Good morning. On behalf of my mother and my family. I'd like to thank you all for joining us today to pray for and celebrate the life of our father Joseph Ronaldson. Being here in this church, with all the people Dad loved so very much, and knowing what strong feelings he had for this beautiful church he helped build, I know would have brought him great joy. I'd like to thank Father Joe for being here today to help us with this journey. I'd also like to thank Father Morris for his kind words about Dad; we too, feel we are indeed sending the very best.

Our family has known much tragedy, and prior funerals have been wrought with shock, sadness, and disbelief. Today, however, I wish to emphatically state the ground rules for this ceremony. We are here to rejoice and give thanks for the wonderful life that God gave Herbert Joseph Ronaldson; to pause, and thank God for sharing such a magnanimous, peaceful, and holy man with all of us.

Herbert Ronaldson lived a life that anyone would want. I wish to speak to the grandchildren for a moment. When you are married, the priest gives a blessing, "May you live to see your children's children." Well, think about everything that must go right for that to happen. You must live, then you must find someone that loves you and marry, you must be lucky enough to have children; they must live, and they must be lucky enough to find someone who loves them, and they in turn, must be fortunate to have children. Not only did that happen to Joe Ronaldson, but he lived to see his children's children's children. ( I want to thank Billy for helping in that regard!)

I think that any man, given the choice to trade the life he might lead for the one our father had, would do so willingly. So, let us celebrate the music of his life, embrace the memory of Dad:

• Hugging Mom, singing "She's my Annie, I'm her Joe"
• Dancing with MaryAnn at wedding after wedding.
• Popping nitros, so he could keep dancing at Billy's wedding, only to have his bypass operation two months later.
• Driving 80 mph with both hands conducting Glenn Millers Orchestra, much to the hysteria of his trusted co-pilot Annie, who would give him a shot in the ribs and shout' "Cut it out, you fool! What will the children think?!" Well mom, I was one of the children in the back seat, and we all thought it was great.

A eulogy is intended to portray and paint a simple picture of an individual's life. For our father, this would be an impossible task. His life touched so many people, in so many ways, that I prefer to describe the tapestry that was our father's full, meaningful, and holy life. A tapestry, as you know, is a very large woven depiction of many events, with several themes running throughout. For Dad's tapestry, my themes would be love, devotion, and fortitude.

In much the same way that Al Ronaldson had an uncanny way to make everybody feel as if they were his favorite. Dad had an equally easy way of making you feel forever loved. Doing right by everybody is what he did best, and seemingly without effort. I once asked him how he decided which child to focus his attention in a house of fourteen. He answered simply, "The one that needed it the most." I have three children, and often struggle with juggling the needs of three tender hearts. That he orchestrated and prioritized fourteen is beyond belief. I also queried him as to the key of being a good father. He answered instantaneously, "Love their Mother."

The tapestry would also need several expressions of our father's devotion. Devotion to his children; perhaps an illustration of him coaching, or endlessly attending whatever activity we were involved in; devotion to his wife, and his reason for living, Annie. He never missed an opportunity to caress her. In a whirlwind life of raising fourteen, he never failed to show us who came first. His devotion was also manifest in his religious beliefs. My most vivid memory is that of sitting in church with Dad and watching him fold his hands in prayer, and with complete humility, offer his heart and soul to his Lord. It's very hard to describe for you, but this was a very, very deep part of who this man was.

There's an old Irish story of a father who awakens one morning and climbed a mountain with his child. Upon reaching the top, they gazed out upon the sunrise, and the father asked the child, "Does this please you?" The child answered "Yes". "I'm glad", the father replied. "For if you find happiness in the simple joys that God gives you everyday, you will be forever Happy. If you desire power and money, there's a good chance you will never be completely happy". Dad was always quick to notice and point out the simple God given pleasures in life. No wonder he was always happy.

Not wanting to end on a somber note, I have left fortitude as the last theme for Dad's tapestry. I don't know how many of you have seen the movie Michael with John Travolta as an angel. Well, in one part, he proclaims, "I'm not that kind of angel, I'm the angel that likes to go to battle." Without doubt, there was a great deal of battle in this Irishman. He survived two plane crashes, one rendering him paralyzed for several months. Pause and think about that the next time you have the flu or a runny nose and don't want to get out of bed. Paralyzed for several months... Not only did he get out of bed, but he got out, and raised nine children. There was a lot of fire in this Irishman. Although fifteen years younger and obviously the better golfer, Bill Duggan struggled for ten years to beat Dad, and when he did, you would have thought he won the Superbowl with the furor it created on Kennington Street. But Bill was not alone; all the Ronaldson boys met a similar fate, year after year as they made the pilgrimage to Florida to try to beat the "Ole Man".

In the middle of medical school, I started to regale my father with the hardships I was enduring. He straightened me right out. "Who said life was easy? Did you read that somewhere? I haven't". I might add that for two years while I was in Poland, he wrote me two times a week to make sure the boat stayed afloat. Thanks Dad.

Dad was a great reader. He once pointed out a quote from one of the many novels; it read "Time Marches On". He thought this utterly profound, and at this moment, I understand he was right. He is gone, time marches on, and so must all of us. I'd like to close with some edited verses of W.H. Auden:

We all enter this garden with the same tools and a smiling face. I'm proud to say he left his acre a better place.