The Ancestors and Cousins of Tracy Lynn DeVault

Charles Monroe Paup was born on 30 April 1900 in Pennsylvania.^1,2 He and Leah Armeda "Armeda" Gohn were married on 28 October 1926 in York Co., Pennsylvania.² He and Miriam Smid were married after 1939. He died on 24 September 1944, at age 44, in York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² He was buried in Freysville Cemetery, Freysville, York Co., Pennsylvania.²

Charles Monroe Paup had reference number 43645. He was enumerated on the census in York County, Pennsylvania (1910, 1920.)² He was a Back testing - paper mill (1918); Toy maker - novelty shop (1920); former radio service man for Sears, was last employed at the Blaw-Knox Company.^2,3 OBITUARY - Paup Family Tree; Owner: KarenSenft0712; (Ancestry.com)

Died 24 September, 1944 at the home of his Mother. Age 44-4-24.
Former Radio Service Man for Sears, was last employed at the Blaw-Knox Company
Burial in the Freysville Cemetery, Pennsylvania. Edward W. Baumeister Colonial Mortuary, S. Queen St., York, were in charge of the arrangements.

Citations

[S992] 1910 Census, Pennsylvania, York County
[S5495] Genealogy prepared by Cathy (Crabtree) Cook (Prudance Amelia Geiselman 8-2-2011 file)
[S12721] World War I Draft Registration Cards (1917 - 1918)

Family Explorer

Cora Jane Paup^1,2

F, #43344, b. 29 June 1902, d. 27 June 1999

Parents

Father	Martin Frederick Paup (b. 14 June 1871, d. 16 September 1922)
Mother	Mazie May Strausbaugh (b. 27 December 1879, d. 10 June 1952)

Pedigree Link

Family: Harry Sylvan Fink (b. 23 December 1897, d. 9 November 1976)

Daughter	Dorothy Jean Fink+ (b. 24 August 1923)
Daughter	Nancy Ann Fink+
Son	Earl Wesley Fink+ (b. 15 January 1939, d. 11 January 2005)

BASIC FACTS

Cora Jane Paup was born on 29 June 1902 in Pennsylvania.^1,2 She and Harry Sylvan Fink were married on 21 October 1922 in York, York Co., Pennsylvania.^2,3 She died on 27 June 1999, at age 96, in York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² She was buried in Salem Union Cemetery, Dover, York Co., Pennsylvania.²

Cora Jane Paup had reference number 43646. She was enumerated on the census in York County, Pennsylvania (1910 - 1930.)² She was a Pinner - dental factory (1920.)² Her Social Security Number was 171-50-4835, issued: Pennsylvania, last residence: York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² She resided in York, York Co., Pennsylvania (1952.)⁴ OBITUARY - Paup Family Tree; Owner: KarenSenft0712; (Ancestry.com)

extractions:
Burial Salem Union Cemetery, Dover, PA
Following cremation at Yorktowne Caskets Crematory, burial will be at the convenience of the family. The Emig Funeral Home 47 N. Queens St., Dover in in charge of arrangements.

GRAVE MARKER

FINK

HARRY S. CORA J.
1897 - 1976 1902 - 1999. Karen (Kottmyer) Senft wrote:

Uncle Harry and Aunt Cora lived at 278 Union St. in York until building a home at 1815 Poplar Road in Dover, PA. Instead of using 2x4's for framing he used the cross arms from old electric poles. Both Uncle Harry and Aunt Cora loved to go small game hunting and work in their garden which they grew many fruits and vegetables.

Citations

[S992] 1910 Census, Pennsylvania, York County
[S5495] Genealogy prepared by Cathy (Crabtree) Cook (Prudance Amelia Geiselman 8-2-2011 file)
[S6430] Genealogy prepared by KarenSenft0712 (Ancestry.com)
[S11349] Obituary - Mazie May (Strausbaugh) Paup-Uffelman

Family Explorer

Martin L. Paup¹

M, #43345, b. 18 February 1904, d. 13 November 1966

Parents

Father	Martin Frederick Paup (b. 14 June 1871, d. 16 September 1922)
Mother	Mazie May Strausbaugh (b. 27 December 1879, d. 10 June 1952)

Pedigree Link

Family: Emma C. Sumpman (b. 28 November 1907, d. 3 October 1995)

Daughter

Armeda Rojene Paup+ (b. 17 August 1926, d. 11 April 2010)

