Posted by Steve Heinecke on August 17, 2004:

Eulogy From Jody's Graveside Service, Monday, 16 August 2004 Welcome to West Point. I?m reminded of General MacArthur?s words to the Corps of Cadets over forty years ago, when he said, ?As I was leaving the hotel this morning the doorman asked me, Where are you bound for, General.? And when I replied ?West Point? he remarked, ?Beautiful place. Have you ever been there before?? This is a beautiful place, and we have been here before. Many of our fondest memories are rooted here, from the fields of friendly strife to the celebrations of graduation, and commissioning. Many of us were married here, had children, and raised families here, Yet, despite these memories and the overwhelming beauty and serenity of this place, a return to West Point is always bittersweet. It is here that we pause, while remembering the good times, to remember and pay tribute to those who are no longer with us. Jody Allan Fink was born December 18, 1953. We recently celebrated the 21st anniversary of his 29th birthday and it was a blast. If any of you need help deciphering that milestone, I?m sure the Head of the Department of Mathematical Sciences will be happy to show you how to use a slide rule for this calculation. Throughout his life, Jody was best known for his friendly smile, genuine sense of humor, enthusiasm for rebel causes, and an infectious talent for mischief. He was competitive almost to a fault. The brief paragraph in the 1977 Howitzer said, ?Where you find action, you?ll find Jody. Regardless of his endeavors, Jody always attracts a favorable review. Behind his friendly eyes lies an iron will, an irrepressible drive, un-bounding self-confidence, and an attitude that can only draw respect from others.? Jody?s sisters, Jill and Jamie, remember boxing matches being staged between Kingsley and Jody, complete with gloves, and Dad as the referee, in the living room. Neither would tell me the outcome, but I?m sure that somewhere Kingsley and Jody are going at it again, in a never-ending battle of brotherly love. During his high school years Jody and his friends would often hang out in the front yard. They?d pull a car up to the bushes in front of the house, and open a trunk full of beer. Jill said her dad always knew what was going on, but never said anything. Jody, meanwhile, carried on as if he was getting away with something by pulling one over on ?The Old Man.? Jamie told me that Jody hid some beer behind one of the bushes in the front yard, and then went out with a bunch of his friends. When they came back later, the beer was gone ? Dad really did know what was going on. Jamie said the friends came back later and left a magnificent toilet paper job that took several hours to clean up the next morning. His sister-in-law Brenda recalls the day over thirty-five years ago, when Jody offered his freshly painted car for her to practice parallel parking. Brenda was hesitant, because Jody was very proud of not only the car, but also the brand new paint job. To Brenda?s horror, within a few short moments of beginning to practice, the paint took on a whole new appearance as she scraped the side of a fence. She got out of the car expecting to see Jody?s temper at its worst. Instead she was greeted with Jody?s humor as they admired the even newer look of the paint job. This is the side of Jody we saw most often. For the Class of 1977, our most distant memories of Jody date to Fort Belvoir and the United States Military Academy Prep School. Even then he was marked as someone to be counted on. Someone to cherish. Someone whose energy was already aimed at doing the harder right. A year later, July 2, 1973, Jody, the Prepster, was the calm the middle of the R-day storm, not at all unlike the eye of a hurricane in Jody?s native Florida. Jody watched the rest of us run through the checklist, and was always there to lend a hand as we scurried about and got ourselves, and our rooms, squared away. Three years later, following the turmoil of a major honor scandal, the class of 1977 was the first in years to experience a company scrambling and cross-leveling. As we, as a class, learned more and more about who said what, and as the allegations continued, Jody was the rock who convinced roommates and classmates that the Army was bigger than West Point, and that we, the Class of 1977, could go on to make a difference as officers. Jody was right, so very, very right. Just recently the class held a mini-reunion to celebrate the 31st anniversary of our entry into West Point. We heard Retired Lieutenant General Sydney B. Berry, our Superintendent, talk about that tumultuous First Class year. Shortly after that reunion, Jody wrote to the class: Stand tall, fellow classmates, and regain the pride and respect that is rightfully ours. The battles waged while we were cadets involved our class because we were strong enough, wise enough, and honorable enough to endure. Over the years we bowed our heads because we did not quite understand the who, the what, or the why of what happened during our watch. Now we know, and now we will reclaim the stature of the highest honor and respect that any class might achieve. Robin and I were fortunate to share most of the past twenty plus years with Jody. I became reacquainted with Jody, and Robin met him for the first time, when we were company commanders in the same Signal Battalion in Germany. The battalion was headquartered in Bremerhaven; Jody?s company was in the next major city south, Giessen. I was in Linderhofe, a wide spot in the road in the middle of no-where half-way in-between. Shortly after taking command, I was the designated host for a commander?s call. This was a get-together for the battalion commander, the four company commanders, and the two detachment commanders. We kicked it off with a social hour at the local hotel/pub. As soon as the battalion commander went to bed, Jody suggested we find a rope, tie it to his door knob, and string it across the hall so he wouldn?t be able to get out of his room, and get everyone else up as well, to go run the next morning. We found the rope, and Jody had one knot tied when we heard this deep rumble in the room followed by a ?Jody, what the heck are you doing out there?? Robin and I spent many weekends visiting Jody, enjoying the Friday night activities at the club, and use the commissary before returning home. It was on one of those weekends that Jody and I decided that the ceramic pop-top beer bottles at the Giessen Officer?s Club were really neat. We wanted to save them, so we started putting the empties in Robin?s pocketbook. You know, one of those pocketbooks as big a rucksack capable of holding most of your earthly possessions. We promptly forgot about it. Then Robin came home from the commissary the next day with a story about looking for the checkbook and having to dig thru a case of empty beer bottles, at the check-out, before she found it. After his change of command, Jody spent a few months at the battalion headquarters as a special assistant