Robert W. Oliver

A memorial service was held Friday, November 16, 2018, for Robert W. "Bob" Oliver of Mason, West Virginia. The following remembrances were read respectively by his son, Lance Oliver, and his son-in-law, Chris Houle.

Coach

Thank you for joining us as we remember and celebrate the life of my father, Bob Oliver. Like all of us, he had many roles in life. First as a son and a brother. Parents are always our first and biggest influences in forging our values, so I have to give credit to my grandparents, Chet and Frances Oliver, for raising a son who was ethical and responsible. Maybe a bit of the credit could go to the idealized Westerns he watched as a child, and continued to enjoy his whole life. He watched those old movies and TV shows and emulated the good guys.

His longest role was as a loyal husband for 58 years. Maybe not many people know that my parents first met in a social dancing class in college. For many years, while holding down jobs and raising kids, there wasn't much time for dancing. But later, once Lynne and I were gone and time was a little freer, anyone who saw them cutting up the dance floor at the Moose Lodge probably wouldn't have been surprised to learn where they met.

Then there were his other roles. For me and Lynne, he was a reliable and generous father. He was a teacher for thousands of students. For some of you, he was a golfing buddy, a bowling partner, a friend. And many of you, especially among his friends, just called him Coach. That was another role he played for many years, and one that I want to talk about a little more today.

In a literal sense, he coached baseball, football, basketball and golf at Wahama and Meigs High Schools, but I think there's meaning here far beyond that literal sense.

He started young as a coach. High school athletics were so important in his youth, it was natural for him to continue being involved in that. Right after graduating from Glenville State College, he was back at Wahama, teaching and coaching. The life of a high school coach is not a glamorous one, and I can personally confirm that, as I remember my days on the Meigs High School golf team, with him driving five teenage boys around southeastern Ohio in a van to meets. And that was far from the worst of it.

I remember one story he would tell from his days as a young football coach at Wahama. With Wahama trailing late in the game, he called his last time out to stop the clock. It was fourth down. Last chance. He called an end run and told his running back to be sure to get out of bounds to stop the clock. The play worked well, but to his disbelief the running back ran out of bounds just short of the first down marker. They turned over the ball and lost the game. My dad asked the boy, "Why did you run out of bounds before you got the first down?" The kid replied, "Coach, you told me to get out of bounds. You didn't tell me to get the first down." So if genetics hadn't made him go bald, coaching would have made his hair fall out, anyway.

But aside from his literal role as a coach, I think my father coached us in many other ways. I know he certainly did for me. In these times, when so many use shouting and anger to try to persuade others, or simply want to impose their views on others by force, I still believe that the most honorable way, and perhaps the most effective way, to influence any other person is by setting an example. My father did that in many ways.

For one, he was always generous with his family. Just ask Lynne about the pony or me about the new golf clubs. He also set an example for us that life should be enjoyed and you should have fun, but you also had to work to earn those days off. When there was work to be done, he worked as hard as anyone. It wasn't just that he bought a pony. He also spent most of a summer vacation cutting and setting fence posts and stringing barbed wire for that pony. And then, of course, he still got in quite a few rounds of golf.

He had the courage to act when he felt he had to resign his job over a principle or when labor disputes put his teachers' union out on strike. But again, he took care of his family.

His generosity went beyond monetary things. When my mother wanted a break from teaching and the chance to pursue other interests, to enjoy a city lifestyle for a while, he supported her rather than attempting to restrict her to a more traditional role. It was an arrangement I'm sure raised some eyebrows, but when I saw the commitment they had to seeing each other every week and every weekend, when I saw him getting up before dawn to leave Columbus and get to Meigs in time to teach the first class of the morning, I knew it was nothing I should worry about. Love gives you a boost to take flight. Love does not close you up in a cage to be looked at.

In all these ways, my father was coaching us by example, if we were paying attention. Do the right thing. Be kind. Be generous, especially with your family. Be responsible. Pay your bills and show up on time. Show your love with your support and selflessness. Work hard and then, when the work is done, go have fun and enjoy life. And just as you live your life on your own terms, respect others' decisions and let them live their lives on their terms, according to their own beliefs.

Those were some of the things I learned from Coach. He was coaching us all the time to do the right thing. We only had to pay attention.

In his final hours, my mother talked to him and reminded him of many fond memories, some from before I was born, some as recent as their regular Friday afternoon movie matinees of just a few months ago. She also quoted a line from a poem that her mother used to have on her wall: Life goes on, though good men die.