BASIC FACTS

Martin L. Paup was born on 18 February 1904 in Pennsylvania.^1,2 He and Emma C. Sumpman were married on 25 June 1925 in York Co., Pennsylvania.² He died on 13 November 1966, at age 62, in York, York Co., Pennsylvania.^2,3 He was buried in Greenmount Cemetery, York, York Co., Pennsylvania.²

Martin L. Paup had reference number 43647. He was enumerated on the census in York County, Pennsylvania (1910 - 1930.)² His Social Security Number was 188-03-0982, issued: Pennsylvania, last residence: York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² He was a Helper in father's blacksmith shop (1920); laborer - baking Company (1930.)² He resided in York, York Co., Pennsylvania (1952.)⁴ Karen (Kottmyer) Sneft wrote:

Uncle Marty and Aunt Emma lived on College Ave. In 1944 they lived at 513 S. George Street, 2nd foor, York, PA. (Next to Stetler Dodge).

GRAVE MARKER

PAUP
1904 MARTIN L. 1966
1907 EMMA C. 1995.

Citations

[S992] 1910 Census, Pennsylvania, York County
[S5495] Genealogy prepared by Cathy (Crabtree) Cook (Prudance Amelia Geiselman 8-2-2011 file)
[S6430] Genealogy prepared by KarenSenft0712 (Ancestry.com)
[S11349] Obituary - Mazie May (Strausbaugh) Paup-Uffelman

Family Explorer

Chester M. Paup¹

M, #43346, b. 23 July 1905, d. August 1968

Parents

Father	Martin Frederick Paup (b. 14 June 1871, d. 16 September 1922)
Mother	Mazie May Strausbaugh (b. 27 December 1879, d. 10 June 1952)

Pedigree Link

Family: Helen M. Senft (b. about 1908, d. 1961)

Son	Frederick S. Paup+ (b. 6 April 1926, d. 11 December 1996)

BASIC FACTS

Chester M. Paup was born on 23 July 1905 in Pennsylvania.^1,2 He and Helen M. Senft were married on 8 October 1925.² He died in August 1968, at age 63, in York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² He was buried in Barron's Union Cemetery, York Co., Pennsylvania.²

Chester M. Paup had reference number 43648. He was enumerated on the census in York County, Pennsylvania (1910 - 1930.)² He was a Pretzel roller - bakery (1920); commercial traveler - baking machine (1930.)² His Social Security Number was 175-10-7392, issued: Pennsylvania, last residence: York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² He resided in York, York Co., Pennsylvania (1952.)³

Citations

[S992] 1910 Census, Pennsylvania, York County
[S5495] Genealogy prepared by Cathy (Crabtree) Cook (Prudance Amelia Geiselman 8-2-2011 file)
[S11349] Obituary - Mazie May (Strausbaugh) Paup-Uffelman

Family Explorer

Anna Elizabeth Paup^1,2

F, #43347, b. 30 March 1908, d. 28 February 1995

Parents

Father	Martin Frederick Paup (b. 14 June 1871, d. 16 September 1922)
Mother	Mazie May Strausbaugh (b. 27 December 1879, d. 10 June 1952)

Pedigree Link

Family: George Jackson Brown (b. 7 February 1902, d. 3 October 1964)

Son	Robert Herman Brown+ (b. 20 June 1927, d. 26 April 1996)
Daughter	Fay Corinne Brown+

BASIC FACTS

Anna Elizabeth Paup was born on 30 March 1908 in York, York Co., Pennsylvania.^1,2,3 She and George Jackson Brown were married on 19 December 1925 in Westminster, Carroll Co., Maryland.² She died on 28 February 1995, at age 86, in Probably York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² She was buried in Greenmount Cemetery, York, York Co., Pennsylvania.²

Anna Elizabeth Paup had reference number 43649. She was enumerated on the census in York County, Pennsylvania (1910 - 1930.)² Her Social Security Number was 205-22-4799, issued: Pennsylvania, last residence: York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² She resided in York, York Co., Pennsylvania (1952.)⁴ Karen (Kottmyer) Senft wrote:

Aunt Anna loved to play golf and tennis. What I remember most was her beautiful live flocked Christmas trees that she would buy at the Corner of Belvidere and Philadelphia Street in York! Prior to moving to Bannister Street they lived at 1420 Orange Street, York, PA.

GRAVE MARKER

BROWN

GEORGE J. ANNA E.
1902 - 1964 1908 - 1995

ROBERT H.
1927 - 1996.

