On the passing of my father....

This is a blog I wish I didn’t have to write. God knows, I really didn't want to write this.

It is with great heaviness of heart that I announce the passing of my father, Dr. Carl (“Doc”) Crandall.

Dad had a dry sense of humor, and never failed to crack a joke whenever possible. He also was always very involved with us musically, supporting my sisters and I through Drum Corps, various choirs, marching bands, concert bands, vocal ensembles and so forth. In fact, his sense of humor came out when I first became a barbershopper; he paid my first year dues and told me not to tell Mom—and when she found out that he had done so, let us both know what she thought. (She has long since forgiven us; she felt that I should have paid it myself.)

He was born October 30, 1931, and died August 21, 2008. He served in the U.S. Navy, rising to the rank of Lt. Commander prior to his honorable discharge; after his discharge he worked for 30 years as an electrical engineer. He held four earned and one honorary doctorates, three masters degrees, five bachelors degrees, and an associates degree (and those were just the ones we found).

Some knew him as Lt. Commander. He was a man used to following orders when he was given them, and was equally used to having orders followed when he gave them. If space allowed, I could tell you the story of how he “improved” a four lane bowling alley until it was virtually new—with 20 lanes, and all within keeping to guidelines and orders, mind you. He loved and served his country, and believed in duty, honor, and country. He also believed in doing the right thing simply because it was the right thing to do. He instilled those beliefs in all he worked with.

Others knew him as Dr. Crandall. He never flaunted his education; instead, he used it for the betterment of many people. His mind helped a number of people deal with engineering issues that would have sent others scrambling for slide rules and computers. He more often than not did it in his head. There are numerous stories of engineering projects that he got called in on, from North Carolina to Hawai’i, and all over the west coast. He received his Ph.D in 1964.

I won’t go into all his accomplishments, but here are a few that he mentioned in his writings: 1935: Singlehandedly removed dashboard form father’s Model A with a large screwdriver; 1937: Skipped kindergarten and went directly into first grade; 1945: Salutatorian of grade school graduating class, won English prize, overcame stage fright and made first extemporaneous speech; and 1953: Had first date with future wife. He was also a school teacher, studied law and letters, international relations, as well as engineering.

Those that knew him a little better called him Doc. These were the ones that discovered his wicked, dry sense of humor. Limericks, puns, and shaggy dog stories were often told, much to his amusement. I can say that he loved a good joke or quip. He truly loved a good laugh, and always seemed to have something to fit the bill…or the miles.

These were also the people that discovered that he had a large heart, probably too big at times, but always well meaning. He stood for treating everyone fairly, and respecting them not just to be respectful, but respecting them for who they were and what they believed in.

Some called him brother, cousin, uncle, or granddad. Mom was lucky to call him her husband. There are about two hundred or so band, choir, and drum corps folks who called him dad. I was one of three that was lucky, because he really was—and forever will be—my dad.

Dad had a number of other interests. Computers and electrical gadgets and widgets were always being built, taken apart, improved, and rebuilt. He impressed upon us kids the importance of finding something we liked, and following it. Judo, Drum Corps, dance, Barbershop and other forms of singing and music, photography, recording, gadgets and widgets, and even flying. Dad really was multifaceted, and that is reflected in our family.

Dad also firmly believed in education. That’s why all of us went to college. Even mom went on to school; and while they worked in tandem on education (just ask her about flash cards), dad also took interest and pushed us to go on for as much education as we could get. I know he ran interference for me at least twice in high school!

Dad loved a good meal. He loved to grill a good steak, and did so when he could. And if the grill didn’t work, he’d fire up his trusty Bernzomatic blowtorch. Oh, yes—he also loved tools, and had a shop full of them.

Dad wasn’t perfect. Far from it. He didn’t like to have his time wasted on useless things, worthless meetings, and the like. He once ran a unnecessary CVHS Music Booster meeting and completed it in less than ten minutes, my senior year. I brought him dinner that night, I was there for it and saw the whole thing such as it was. He also did not suffer fools gladly. I won’t go into that at all.

He was, however, a man of few words. I suspect he didn’t know just how much he was loved.

Father loved to travel. Places I know he went all over the world (outside of much of the United States, and some of these places he was stationed at) were places like Newfoundland, Scotland, England and Wales, Ireland, Taiwan, Guam, Canada, and Japan. And yet, as much as he loved to travel, he also loved coming home and resting in his comfy recliner after a good meal.

It was the trip to Japan that inspired me to study, informally, much of the Japanese culture—especially the popular culture—over much of my life, a study that continues to this day.

It is with this in mind, and in that spirit, that I leave you with this:

Sayonara, Papa-sama. Yo no nokori, nazenara anata ha anata no heiwa o e ta.

(Farewell, honored father. Rest well, for you have earned your peace.)

Enough for now.
(posted 9/3/08)