Owen
1912 to 2010
As many of you know, since my Mother died in November, my father has had a very difficult time. Jesus came and took his hand and lead him to his heavenly home on March 27 at 5:20 PM
As part of the celebration of his life at his funeral my daughter's and I were able to share some things about my Dad.
Matthew 22:1-14 and Revelation 7:9-17 were the texts for my father's funeral. In Matthew is the story of the King who invited guests to a wedding banquet, but the chosen guests refused to come. In fact they not only refused to come, the killed the King's son who had come to welcome them. The King then sent his servents to invite everyone else they could find; however, as the King was welcoming his guests, he discovered one person was there who was not dressed properly, and he was cast out of the banquet.
The other text from Revelation is where there was a great group of people all dressed in white, and the question was asked, "Who are they, and where did they come from?" The answer was that they were the ones had come through the great tribulation and who had washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb.
The Wedding Garment
(Janice)
In the story of the Wedding Banquet,
what was wrong with one guest's garment?....
Why was it not acceptable?....
Why was he cast out when he had been invited in?
When Christ invites us to be His,
he washes our worn, torn, dirty, sinful, worldly clothes in his blood,
and gives us His own pure, white, unstained garment to wear.
By his grace, He gives us His Perfect Garment
to cover us that He earned for us
by his death and resurrection.
This is a garment we cannot buy... we cannot earn.
It is given to us at our baptism
or at the time in our life when Christ becomes our Lord and Savior.
No one can take it away from us...
It is a GIFT from God to us.
BUT....we can choose not to wear it.
We can try to make our own garment,
but it will never be "good enough."
Without being covered in the Robe of Righteousness that Christ gives us,
we will always be that person at the wedding banquet
that was not dressed properly.
Dad received his Robe at the time of his baptism.
He shared his faith in Christ by the way he lived and cared
for those he loved and the people God put in his path.
He brought his children to Christ at baptism
and saw that they were taught about God.
We, his family, all know of the many times he has been there for us....
Helping us to build our homes and our lives,
providing a place for us to live,
giving us food and clothing,
fixing what was broken.
He also volunteered many hours of his time
and had a real passion for serving God
by driving handicapped children and their parents
to the Shriners" Children’s" hospital in Chicago
so their broken bodies could be made mended.
But...none of these things earned him the beautiful robe
that he is wearing today
as he stands in the presence of his Heavenly Father.
He has finished his journey through the great tribulation,
and his earthly robe has been washed in the Blood of the Lamb.
He is Home.
Let Me Tell You Why I Named You Owen
(Jenny)
I don't know about you, but I was begining to think that this man was immortal. To have, not one but two grandparents in your life for over 40 years, is truly a remarkable blessing.
My son, Owen, once asked me, "Mom, why did you name me Owen?" Well, let me tell you, Owen, this is why:
You have a great Grandpa, whose name is Owen Stanley Arnos. He was born almost 100 years ago in 1912.
Your great grandpa Owen grew up without a father. His father John died when he was only a tiny 5 month old baby. He did not have a Daddy to show him how to do things and be a Dad himself. But he applied himself and grew up to graduate from high school (Though his grade school report cards consistently noted that he "whispered too much.") and he studied a trade, welding, to provide for his family in a time when graduating from High School was not a given. And, in his quiet way, he was a gentle and loving father to his children.
When your great grandpa Owen was a boy, he fell off the barn roof, got up and walked away unscathed. I once asked him why he was climbing the lightening rod on top of the barn. "Because I was bored I guess," was his answer..."hahahahaha."
Your great grandpa Owen was handy with a hammer. He helped to build your grandma and grandpa Koenig's house. And he cut down many a tree on that property. But he also knew how to make things grow. He farmed for over half of his life in Ohio and in Indiana. In later years, his garden always produced more than could be consumed by any one person--except him. Your great Grandpa Owen ate raw onions like they were apples and laughed about it.
Your great Grandpa Owen was loyal. At Tokeim, he was the union leader during a time when the company was struggling financially. Owen bravely faced the company leadership and worked quietly to put a deal in place that saved the men their pensions.
Your great grandpa Owen was industrious. At one point, he was working three jobs--tending his farm in the early morning, working as welding supervisor at Tokeim Corporation during the day, and doing a government contract welding job in Huntington, Indiana in the evenings. This led to about the only time I can remember Grandpa being sick in the hospital. The doctor told him that he must slow down, and so, in 1976, he retired to Big Turkey Lake in Stroh, where he taught his grandchildren the finer points of hooking worms on a fishing line, driving a pontoon boat, deboning a fish, driving a snowmobile, and more. I am not sure he slowed down one bit.