Citations

[S992] 1910 Census, Pennsylvania, York County
[S5495] Genealogy prepared by Cathy (Crabtree) Cook (Prudance Amelia Geiselman 8-2-2011 file)
[S6430] Genealogy prepared by KarenSenft0712 (Ancestry.com)
[S11349] Obituary - Mazie May (Strausbaugh) Paup-Uffelman

Family Explorer

Kenneth R. Paup-Miller¹

M, #43348, b. 29 July 1939, d. 4 August 2009

Parents

Father	Charles Monroe Paup (b. 30 April 1900, d. 24 September 1944)
Mother	Leah Armeda "Armeda" Gohn (b. 29 June 1904, d. 30 July 1939)

Pedigree Link

Family: Unknown Unknown

Daughter

Kristin Miller+

BASIC FACTS

Kenneth R. Paup-Miller was born on 29 July 1939 in York, York Co., Pennsylvania.^2,1 He and Bonnie L. Heidlebaugh were married before 2009.¹ He died on 4 August 2009, at age 70, in York, York Co., Pennsylvania.^2,1

Kenneth R. Paup-Miller had reference number 43650. His Social Security Number was 210-30-2091, issued: Pennsylvania, last residence: York, York Co., Pennsylvania.² He was educated Graduated from William Penn High School, York, York Co., Pennsylvania (1958); earned an Associate's degree in Criminology from York College of Pennsylvania.¹ Joined the U.S. Navy in 1958 & served for four years before receiving an honorable discharge as Petty Officer Second Class. He attended radio class A school, served on a submarine and received a Good Conduct Medal.¹ He was a Worked at both Cole Steel and American Machine and Foundry Company, until beginning a career in law enforcement. He was a police officer for the Springettsbury Township Police Department for 26 years beginning on Jan. 10, 1972.¹ He resided in After his retirement, Ken lived in Delaware, Florida, and Arizona, before returning to York.¹ Alzheimer's disease.¹ Kenneth's mother died the day after he was born. He was raised by his mother's sister, Verna "Minnie" (Heidlebaugh) Miller and her husband Norman H. Miller. Kenneth adoped the "Miller" surname.

NEWSPAPER ARTICLE - Daily Record/Sunday News - Paul Kuehnel / Bil Bowden / Jason Plotkin

