Good Morning. My name is Mark and I‘m Jim’s son in law.
In response to a question as to how to define a gentleman, author Jerry Dollar came up with the following:
“I turn to the Code of Olde as embraced by the medieval orders around the world for an answer. It all begins with integrity; knowing who one is, what one stands for, and what one is willing to fight for. To be a gentleman is to know the world around you and the people that make it up. It is a deep felt respect for the thoughts and ways of others. It is to embrace the beauty of humanity, to find the good in all those around you, and to commit yourself to bringing out the best in those you meet while bringing out the best in yourself! To act nobly in deed and word is to set a gentlemanly example!”
I believe that the word actually defines itself. A gentle man. And that essentially defines wh oJim Haus was. A Gentle man. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke or use bad language. And he was never in a hurry. Sometimes much to the chagrin of his family. Being a Non-Haus means learning to adjust to certain new time lines.
During one of my first trips here, it was announced that we were going to the Giant Eagle. I’m sorry, the G’ant Egle. And, being from California, I thought that meant that we were actually going to leav, so I grabbed my keys, and because it was snowing, went out to warm up the car and wait. And wait. and wait.
But eventually clan Haus did emerge from the house and we were off to buy the ingredients for something called ham barbeque. And something else called POP. Later we went back to buy sourcraught and other worldly delights that, being from California, I had never experienced before. Or wanted to, since.
I have also learned of the joys of a magical place called Frantagellos.
I have learned that if, after a family get together, good-byes are going to take place, one should settle in with a good book or tune in to NPR on the car radio, because this is going to take awhile. The Haus family loves each other so much, they just can’t say goodbye. During said goodbyes, they often repeat the same story that they just told each other an hour ago.
I have learned about snakes in the cockpit, the adventures of Uncle Harold, and can name all of the graduates of Moon high circa 1975.
I have learned to never call the house during a Steeler game. Oh, I’m sorry a “stiller” game. And, being a life long 49’ers fan, I have learned what it’s like to have a team actually play in the Super Bowl.
I have learned a new vocabulary. I have learned that it is actually possible to conjugate a pronoun. You has become you’ins.
I have also learned about this man called “Wow.” The ultimate grandfather. The man who, if he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And actually mean it.
A man who loves nothing more than to have his children and grandchildren in the house during the holidays playing music together and singing. Often to the accompaniment of his harmonica.
He and his family have adopted me as one of their own. I would like to thank the Air Force family who have taken in a former Navy man.
I have a theory. Jim’s love and involvement in aviation is well known. He flew his beloved C-47 in world war two even though he had his choice of flying high performance jet fighters. My theory is that being a fighter pilot would have meant flying by himself and Jim loved being around people way too much. I also think that he preferred flying cargo planes because I just don’t think that he wanted to use his flying skills to hurt anyone. He was just too much of a gentleman to use his love of flying to cause harm to anyone.
During his final days the hospital, a new doctor came to visit Jim. The poor guy had come to write the orders to discontinue the medical treatments that were keeping him alive after Jim had made it known that he had enough. And the doctor had never met Jim before. As the doctor introduced himself, Jim offered up a weak hand for a handshake and said, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” And he meant it. That’s the kind of man Jim Haus was. A true gentleman. He died the way he lived, in quiet dignity.
I’m sure that Jim is somewhere with his old flying buddies, leaning forward with his hand cupped to his ear taking it all in, swapping stories and reliving the glory days of flying over the hump. I’m sure that there is much laughter and through the laughter can be heard an occasional “Oh jeez.”
Wow, we’re going to miss you. We are all very sad that you’re gone. You have raised a fine family. You will be happy to know your family does act nobly in deed and word and that they do set a gentlemanly or, a gentlewomanly, example.
And, that I am a better man for having known you.
Thank you.
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