We have met here to give thanks for the life of Emery Arman, our father, grandfather, great grandfather, co-worker, friend, and neighbor, and to acknowledge together that his life has been completed.

Dad was not a church-goer and had no relationship with any clergy, so we thought that rather than have a minister who didn't know him come in to say some generalities, it would be just as well for one of us who knew him to stand here and talk about him for a few minutes. So that's what I'm going to do. And then I will invite any of you who would like to say a few words to do so, and then we'll finish by saying the Lord's Prayer together.

Most of the facts of Emery's life are known to most of us, but I will recite a few of them by way of commemoration. His lifespan of just over a century bridged back to a time that all of us would recognize as "the olden days", to a world much different from the one that we know.

He was born on a farm in Missouri. Times were hard; and when he was very young his family moved to Oklahoma in a covered wagon, looking for better times. Things didn't work out, so they came back to Missouri, just in time for the devastating flood of 1903. He chose to live most of the time with his grandfather, Grandpa Legg, a short distance from his parents. There he learned how to be a farm boy, to work hard, to be responsible, to make do with what he had, to be thrifty, and to do it right the first time. These traits are ones he kept with him all his life.

From the very beginning the Santa Fe Railroad was part of his life. On Grandpa's farm he lived right next to the tracks, and he saw the trains and played amoung them as a child. In the public park at Slaton, Texas, there is an engine on display. When we stopped to look at it a few years ago, he recognized it and remembered it as the one that he rode on when he was a boy. When that engine was brand new it was used as a helper to push trains across the Missouri River bridge while it was being repaired, and the kids would hitch rides on the footboards. Can you imagine children today being allowed to play that way? But they learned to be careful. I'm not sure, but I think the engine is number 1809. I don't remember for sure, but Emery did, because he remembered almost everything.

And he always loved the trains. Whenever I have driven here from he East I have always had to give him a full report on the trains I saw between here and Canyon: how many engines, which way they were going, and what they were carrying.

But life was different back then. Young Emery walked to the one-room grade school. For high school his father bought him a horse, and he rode the horse four miles to school every day through rain, snow and mud, and in four years he never missed a day.

When he graduated in 1915 he went west to work on the Santa Fe, just for the summer, but that summer stretched out into 47 years. He worked in the signal department. At first he filled the signal lights with kerosene and trimmed the wicks. Then he learned about electricity and helped install the signals on the main line through northern New Mexico, Colorado, and Kansas. Later he supervised the signals between Clovis and Belen for 30 years. He was responsible for installing the first CTC here in Clovis in the 1940's. I remember how he struggled, poring over complicate circuit diagrams, but he mastered it and succeeded.

Somewhere along the way he learned to love baseball. He played semiprofessional shorstop in his younger days, and he went back East to the World Series several times. He was in the stands in Cleveland for the 1920 World Series where he witnessed the only unassisted triple play. I wonder if he was the last person still alive who was there that day. Baseball held his interest, and he knew every detail of the 1997 World Series.

I think that the great disappointment of his life was that, as a baseball player, his son had two left hands and six thumbs.

In 1923 he went down to El Paso; there he met and married Teola. They lived together for 71 years, and now they will lie here together, side-by-side. Ellen was born in Bernalillo; I was born in Amarillo, and we came here to Clovis in 1930. Dad loved it here on this stark, windswept plateau, and whenever he came East to visit me in green, hilly Ohio he couldn't wait to get back home. After he retired he and mother traveled all over the Southwest. He loved to drive, to see the countryside, the dams and lakes, and the railroads.

Mother was very active in the Scouts and the Salvation Army and received many awards and honors, but Dad was always there at her elbow, not much in the public eye but always supporting and encouraging her, and in a very real sense, he made her good works possible.

Being suppportive was part of his character. He had a good education for his time, but he realized it wasn't really enough, and he saw to it that his childern received education. He was quiet and self-contained, reserved. He never talked about his feelings or his inner life.

He was creative, always making things from scap. I used to think sometimes, looking at the things he made from parts he had found, that he was a poor mechanic, but when I brought my new wife into the family a few years ago, she exclaimed, "Why, he's a primitive sculptor and these are works of art."

Having grown up on the farm, he loved gardening and always had his fruit trees and a few tomatoes and radishes.

He was a problem solver. He couldn't have lived alone these last few years without his ability to solve problems as they came up. And he was stubborn; he always thought his solution was the best one, if not the only one.

He had a great sense of humor, always telling a joke, or more likely just a humorous story about something that once happened to him, or something one of his friends had said. He had hundreds of these stories and seldom repeated one. To the infirmities of old age he responded not with a complaint and a groan but with a joke and a laugh. I'm sure we could all tell stories about the funny things he said or did, and maybe we will a little later.

In truth there was another side to his character. He could be grouchy and cantankerous, and some of us could tell stories about that too, but we won't. We can bury those stories with him.

We can't grieve on Emery's account. He had a long life and a good life. He achieved everything he set out to do, and had just about everything he ever wanted. To the very end he had his health and his mind, and these gifts enabled him to live with independence and autonomy, making all his own decisions up until a week ago. Even in these last few years he was able to live alone in his own house and with help from some dear and kind friends, whom we greatly appreciate.

We don't grieve on his account but for ourselfs. His passing leaves a big hole, because he has always been here. We all know these holes. We have all lost fathers and mothers, husbands or wives, brothers and sisters, children and friends. These holes are never filled, but they do get skimmed over with time, surrounded by loving memories and legacies of good works.

Life and death are the great mysteries. How and why does life begin? How and why does it end? We know that death is the fulfillment of life, especially death in old age, and is the source of renewal. The dry leaves of autumn fall to make way for the new growth of spring. That is the cycle of nature. But we are not leaves; we are people, each of us unique, special, and loved, and so we are missed. So Emery will be missed, but he leaves behind some wonderful memories.

One hundered years ago today young Emery lay in his cradle and on him lay the hopes and dreams of his family and friends. Now he has fullfilled those hopes and dreams. And we in turn can lay our hopes and dreams on our young, and endow them with some of Emery's legacy of love, humor and good memories.

As we commit his body to the earth from which it came and his spirit to the heavens from which it came, we rejoice in thinking of him as united with his wife, his forebears, his friends who have gone before, and his Creator. We know that so long as any of us lives who knew him, so will live a part of him.

Now as an affirmation of our relationship with all that transcends this life on earth, I invite you to join me, if you will, in praying aloud the simple prayer that Jesus taught us saying Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trepass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.

May he rest in peace.

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