport and George always treated me as a son.  In every conversation through the years, George was always asking about not only Valerie and our boys, but also about my father, my mother, and my sister and her family. 

We also discussed big picture world events, political issues, and our respective businesses.  George was genuinely interested in my business, how our company was doing and how I was doing.

It was easy to discuss business with George as we were always philosophically in sync.  I valued his extensive experience, his practical advice and his common sense approach. 

George was a terrific athlete, loved golf and tennis, and loved to watch boxing.  George and i always clicked except in 2 critical areas – his workshop and his cars.

When Valerie and I got married, George took me to the local hardware store and bought me a toolbox filled with tools.  Perhaps he thought I would develop some level of skill as a Mr. Fix-it.  For those of you who know me, the best I can do is when something needs fixing, is to ask Valerie to take care of it.

George loved his cars and although I do like nice cars, for me, a car takes me from point A to point B, and for George, it was all about what was happening under the hood.  But we did spend a lot of time together with me listening to George talk about his passion.

Most important to George was his family.  He was a wonderful husband, father and grandfather, and took special pride in seeing Adam, Jason, Michael, Alexander, Sally and Jack grow, develop and mature.  He was always so proud of each of you. 

George was a good man, kind man, and a man of integrity with strong values, pride and passion.  He will be missed by us all.

FROM ADAM

Adam’s warm and beautiful eulogy was delivered without notes.

FROM MICHAEL

Papa George… What a tremendous hand-shaker, right? There was like a 3 second time cap to shake that man’s hand or else he was going to break your fingers off. 3 seconds you’re cutting it close. And if you let that thing last 3 and a half, 4 seconds, you knew you were due for a visit to the hand doctor. I swear, he must’ve been part of some competitive, underground handshaking society.

We all know Papa George spent hours upon hours in the basement working on his new creations, like a mad scientist. I remember when I was young, I asked him how he could spend all that time down there alone? “Don’t you get bored”. He looked to me and said, “Michael, up there, I can’t win.” “You can’t win? What do you mean?” “You try having three daughters and wife.”

He was a builder in everything he did. From birdhouses, to mail boxes, to treehouses. But the best thing he ever built was his family.

We’re going to miss you Papa George. We love you. 

FROM ALEXANER

(unedited, as delivered)

Hello everyone, my name is Alexander and I am George’s youngest grandson.

My grandfather George, or as I called him, Papa George, always lived a passionate life.  He took so much joy in helping others.  I honestly never heard him turn down one request for help in his entire life.

When I was in second grade:

“Papa George, can you help me make an awesome spinning top?” –“Sure thing, we’ll go to my woodshop and build five spinning tops.”

When my cousin Sally needed help learning how to drive:

            “Not a problem, I’ll take you for a ride in my care in five minutes.”

When my cousin Jack wanted to learn more about cars:

            “Here, I’ll buy you a monthly subscription to a car magazine.”

When my mom wanted to watch the Tony’s in the living room even though Papa George was already watching a fight in there…

            Okay, maybe he refused to help someone once.

 But seriously, I can’t think of a time other than that where he wouldn’t help someone.  For Papa George, the happiness of those meaningful to him went hand-in-hand with his own happiness.  He was so grateful for everything that he had and he always made it a point to thank and recognize those in his life for even the smallest things that they did.

Today is a sad day me, as in a few hours, we will bury my grandfather.  But at the same time, I can rejoice in the fact that Papa George lived a full and happy life, and he left a lasting impact on all of the people that were important to him.

Goodbye George, we will miss you.

FROM SALLY

My name is Sally and I am my grandfather’s favorite granddaughter. I am also his only granddaughter but he always just called me his favorite.

When I was born, my puppy (I’m not sure why I chose that name for him but it stuck) told me I was special. He always called me special, but would rarely, if ever elaborate. But growing up with 4 male cousins and a brother, he didn’t treat me any differently: Alexander got to go down to the wood shop and use a hammer, I got to go into the wood shop and use a hammer. My brother Jack learned how to wash a car better than a professional; I did too. He never discriminated.

Growing up I wasn’t particularly athletic, or musically inclined, or knee-slappingly funny like my brother and cousins are fortunate to be. As other family members brought home awards or praises, I questioned why I wasn’t I doing the same: I was a mediocre athlete, musically illiterate, and averagely funny (though I laugh at my own jokes). But Puppy never questioned me or expected me to be any thing else.

Instead: He was proud, and would tell me so, of my ability to back the golf cart into the garage, of the care and precision it took. He was expressively thankful for the hand-written notes I would send to him and Grandma on special occasions. He noted when I wore my hair back or took off my glasses for visits with him because I knew he appreciated it.

He cherished these as to him they made me special. His joy and pleasure in all the small things reminded me that I didn’t need to do something momentous to be special to him, myself, or anyone else. But that’s just what my grandfather did. He saw the beauty and the good in even the tiniest of things and helped me realize that it’s those characteristics, which define people and moments. It’s those characteristics that are, as he reminded me only a short while ago, very important and should never be forgotten.

Though my grandfather taught me many lessons, this was one of the most important that I will always take with me. I love you, Puppy, and we will miss you.