[Jeb’s Witness at DJC Sr Funeral the day after Easter 3-24-2008.]

Thank you all for coming today. Your presence here, at the Rosary, and over the past Easter weekend have meant so much to my Mom and our family.

My father always enjoyed a Richard Lopez sermon—short and to the point. In that spirit, I cut this in half.

My Dad did not raise me to correct a priest, so Father Paul, this isn’t a correction so much as a question. Father Paul told us all that we do not have to worry about my father making it to heaven. My brothers and sister were talking about that earlier, and I’m not saying we’re worried. There’s just a question.

It’s now 12:08. Exactly seventy-two hours ago, my brother and I were on the golf course with my Dad. He was handily out-driving, out-chipping, and out-putting both of us on a beautiful Good Friday. I tell you that because my brothers and sister are not sure that 72 hours is enough time for Dad to finish comparing notes with St. Peter at the pearly gates. If not, he’ll be in heaven soon enough.

I was talking to my cousin Ed on Saturday who lost his father, Edward Cashin, last year. We were both with our fathers when they were passing, and we were discussing how it is not obvious exactly when a person dies… when does their spirit leave their body and move on? He said, “It still isn’t clear to me sometimes that my father has left. He created so many waves and ripples, I find I am often being hit by them.”

I thought about my own father’s waves and ripples during Easter Mass.

What waves has my father created? What ripples? I have two wave stories and two ripple stories.

Waves are big things. In his church he devoted almost 40 years helping manage either the finances of Holy Cross or those of Immaculate Heart of Mary. He carefully chose the ministries where he devoted his time. As a Stephen Minister he sharpened his listening skills so he could help others cope in times of duress. He faithfully devoted time to adoration. He took Holy Communion to the sick.

My favorite story about Dad’s faith was when he went through training to be a Eucharistic Minister… someone who helps the priest to distribute communion. When it came time for Dad to hold the Body of Christ in his hand and repeatedly hand it to so many fellow parishioners, his hand would shake so bad, he had to stop. He was overwhelmed by faith.

He also created family waves. After both his father and mother died, he started a family quarterly newsletter called FOPAB. (Family of Papa and Barbadee.) 73 issues were published like clockwork from June 1987 to June 2005. Thank you John Cashin for picking up that wave and passing it on.

There is a folder on my Dad’s computer that my mom, brothers, sister, and I all knew existed. The name of the folder is “Histories.” Inside it are a series of documents creatively entitled 1960, 1961, 1962, etc. He has recorded all events both major and minor in each year. Together they create a rich record of our family history, and we all now have access to a copy. I’ve already read through 1992, and you would be surprised how many of your names appear in the Histories and how many times your name appears. While this isn’t a contest, and I’m not counting, I think Aunt Patsy’s name may appear the most.

I found one document that was not titled with a number. It was called “Fishhouse Punch.” If you know what that means, you were probably there for his extraordinary 70th birthday celebration on Tybee Island. If you don’t, well it’s just as well it is not being served at the reception. You can e-mail me for the recipe.

And then I thought about his four children. Dad and Mom helped create those four waves. They put a lot of energy into Jeb, Carol, Ted, and Grant. We are all waves, carrying on the traditions and values Mom and Dad have passed on to us. And the spouses, Bob, Kathy, and Jami and the happily unmarried Susan– you’ve been caught up in those waves, each of you amplifying them with your own traditions and family values. And each of the nine grandchildren here, you are all waves— Nicole, Danny, Kelly, Mary Claire, Eric, David, Andrew, Fiona, and you Michael [looking around for Michael… someone says Jami took him to the back.. lean into microphone]… Michael… wherever you are… can you hear me Michael? You, like your grandmother, are a tidal wave.

Granddad is a big part of each of you.

What about the ripples?

My father had a real sense of adventure. He was always planning elaborate games, drawing treasure maps, creating unusual lists, and solving puzzles.

He had an annual Easter egg hunt. There were plastic eggs hidden for any grandchild 12 or under to search for. That was Dad’s rule. Usually the hunt was at his house, but sometimes it was at the beach on one of our multi-family vacations. It wasn’t enough to have eggs filled with candy and money, although there were plenty of those. There was always one special egg holding a silver dollar from the 1800s. Mary Claire found five over the years, but because she was 13 this Easter she had to retire, according to Dad’s rules. So Mary Claire and her older sister Kelly hid the eggs for their younger cousins Andrew, Fiona, and Michael. Andrew found the special egg yesterday. An 1898 Silver Dollar– the year Barbadee was born.

I’ll tell one more ripple story. At one of our big family vacations on Tybee Island, Dad decided to draw a map that would lead the grandkids to buried treasure. I remember watching all the kids trying to figure out what were 20 paces west of the palm tree stump and 30 paces north of the seaweed pile. I recall David carrying the map and everyone debating. When they all finally agreed they were in the right place, they started digging.

Suddenly a man came out of a nearby house yelling something about the kids breaking the law and these being protected sand dunes and how the island would erode if we didn’t have these sand dunes. Dad and the grand kids just listened and walked off feeling a little guilty that the treasure hunt might sink the island.

The weather turned cold and rainy, so we all gathered that night inside for dinner, cards, and conversation. But Dad had a plan. Dad always had a plan. He put together a special forces team consisting of Grant, Nicole and Danny. They put on dark clothes and hooded sweatshirts. They got flashlights and Dad’s treasure map. The three of them went into the cold dark night to retrieve the treasure. They were gone a long time. We were getting worried, but suddenly the door blew open and there were the three of them soaking wet, covered with sand, with grins on their faces. They had found the treasure and held it high… a bag cigar box with some lego, toy trucks, a couple of balls. It was like finding gold.

My Dad was a Navy man. He will be interned in Arlington Cemetery. He sailed aboard a giant ship, the U.S.S. Bennington. We were all hit by a big wave last Good Friday and it washed us up here together into his bigger ship, Holy Cross Catholic Church.

When you leave, keep feeling and keep sharing the waves and ripples of Dan Cashin.