SPRINGETTSBURY TWP., PENNSYLVANIA
A man shot a woman inside this home on Wilshire Drive in Springettsbury Township, then killed himself Monday, Springettsbury Township police said today.
Bonnie Miller, 68, was murdered Monday evening by her husband, retired Sgt. Kenneth Miller, officials said. (Submitted)
Fearing for her life, Bonnie L. Miller locked herself inside the basement of her Springettsbury Township home and called a relative for help.
By the time police arrived, her husband, Kenneth R. Miller, had taken the family's dog, Suzie, to a neighbor's home and had shot his wife in the head.
Springettsbury Township police who went into the home to investigate the call heard a single gunshot - believed to be the suicide blow fired by Kenneth Miller, a retired Springettsbury Township sergeant.
Kenneth Miller, 70, and his wife, Bonnie, 68, each died of single gunshot wound to the head from a handgun. They were pronounced dead inside their home in the 4000 block of Wilshire Drive by York County Deputy Coroner Claude Stabley.
David Eshbach, Springettsbury Township police chief, talks with media during a news conference today about the murder-suicide of Kenneth and Bonnie Miller.
Kenneth Miller was diagnosed about a year ago with Alzheimer's disease, said David Eshbach, Springettsbury Township Police chief.
Miller was a veteran officer who served Springettsbury Township from January 1972 to May 1998. He served as interim police chief in 1997 after Harold Kessler retired and before Eshbach was promoted.
"We are very saddened by this incident," Eshbach said. "We are very shocked by this incident. It's a terrible tragedy."
Eshbach declined to discuss his former colleague, saying the timing was inappropriate because the focus should be on the Miller family.
Police said Bonnie Miller called a relative in another state about 4 p.m. Monday for help. Police learned about 6:50 p.m. of the call and went to the home immediately, Eshbach said. He said he did not know why there was such a delay between the time the relative received the call and the time police were notified.
After repeated attempts to contact Kenneth Miller, police entered the home and heard one gunshot shortly afterward.
Police retreated from the home and set up a perimeter as they waited for the York County Quick Response Team, police said. Shortly after midnight, after several hours of attempting to contact anyone inside,
A fire policeman directs traffic Monday evening outside a home in Springettsbury Township where a man and a woman were found dead. The team entered the home and found the Millers dead in a finished basement.
Eshbach said police will try to piece together the events leading up to the shootings, including interviewing family members. There was no suicide note.
Before he filled in as interim chief, Miller was in charge of criminal investigations for the department, Eshbach said. The chief said the last time he saw Miller was in December at an event celebrating the police department's 50th anniversary.
Lisa Reilly, who lives across from the Miller home, said would see Bonnie Miller walking their dog and Kenneth Miller working in the yard. She said she lived near the Millers for 20 years but did not know their names.
Reilly said she noticed police about 7:30 p.m. Monday. About 11 p.m., a police officer came to the door and asked her family to leave. If they had nowhere else to go, the officer said, they should take cover in their basement.
She heard police with bullhorns try to talk Miller out. Just after midnight, she said, her family was told everything was clear.
"It's a nice, quiet neighborhood," Reilly said of the suburban development off Locust Grove Road. "It's just very shocking."
Daughter: Mother was a caring person
Julianne Wernig of Dallastown, Bonnie Miller's daughter, said her mother was a very caring person -- too much for her own good, sometimes.
About 15 years ago, for example, she did volunteer work for rape victims. Miller would get a call in the middle of the night and head out to the hospital to talk to the vicitms, and help them get through those traumatic first hours.
Eventually, she had to stop. She was getting so wrapped up in the plight of the victims that it was draining her, Wernig said.
On Tuesday, Wernig got a call from the hospital. They wanted to use her mother's eyes in the organ donation program.
"She can help people that way," Wernig said. "That's what my mom would have wanted."
Neighborhood reaction
Lisa Reilly, who lives across the street, said she didn't know the couple who lived in the house. She said she would see the woman walking her dog and the man working in the yard. She said they were meticulous about their yard. She said she's lived there for 20 years and the couple has lived there all that time.
She said she noticed police in the neighborhood about 7:30 p.m. Monday. About 11 p.m., an officer came to her door and asked her family if they could leave. If they had nowhere else to go, the officer asked that they take cover in their basement.
She heard police with bullhorns trying to talk with the home's residents. Quick Response Team members took up positions in her yard and around the house.
About midnight or 12:30 a.m., she said, her family was told it was all clear.
"It's a nice quiet neighborhood," she said of the suburban development off of Locust Grove Road. "It's just very shocking."

OBITUARY - York Daily Record & York Dispatch (PA); August 7, 2009; (Internet):

Kenneth R. Miller
YORK - Kenneth R. Miller, 70, died Tuesday, August 4, 2009. He was the husband of the late Bonnie L. Miller. Ken was born in York, on July 29, 1939, the son of the late Norman H. and Verna M. Miller. He attended William Penn High School, graduating in 1958. Joining the U.S. Navy in November 1958, Ken served for four years before receiving an honorable discharge as Petty Officer Second Class. He attended radio class A school, served on a submarine, and received a Good Conduct Medal. His love of the ocean was a lifelong passion. After returning home to York, Ken worked at both Cole Steel and American Machine and Foundry Company, until beginning a career in law enforcement. Ken served as a police officer for the Springettsbury Township Police Department for 26 years beginning on January 10, 1972. He was promoted from Patrolman to Corporal in August 1988, and then to Sergeant in June 1991. After serving three months as Interim Acting Chief in early 1997, Ken returned to his duties as Sergeant until his retirement on May 8, 1998. During his time at the department, he was a member of the Fraternal Order of Police and earned an Associate's degree in Criminology from York College of Pennsylvania. Ken also volunteered as an Instructor for the American Red Cross. After his retirement, Ken lived in Delaware, Florida, and Arizona, before returning to York after being diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. He is survived by a daughter, Kristin Lynch; a son-in-law, Andrew Lynch; and a grandson, Finn Lynch. Ken was an animal lover and adored his dog, Suzie. The family will receive guests at 9 a.m. on Monday, August 10, 2009, at the John W. Keffer Funeral Homes and Crematory, Inc., 902 Mt. Rose Ave., York. The memorial service will begin at 10 a.m. Donations can be sent to the Alzheimer's Association at www.alz.org/join_the_cause_donate.asp or via mail to Alzheimer's Association , 225 N. Michigan Ave., Fl. 17, Chicago, IL 60601-7633. www.kefferfh.com

EULOGY - Written by his daughter and ready by his son-in-law, Andrew Lynch.

