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Robert Vincent Ridenour
West Point, 1945
Be Thou At Peace
Posted by Richard Ridenour on December 23, 2011:
(NOTE: This is the eulogy given by me at Dad's funeral on 12/22/11--it's a little long but captures the man who changed my life) LTC Richard Ridenour, USA, retired
Dear Family and Friends
On behalf of my mom, Marjorie, and my three brothers, Bob, Dave and Mike and their families, thank you for you prayers and support over these past few days. I especially want to thank all those who are involved in today's celebration of my dad's life; Father Holmes and Father Fisher as well as all those who have assisted with planing the liturgy and performing the music. Dad spent so much of his life in church that we wanted to make sure this celebration today would capture his passion for the Lord. For in spite of our sorrow of his death we cannot lose sight of how the Lord blessed him in this life and how, he in turn, blessed others by sharing his faith with them.
Mom and Dad moved here from Florida in 2005 having spent 45 years in the same house and same parish, St. John Vianney, on St. Peter Beach, Florida. Other than family members who have made a truly heroic effort to arrive in VA during one of the busiest travel times of the year, most present today knew my dad indirectly through your association with Diane and myself. So we thought it important to share a little about the man who touched our lives so deeply as well as thousands of others in his lifetime.
From the beginning, Bob Ridenour was no stranger to hardship. Born in 1922, his own father died in a boating accident when he was in second grade, about the time of the start of the Great Depression. He was raised by his mother, Rose, who was thrown into the work force at a time when working women were a rarity in society. They moved to Charleston, WVA where she got a secretarial job. Until she died, at age 45 of cancer, dad helped provide for her. One of the earliest stories of this was shortly after his father died, he would pack his wagon with ice and sell ice cream to their good hearted-neighbors. As he entered high school, the pattern continued. Dad had one and sometimes two paper routes which he did on foot as he never owned a bike nor did his mother ever own a car. By today's standards, he grew up poor.
A major development occurred in his life when an older friend who was like a big brother to him, Ed Griffin, who later became Father Ed, a Catholic priest, convinced Bob to leave the public school and attend Charleston Catholic High School. There was no tuition in those days, it just meant him walking further in the morning, or should I say roller skating as often that is how he went to school. Bob excelled in academics and was co-captain of the football team. In those days, you played both offense and defense. Weighing no more than 130 lbs he played the end position and earned the nickname "scrappy" from the local papers as he seemed to be in every play. Bob was the class valedictorian, beating out Marjorie Rowan, the salutitorian, for the honor.
Did I say Marjorie? Yes, the friendly academic competition turned into something special sometime around junior year. Actually, the first clue was Valentines Day, sophomore year. Mom opened her desk and found a heart shaped box of chocolates. This tradition of dad's candy-giving became legend in our family's history although we observed that in later years he would consume his "fair share" of each box of chocolates given to Mom. Dad had a sweet tooth which showed itself especially around dessert time, particularly when it involved ice cream or cookies.
Upon graduation from high school, Dad was placed on the alternate list for West Point and turned down an appointment to Annapolis in order to attend his dream college, Notre Dame. While a freshman he had two jobs, waiting on tables and cleaning up chemistry labs, but after freshman year he ran out of money and returned home to Charleston to work at Union Carbide. His goal was to attend West Point. During this year at Union Carbide, Dad would teach himself subjects that he did not have in high school (advanced math and physics) but that would be on the entrance exam given by a congressman who would award one appointment to whomever scored the highest on a yearly exam. Dad scored the highest and received the appointment to start school 1942.
When Pearl Harbor occurred Dad went to enlist but was turned back at the recruiting station since he had his West Point appointment already in hand. Dad would graduate in three years from West Point (it was compressed due to the war) and was commissioned in June 1945 a 2LT in the Infantry. His orders read simply: upon completing Infantry Officer Basic Course you will participate in the Invasion of Japan. But before he would head out to Japan, he married his high school sweetheart, Marjorie Rowan on Friday, September 13, 1945. The young couple hopped on a train to California for their honeymoon. Upon arriving in California, Dad boarded a troop ship for Japan and Mom caught a train back to Charleston to live with her parents. They would not see each other again for 30 months. On the troop ship back from Japan in 1948, dad talked with another officer who had been an aide to Gen MacArthur about getting an assignment to the 82nd Airborne. He was making about $175 month, a third of which he sent to his mother. He could use the extra $100 a month that came with airborne pay. The officer said he would look into it and it happened. Dad sent his mother the $100 month he received from airborne duty until she died.
The next six years saw Dad serve two tours in Korea, a tour at Fort Bragg with the 82nd Airborne (Dad was a jump master with over 100 jumps), and a two year ROTC staff tour at Indiana University where he obtained his MBA and where I was born. After his second tour in Korea he was selected for Major and placed on orders for the Command and General Staff College --one of the first in his West Point Class to be so selected. However, Dad knew that, though he loved the Army, he wanted a regular family life more so he decided to resign his commission. It shocked his fellow officers but once Dad made a decision, he never looked back. He served 9 years on active duty, 5 of those overseas, away from family.