to the battalion commander. On his first visit to my company, his car broke down. There he was, in the middle of nowhere, with a broken-down car and no way to get back to Bremerhaven. I agreed to tow him. Little did I know that he would ride the brake the entire 150 plus miles because he didn?t want the rope to get slack. It was in Bremerhaven, on New Year?s Eve, that Jody suggested we toilet paper the Battalion Commander?s house. The following Monday, Jody got to work at the Battalion Headquarters and found bags of damp toilet paper on his desk with a note that indicated he shouldn?t be out getting himself into trouble late at night. Jody and I stayed close while I was in graduate school in Charlottesville. We attended numerous football games together. One year we met in Durham, North Carolina, to watch a Duke-Virginia game. I went out to the concession stand and bought some something to drink. When I got back Jody pulled out a flask and prepared to spice it up a bit. In our total lack of situational awareness we never saw that right across the aisle, taking up the entire section of stands, were the North Carolina State Troopers who had been directing traffic. It was while we lived in Charlottesville that we met Jody and spent a day at King?s Dominion with our son Marc, who was four at the time, Shawn who was six, and Dayna who was also four. It was summertime and quite warm. The kids all wanted ice cream. Robin and I laughed as Jody?s face took on a look of horror as the ice cream melted down the front of the kids? shirts. Every time we passed King?s Dominion since then we?ve asked Jody if he wanted to stop for some ice cream. He was so looking forward to the day he could take his grandson Aidan to Kings Dominion and buy him ice cream as well! Jody had a heart of gold, and would do anything for anyone. A few months ago Jill and Robin wanted to help Jody celebrate that 21st anniversary of his 29th birthday. Jody was in the process of buying a new car, and was planning to give his car to Dayna. He had his heart set on a pick-up. Jody knew that he?d be driving Jill and his niece Allisha around the Washington area with Robin along as a tour guide. Even though it would only be for a few days, Jody opted for the, in his mind, less attractive and more expensive four-door model, because he wanted the ladies to be comfortable in his new truck. That?s the Jody we remember ? always thinking of someone else. In recent years Jody had a fondness for playing National Trivia Network. This is an electronic trivia game played in sports bars across the country. Most of the games consist of a series of fifteen questions, each with five potential answers. Even with this multiple choice format I often insisted that the real answer was 6, ?who cares,? or even 7, ?who gives a bleep.? Yet Jody excelled at these games. His knowledge and intellect, particularly regarding music or older television shows, was awesome. I don?t ever remember a question coming up where Jody didn?t say, ?I know this one.? He often did. Of course, we also frequently sat there when the answers were revealed and looked at him as he read the answers with disbelief because he didn?t recognize any of them. It was while playing NTN the past few years that Jody would talk about his brother Kingsley. He recalled being a receiver on the plebe team during Kingsley?s First Class year here at West Point. Kingsley had a rocket for an arm, and had experienced many dropped passes during his last season. When Jody suggested that he could move up to the varsity because he?d been catching Kingley?s passes for years, the coaching staff told him he wasn?t fast enough. Jody promised to just execute an 8 yard route, catch the ball, and fall down so no one would see him running. It never happened. A corollary to Murphy?s Law states that you?ll always find something in the last place you look. Sometimes, that place is closer than you can imagine. In the early 1980?s there was a popular board game called ?Trivial Pursuit.? Robin and I played it often, with Jody as well as with others. One night when Jody was not present there was a sports question about Army Football. The answer to that question was ?Kinglsey Fink.? Robin and I thought we should pull that card out of the box and give it to Jody. But we misplaced it. Over the course of the last twenty years we?ve been through every question on every card in every edition of Trivial Pursuit that we own, the original Genus edition, which is where we thought the question came from, as well as Genus Two, Baby Boomer, and Sports. We even went thru the Silver Screen edition, but couldn?t find that card again. After the Memorial Service last Tuesday, Jill, Brenda, Robin, and I were standing around the kitchen counter at our home when for some unknown reason I told Robin that with our luck we?d finally find that Trivial Pursuit question. Brenda calmly reached into her pocketbook, and pulled it out. She?s had it for years. If only I?d known. My family remembers Jody as one person who was always there either as a friend, a confidant, a painter, a carpet layer, or just the guy with the hug and the smile. He often shuddered as he called Robin his third sister ? the one who worried about him the most. And yes, Robin?s the one who worried so much that she convinced me to drive, unwillingly at the time, to Fredericksburg ten days ago because she was worried about Jody. We?d often joked that if anything ever happened to him we hoped Chance, his beloved cocker spaniel, would be able to dial 911. How little we knew. My family is ever grateful for the time we had with Jody Allan Fink. We will always remember him. When I look at the half-painted guest bathroom at home this evening, I will remember Jody not being able to finish the job. When I look out the sliding glass window in the kitchen, I?ll see the staked out area where Jody was going to help me build a deck. That deck will be several cases of Miller Lite less expensive now, but the craftsmanship will be nowhere near what it would have been. When the 21st anniversary of my 29th birthday comes, I?ll miss that bit of payback that I know Jody was planning. And Robin will get off even easier when her turn comes. For the past twenty-two years Jody has been part of our family. We?ve enjoyed all of it. The fun, the talks, where Robin was able to make this very private person share his life and goals with her, something he did almost daily through emails, phone calls and visits where he was able to spend time just talking, including his last phone call to her and the message he left the night message for her very late at night a week ago Thursday. To borrow a final phrase from General MacArthur, unhappily, I possess neither that eloquence of diction, that poetry of imagination, nor that brilliance of metaphor to tell you all that Jody meant. But I can say this. Jody, Your work is done. Your Course on Earth is Run. Well Done, my friend, Well Done. Be Thou at peace. I bid Thee Farewell.

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