Your great Grandpa Owen put his family first. After loosing three babies in infancy, he honored his wife's desire for another child by adopting his son Darryl. Even through all the difficulties his children and grandchildren have experienced, he never walked away from them. He only embraced all that life brought his way and faithfully supported them.
Your great grandpa Owen loved his wife, Marguerite, devotedly for 75 years, even after he couldn't hear or see her so well anymore that all they did was shout at each other. And when she died, he couldn't help but break into tears when speaking of her. "Boy did I love that woman," he told me.
Your Great Grandpa Owen lived his whole life with integrity, and faith that Jesus was His Savior.
He was in many ways so unassuming, yet to his friends, he was also the ever popular" Pee Wee," the subject of many a funny story.
Your great Grandpa Owen was determined. He never gave up. Some might call that stubborness, but he fully intended to continue mowing the lawn , cut down trees, shovel snow, drive his car, walk without a walker and do whatever he thougt he should do until long after he should have stopped doing all those things.
For all these reasons, Owen, we have named you Owen. And I pray that you too will be all these admirable things in your life to your family and those who know you.
Just a day before Grandpa died, I thought of him when I found my daughter Zoe had climbed up a bar stool and was crawling around on the kitchen island. Maybe, we should have named her Owen too. She certainly seems to have his DNA.
What I wish most my children could have known about my Grandpa Owen was his lap and his laugh. I will miss them both.
Memories of Grandpa
(Julie)
My mother wanted me to share with you some of my memories of Grandpa.
Some of my earliest memories are of Grandma and Grandpa – or “Mom and Bobby” as I called them when I was just learning to speak.
I remember that Grandpa had a round belly and he laughed a lot. AND he was a pistol. “Ornery” is what we call it in the South.
I remember that he liked to tease Grandma, and though she never let on, I think she liked it too. It was his way of flirting with her.
As many of you know, 17 years ago a job in television took me away from Fort Wayne to my new home in Louisville, Kentucky. During that time, I got married, started my own family of Cockers, Goldens and Labs, changed jobs and went to work on the Kentucky Derby, and didn’t come home nearly enough to satisfy my grandma.
“Why don’t you come home more often?” Grandma would always ask me. Grandpa would just smile and say “Don’t live to be this old!”
(I keep telling my husband that we need to save more for retirement because I will likely live a century based on the genes I’ve inherited.)
The first time I left home was a pretty remarkable event – and one that is indelibly tied to my grandfather.
I’m a hyper-organized person – borderline OCD at times. When I was leaving for college, I carefully packed every nook and cranny of our family’s conversion van with my most precious belongings, my neatly folded clothes, my new television, and everything you could buy in the color “ashes of roses” from Target – I am also color coordinated – for the trip to DePauw University. This was a big van, and I had everything laid out perfectly.
As luck would have it, the morning Mom, Dad and I were to depart --- the engine of the conversion van had already departed…to motor heaven.
Not to worry – Grandpa to the rescue.
In superhero fashion, within an hour, he showed up with his old white pick-up truck. I went inside to tell Mom that this wasn’t a suitable alternative. In the five minutes I was gone, Grandpa had jammed every last item into the back of that very rusty truck bed. Even the perfect, cream-colored Easter dress Mom had so carefully smocked for me.
I was in a state of shock. I don’t think I spoke the entire three hours it took to get to campus. But thanks to Grandpa, I was more freaked out about the state of my clothing than being the first grandchild to leave home for college…and that turned out to be a very helpful distraction.
Some of my favorite childhood memories are of Grandma and Grandpa and the farm, where Mom, Dad and I lived while we were building the house we all grew up in near Huntertown.
I remember how big their house seemed, the way the barn smelled and how Grandpa never let me go up in the hay loft because the wood was old up there and I might fall through…at least, that’s the story I got…
I remember a horse named Buckshot and a rat terrier named Trixie and riding my tricycle on the sidewalk while Grandpa made sure I didn’t tip over.
I remember swinging from the Willow tree (Grandpa didn’t like that) and the cowboy wallpaper in Uncle Darryl’s room upstairs and the crystal door knob leading to the old parlor room that was only used for storage…I wasn’t allowed in there either.