Shortly after leaving the Army in 1954, Dad began a career with General Electric. He worked with GE until he retired in 1982. As an electrical/lighting engineer he did well. A pivotal time in his career occurred when in 1960 he was transferred to Tampa, Florida. Encouraged to live in the sister city of St. Petersburg by GE, he and Mom decided to live on St. Pete Beach. The primary reason: they found a parish with a Catholic School that had opening for my brother Bob and me. Find the church and school first, then find the house; that's how Dad operated.
Dad's one way commute to Tampa to his office, was 35 miles; n 1960 that was a long way to travel for a job and the roads were lousy. He traveled east in the morning and west in the evening fighting the rising and setting Florida sun both ways.
When we moved to Florida in 1960, before the Disney Experience happened, St. Petersburg was a slow paced city, known for its retirement community with green benches in the park and Geritol on tap (as Johnny Carson would joke on TV). Mom and Dad had the option to buy waterfront property with a great view but opted instead to buy Church-front property with a view of the church parking lot. They built a 3 bedroom, 2 bath ranch house directly across from St. John's church and school. In hindsight it was not a good financial decision but rather it was a tremendous family decision. My three brothers and I walked to grade school, came home for lunch, and returned to play at the playground after school. We were all altar boys and each of us had summer jobs at the school during our high school years. It was important to Dad that each of us learned to "work like a man" and working outside in the hot Florida sun at St. John under the toughest boss I ever worked for, John Traupman, helped us achieve that. A German who had fled Nazi Germany in the early 1930's, Mr Traupman was as tough as any drill sergeant I ever met. As a side benefit, since all of us worked for him at one time or another, it provided us with an unlimited amount of shared stories about out work under him that grow better with time.
During the years we lived in Florida, 3 times General Electric offered Dad promotions to various cities, Miami, Atlanta, St. Louis, and 3 times he said no. He knew he could never replace with money what he had. While the real estate value of housing is determined by location, Dad knew that he had the best location for the family and was not willing to give that up. Unfortunately, Dad, and numerous older employees, fell victim to one rising corporate CEO superstar, Jack Welsh, who improved GE's bottom line immediately by introducing a new concept in business: corporate "down-sizing". Dad had just received one of his best bonuses ever for the outstanding year he had; however, the decision came from the top and he had to "retire" four years before he had planned. This caused a financial challenge but Dad was ever loyal to GE and never said anything negative about what had happened.
I think Dad saw the Lord's hand in all this for when he left GE, another life began, one that he must have dreamed about for years. When others at his age started spending time on the golf course or going to the beach, Dad started spending time in doing corporal works of mercy; it was in his blood.
Even as a young boy, Bob demonstrated a faith that would change lives. After he passed papers in the early morning, he would serve the 6 AM Mass, walk home and eat whatever there might be for breakfast, and then take off for school and then attend 8AM School Mass. Dad loved serving and took every opportunity he could to be on the altar with the priest. While at West Point, Dad was an altar boy. If you have read the book or seen the movie, "We were Soldiers Once... and Young", the officer featured in the movie, Hal Moore, was a classmate of Dad's who was also an altar boy with him.
At Saint John's, Dad would open the church every day between 5:30 and 6am and then would lock it in the evening around between 9 and 10. He did this for over 35 years till his legs gave out and the Alzheimers began to set in. (Remember the 100 airborne jumps? Dad would have major back surgery later in his mid 50's and then be confined to bed the last 5 years of his life.)
Daily, he would also serve the 6:30 am Mass and act as a lector. When there were no altar boys for funerals, Dad stepped in and served; it was not unusual for Dad to attend Mass 2 or 3 times a day. Dad was an Usher and would often help direct traffic after Mass on Sunday (St. Johns is one of the biggest parishes in St. Pete), He was President of the Saint Vincent De Paul Society for the parish which helped people in need with housing, food, and other required services who lived on St. Pete Beach. There was a list of key phone numbers in the rectory and our house was #1 on the speed dial list. When our Irish priests would return to Ireland for the summer and replacements would come in, the briefing book simply said, "If you are not sure about anything, call Bob Ridenour." Mom recalls once one of the replacement priests coming over shortly after he got the "in-brief" as he wanted to meet this Bob who seemed to run the parish.
When he as not busy at the parish, he was helping out other organizations that he and Mom belonged to. The Cursillo also had a Friday night outreach dinner to the poor and Dad would be one of the first to arrive and last to leave, making sure all the pots and pans were clean before locking the door. He sponsored many men for the Cursillo retreats and attended the regular weekly and monthly meetings of the Tampa Bay Chapter. He also delivered meals to shut-ins once a week, even in the Florida summer heat, well into his last 70's. He and Mom were key leaders in Daystar, an outreach to the poor of St. Petersburg, providing food, clothing, and financial support. Dad was instrumental in getting EWTN, the Catholic network, on the cable channel in St. Pete. He had to testify before the city council which was granting the charter to the local cable provider how important watching daily Mass on the TV would be for shut-ins. During his "busy" retirement years, he also was a advocate for donating blood. He organized many blood drives and personally donated over 11 gallons in these years; that's over 88 visits....that's a lot of blood!
