Posted by Michael Chanatry on March 30, 2012:

Fred I. Chanatry 13 April 1927 -- 22 March 2012 On behalf of my mom, my wife Dianne, sons Ryan & Casey, our extended family and me, we'd like to thank you for joining us to celebrate the life of my father. A lot of you probably looking at me say "Gosh, he sure looks like Fred." Well, we are indeed made in the image of the father. But it is much more than looks that defines that image left behind by Dad. It is an image defined by Patience: This was legendary. He corralled a wild western Canadian farmgirl for 60 years. Need I say more? It is an image of Kindness: I remember driving back from a picnic in the Jemez and kind of in a hurry - I think Dad needed to be back home for some appointment. But we noticed someone off the road with a flat; everyone ahead of us had passed them by. But not dad. He stopped to help to get them on their way. His was an image that did not boast nor was self seeking: One of the better examples was with a crazy home movie made when dad was stationed in Killeen, Texas, early fifties. It was a very clever, silent production with dialogue boards; styled after the damsel in distress, a Dudley Do-Right and the Snidely Whiplash villain. But at the end, when the credits flashed all the names, I never saw my dad's. It was his camera, his labor, he made it all happen but all behind the scenes. That was him. He wasn't easily angered and kept no record of wrongs: I don't remember ever much being angry at him, although I'm sure there must have been times. He was a hard guy to stay mad at, didn't get mad himself, not much anyway; so it wasn't a fair fight. I had my moments as a kid. Dad woodshedded me rightfully but in such a way that corrected and forgave. He just moved on. He rejoiced in the truth; a foundational gift -- he taught me about faith, 40 hours devotion; he explained the Blessed Sacrament. He shared his traditions; he always had answers. His spirit inspired me from the start; his prayerful center, the cloak of a godly man. His image always protected. He adopted my older brother, George Sullivan; took him in off the perilous streets of Montreal. Little did I realize it worked to his advantage having a built in babysitter. He always trusted, always hoped, and always persevered. His was an image that never put on airs. His humility may have frustrated at first until you realized it was one of his greatest strengths. He never failed you. He was carrying me thru a department store and we walked by an eye-catching Matchbox car display. I noticed (I loved those things). I may have only said the word "matchbox" as we continued walking. But, a few minutes later, Dad had cycled back around to the display and bought me one. I was puzzled -- "how did I get so lucky"; I wondered why he bought it. He said it was because I didn't make a big deal about wanting one when we passed the first time. Believe me; I kept quiet about anything I wanted after that. Good lesson. His life was well lived, he showed all of us. He lived it. Anyone who knew him can probably recall how he touched their lives in some way. We remember a true man; a husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, friend, officer, realtor, parishioner, classmate. A man who always will remind us of the beauty of a Christian soul and that it was possible to succeed not at the expense of others but in the company of others. He inspired me, challenged me and most importantly encouraged me through all phases of my life. Despite his impressive intellect that seemed no match at times when we'd talk, there was a profound simplicity to him that was equally if not more endearing (plus he taught me how to nap in chairs just about anywhere). So let's summarize. With apologies to Saint Paul: Fred was patient, Fred was kind; he did not envy, he did not boast; he was not rude, was not self seeking, was not easily angered. He kept no record of wrongs; he rejoiced with the truth. He always protected, always trusted, always hoped, always persevered. Fred never failed. He was Love. There were countless other images I'm sure you will conjure up and be reminded of as we leave this place and the earth falls over him. We will hold him in our hearts and continue to call on his noble countenance (oh yeah he taught me about Shakespeare, too). His time on this earth could not last forever; and tho' his body departs his soul it will never. God's Blessings on all of you and many thanks again for celebrating the life of this beautiful man.

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