I remember Grandma crying when Grandpa told her a bin of old buttons sold for an enormous price at the auction they had when they sold the farm before retiring.
The older you get, the more chapters of your life begin to blur together. There is so little I can recall from school or home or anything else during my childhood. But the memories of the farm are so vivid to me – maybe because as a child, it was always a place of wonder…because Grandpa made it that way.
When they moved to the house at Big Turkey Lake, we used to spend many a summer and winter holidays there. I think Grandpa liked having grandkids around because as we grew up, we became his playmates. We were the only ones who could keep up with him…and he was the author of many adventures and tons of mischief.
I remember snowmobiling at break-neck speeds and ice skating on the shallow pond that used to form behind the garage…all to the familiar sound of “tee, hee, hee, hee….”
I remember riding bikes around the neighborhood, learning to skateboard down the big hill like Farrah Fawcett on Charlie’s Angels, and holding my breath underwater for the first time.
One of my favorite memories from the lake was watching our dog, Lulu, give birth to her final litter of puppies under the front porch. I remember how purple they were and how she nuzzled them until they were ready to nurse. AND that there were no smelly diapers. I think that’s the moment I decided my lot in life was to be a “dog mom”…
I also remember balmy nights on the pontoon boat with Grandpa letting us sit behind the wheel with him, cruising from cove to cove as the sun was setting, seaweed was collecting on the propeller, and the mosquitoes were attacking.
I remember the Fourth of July and Grandma saying “Oh, Owen!” whenever he lit yet another sparkler and placed it in the hands of a 5-year-old. (“Oh, Owen!” I’m guessing my nephew, Owen, hears that phrase a lot…)
I remember fried chicken dinners from Elmira, powdered donuts for breakfast and an endless supply of gum drops from the Sears candy counter because those were MY dad’s favorites.
I remember that Grandpa liked to eat and he didn’t like to see good food go to waste…especially if it was on my plate. We were all picky eaters at the time, and after several rounds of “aren’t you gonna eat that?” I think he learned that we could be as stubborn as he was.
When it came to yard work, I remember that as different as my dad and grandpa seemed to be, they always agreed on one thing: neither thought the other one knew one darn thing about cutting down trees! Since a couple of those trees landed on our house, I’m inclined to agree with both of them!
I remember that Grandpa would never let us pay for dinner, that he could fix almost anything, and that he always made time to help people in need whether they were family or complete strangers.
AND I remember that no matter how old I was, I was never too old for a “borry, borry, borry, ZIP!”
There is no ONE favorite memory I have of my grandpa. What has stayed with me through the years is the memory of the way he made me -- and all of us – feel: safe, protected, as though nothing REALLY bad could ever happen – nothing that was too big to mend or glue or weld back together.
My sister, Jenny, has already shared with you grandpa’s exploits in barn climbing. The man could fall off buildings and not break a fingernail.
That’s what I will always remember about Grandpa --- he had an UNBREAKABLE quality that infused every fiber of his being, from his bones to his work ethic to his outlook on life.
Maybe it was because he lived through the Great Depression and he had already seen how bad it REALLY CAN get. Maybe his DNA was different…stronger and more resilient. OR maybe despite how simple and direct he always seemed, he was that unique kind of individual who truly had his priorities straight, and that made it easy to live and laugh and go on no matter what.
Whatever it was, it all added up to a boy, a man, a husband, a father and grandfather who passed on that unbreakable quality – that fearlessness – to those who came next. Because I really have no other way to explain how I ended up this way.
We all have seen our share of joy and sorrow. We know life can be tough, even bad at times. But we’re still here. We’re still trying. We’re still putting things that break back together again, because Grandpa taught us how to do that.
That’s what I will always remember about him. That’s the part of him that lives on in me and all of us who knew and loved him.
This was the last picture taken of Dad and me. My son, Jeff, took it at Christmas.
I shall always treasure it.
I Fall Asleep in Jesus’ Wounds
I fall asleep in Jesus’ wounds,
There pardon for my sins abounds;
Yea, Jesus’ blood and righteousness
My jewels are, my glorious dress.
In these before my God I’ll stand
When I shall reach the heavenly land.
With peace and joy I now depart;
God’s child I am with all my heart.
I thank thee, Death, thou leadest me
To that true life where I would be.
So cleansed by Christ, I fear not death.
Lord Jesus, strengthen Thou my faith.
Amen