The world has lost a good man, but life goes on and we can live it by following Coach's example. Be one of the movie good guys. Take care of those who need you. And then, when you've done that, go out and enjoy life, because it doesn't last forever.

Getting to know Bob

I met Bob (Mr. Oliver) for the first time in the summer of 1988, when Lynne brought me home to meet the parents. It takes time to get to know Bob, and in fact we probably did not connect too much that first weekend, except that I could not help notice and appreciate the affection and love he had for his girl, Snickle. Nothing too overt, but as sure as can be. And it was clear that this feeling was mutual. Lynne adored her father.

Also, after my recent four years of college living in a fraternity, I couldn't help but appreciate having a keg on tap in the garage.

The second time I met Bob was Christmas of '88. Lynne and I were flying from Chicago to Columbus and we became engaged during the flight. Bob and Dorothy met us at the gate and were the first to know and celebrate the news with us.

It was after that that Bob and I started to connect. It wasn't about hugs or big slaps on the back or anything like that. It was just that Bob started to include me in things he liked to do, inviting me to go to the Legion or the VFW, to play cards or tennis with friends, even risk asking a hack like me to play golf. I really appreciated it because I got to know him, got to know some of his friends, genuinely good and welcoming people like Ron Logan and Bill Pethel. And over time I got to know something about his family and his history.

I enjoyed these times and always looked forward to visiting Dorothy and Bob on the hill and spending time with Bob. Although we were from two different generations, and it took me ten years or more to stop calling him Mr. Oliver, we became friends.

Then came our boys, Caelan and Luc, Bob and Dorothy's grandkids. The other day when we were pulling together pictures for this memorial, Lynne showed me a picture of Bob holding Caelan for the first time. She pointed it out because it was one of the few times she'd seen her dad break his cool, calm demeanor — he was beaming with a big toothy smile. This is truly a case of a picture telling a thousand words. He just couldn't help showing how much he adored Caelan. And when Luc was born it became double.

Granddad Bob, as he became, loved spending time with the boys, whether it was hanging out by the pool in the afternoon or watching a Western in the evening, each with their own personal bowl of popcorn prepared by granddad. And as the boys got older, Bob would take them to the golf course or bowling, introducing them to everyone he knew, and he knew practically everyone. He was a very proud grandfather. He also took time with the boys to teach them things, like how to shoot a gun or swing a driver, or ride little mini bikes on the hill (though I think Lance might have contributed a good bit to the latter).

When it came to sports, I feel Bob provided a foundational example for our boys. Without preaching or trying to explicitly teach lessons, Bob's tone and observations communicated the importance of fairness, sportsmanship and team. And how it is not necessary to toot your own horn. When Bob had the chance to see the boys play, he'd offer his thoughts on what they'd done well and where they could improve (usually just a few simple words), and I think they appreciated it.

Our boys love(d) granddad.

Bob and Dorothy raised a couple of great kids in Lance and Lynne — independent, honest, straightforward and caring. Who would have thought that these two kids from Pomeroy and Mason would become a journalist and a lawyer, learn new languages, and adventure over the world? Who could have imagined the exciting and interesting lives they would build for themselves? Bob and Dorothy may not have been able to predict how things would follow, but they gave Lance and Lynne the confidence and the spark... and possibly a not-so-subtle hint to get on with it when they moved from their house in Pomeroy to a one-bedroom cabin in Mason as soon as Lynne left for college. And of course their interests went in directions that were different from Bob and Dorothy's, but there's always been overlap: Lance and Dorothy's love for riding motorcycles. Lynne and her dad following college football and every NASCAR race, whether together or from a distance. And they all love to read.

Last thing:

This last summer before we came to the hill to visit her folks, Lynne mentioned that her dad was looking forward to being able to take both Caelan and me to the Moose. Caelan had turned 21 in the spring, so this was the first time he could join us. And of course as soon as he could, Bob wanted to include his grandkids. Last Friday night when we were helping Bob get ready to go to sleep, and I had a few seconds alone with him, I reminded him how Caelan and I really enjoyed going to the Moose with him this summer. He looked my way for a moment and then looked away. I'm pretty sure he got what I said, and knew I meant it. It was special because he wanted us to be there with him... and vice versa.

These simple things, as Bob has shown us, are so important.

Thank you.