Finally, one of Dad's greatest passions was the Pro-Life movement. As a pioneer, one of his goals was to expand this movement from a Catholic issue to other denominations. He reached out to Orthodox Jews and Protestant denominations in the area. He was quite successful. He also began a one man letter writing campaign to the St. Pete Times on this issue. While initially they did publish some of his 'Letters to the Editor', finally they told him to quit writing as they would no longer publish any more of his letters. So Dad went to plan B: he wrote the NY Times. I am not sure any of his letters were ever published by them,; I would be surprised if they did. That's Dad; he didn't give up easily.
While Dad did a lot for people outside the family, it was his role as husband and father which we saw first hand that will stay with me. Dad was the real deal; he raised 4 boys, especially through the turbulent 1960s, to be men who saw value in our life of faith which they in turn would bring to their families. All of us graduated from Notre Dame, achieving a dream he himself never was to realize. When you have four boys who live across the street from an amazing playground, sports is part of the package. Though baseball was not his game (football and boxing were his sports), he met us at our interest levels. He coached a couple of us in Little League. Dad's style was simple. Go to the library, get a book about coaching baseball, and then bring that knowledge to the game. Thankfully he could rely on teens and other dads who had the skills to help him out but Dad provided the motivation and leadership. He was a great coach, everybody played and winning was not that important. Everyone loved him. During football season, he was our quarterback in friendly brotherly football games....we would run pass patterns or be pass defenders...did I say the competition was friendly? He also was referee when needed. And basketball, well, Dad brought football to basketball. I don't think he ever understood the "concept of foul". We nicknamed him the "train" on the court, a tribute to his style of doing layups. One never got in his way when he had the ball and was headed to the basket. No such thing as taking a charge or an offensive foul. I think one of the happiest days of his life, and mine too, was the Christmas that Bob and I received our biggest surprise Christmas gift: Schwinn bicycles. I still remember how Dad initially struggled, the first time he hopped on mine, to ride it; now I know why.
Above all, though, it was his love for my mom which we all will remember the most. There was never any doubt who was number 1 person in his life, seating her before every meal, and doing anything he could to please her. Mom, in turn, was a great teammate. Many of the activities I describe above she did with him. They loved being together even though Dad's willingness to take on one more thing could have caused a strain in their relationship. They did what they did for the Lord and never sought credit. During these past six years Mom has ever been by his bedside. Whenever Dad was awake, she was there carrying on one way conversations or just watching TV together, especially the daily Mass on EWTN. There's so much more I could say about this relationship, but honestly, I am not sure I could get through it. Suffice it to say, she was with him at the end and the last words he heard were her professions of love and releasing him to the Lord.
My dad was one of the most humble men I have ever met and, if he were sitting in the front row today, would not allow me to relate most of what I have just shared. When he was honored by the Bishop with the first Award of the St. Jude Medal, given to the outstanding parishioner from each parish, Dad's Alzheimers was starting to set in so he never fully appreciated the significance of this award. I think this was the Lord's way of honoring Dad who never sought the spot light for anything he did and would have been too embarrassed to accept it.
I know this is a long eulogy but I wanted to share about Dad as many of his own family here today are unaware of his past. He never talked about himself and I learned much of this from Mom as I was preparing his eulogy. We need to see that there are men like Bob Ridenour who had every reason to be bitter about life, losing his father at a young age and growing up in poverty, having to work as a youth to help support his mother only then to see her die at such a young age herself, never to see her grandchildren, having a honeymoon partially on a train which ended with a 2 1/2 year separation, being "downsized" out of a career he loved, or even developing Alzheimers late in life. In spite of all this, Dad was the eternal optimist, but like the good boxer that he was, he never let life knock him out. Life is not so much about how one deals with success as with adversity; Dad always knew the Lord was with him regardless of the situation.
Now that you know dad a little better, I trust you will understand why there is joy even in the midst of our sorrow... if ever a man longed to be with the Lord and lived his life to that end, Bob Ridenour was such a man. In short, he was the most amazing man I ever met.
We love you Dad, on behalf of all of us, I am proud to salute you.
***There was one more part of his story that was very personal to Diane and me and was just too hard to share yesterday. When we lost our son, Timothy, at six months, Dad was there through it all for us: from the Administrative office at Walter Reed, making arrangements to ship Timmy to Florida, to the funeral, to calling Brett Funeral Home and making all the arrangements for the funeral, to arranging the liturgy for his funeral, even suggesting that Timmy be buried in their Mausoleum space at Calvary cemetery..... Dad made everything happen behind the scenes. I was numb and couldn't think clearly, but decisions had to be made, so he stepped in for me and took on this sorrowful job with love and compassion. Knowing dad, I am sure his heart was breaking too, but he was strong for me when I could not be and I'll never forget him for that.
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