Throughout his life, my father was loved and admired by most who knew him. To me, he was always my hero. Known as “Kenny” by many of his friends and coworkers, my dad was an honest, hard-working man with strong ethics and integrity.
I have so many good memories of my father from childhood…we were a team, partners in our likes and dislikes, and my mom often called us two “peas in a pod” - not always in a complimentary way. In those early years, we spent a lot of time together. He had nicknames for me like “Lump” and “Kritter.”
On my dad’s days off, my mother would send us out on errands. We’d start the day by gathering up the stale bread in the house and heading out to Kiwanis Lake downtown. There, we’d feed the ducks, geese, and swans. We did this many times throughout the years. Until one day, I was so busy watching the beautiful white swans that I wasn’t paying attention as I dropped my handful of bread to my side. One of the geese came up and grabbed the bread, biting my hand in the process. I was so scared by this that I never wanted to go back to the lake. But my dad made me get back on the horse and return to the lake. That’s the kind of man my father was…
Over the years, in lieu of a son to enjoy his interests with, I became like one to him. He shared his love of model trains with me, taking me to see the annual Christmas train show display each holiday season. And making me wait by the railroad tracks downtown for the passing of the Freedom Train in 1976 - for hours…and hours… I still have the coins we so carefully laid out on the tracks to be flattened when the train rolled by. On Sundays, we watched football together, cheering the Dallas Cowboys through several Super Bowls. We laughed at professional wrestling and listened to the roar of NASCAR racing, although most times he would fall asleep and I would sneak over to steal the remote and change the channels once I was sure he would not wake.
My dad taught me to play Frisbee and introduced me to skiing. His old partner, Mike, took us both up to Ski Roundtrip when I was 12 and my father was 42. Poor Mike, because neither of us had ever skied! I believe I ended up spraining my ankle, but my dad loved it. From then on, he took me skiing regularly. At his urging, I joined the ski club in high school. Bill and Jenny Starner and my dad and I would go on an annual father/daughter ski trip to resorts in Pennsylvania and New York. One time, we were skiing at Blue Knob, and the four of us skied down a slope that had no chair lift running. We didn’t realize this until it was too late, so we took a shortcut through the woods to the next slope. As somewhat novice skiers, it was a disaster. We laughed and fell, tripping over fallen trees and running into other standing ones, trying to get to the next slope. Those were good times.
In high school, I could always count on my dad to be there to support me at my track meets and to watch me as a cheerleader. I was never a track star, but he always came to encourage me. I can remember one time, in particular, when I collapsed as I stumbled in almost last place over the finish line. He was there to pick me up, congratulate me on my perseverance, and take me home. My dad was my biggest fan.
He was also a stern father and a disciplinarian. One time when I was about 13 years of age, he dropped me off at the York Ice Rink for Friday night skating. He must’ve known something was up - I never was a good liar - because shortly after I threw my skates in the bushes and headed out to a nearby party with friends, my father circled around and caught me. He pulled up beside me in the car and said, “I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up.” Those simple words put the fear of God in me. I gathered up my skates, returned to the rink, and waited for what seemed like the longest hour of my life. He drove me home in complete silence. I don’t remember my punishment, but I do know I never did that again.
When I got my driver’s permit, my dad was more than willing to take me driving. We had a stick shift VW Beetle that we’d take down to the old York Mall parking lot. Before getting started, he’d light up a cigarette even though he had quit yet again!, making me promise not to tell my mother. And we’d practice and practice. I’d be scared, but he’d make me keep at it. Until one time, he said, “Okay, now, drive us home.” I was terrified, but he insisted, and I did get us home in one piece.
Each year, on the day after Christmas, my dad and I would get up at the crack of dawn, go out for breakfast, and then shop for discounted wrapping paper, bows, gift tags, and cards. We’d arrive at the Hallmark store before the gates went up, waiting in line with the masses to get the best stuff first. It’s times like these that I really looked forward to as they were “our” traditions.
My dad was also a prankster with a mischievous side. When he’d come home for dinner in uniform, he’d often put his handcuffs on me at the end of his dinner hour and pretend to leave with the key. And although he did this dozens of times, I always fell for it, pleading with him to unlock me before he left.
In my house growing up, we had a basement laundry and utility room that was dark and unfinished. It was a room that always scared me. My dad would hide in there, and when I walked by, he would jump out, grab me, and roar, scaring me to death. No matter how many times he did this, it consistently scared the pants off me.
As anyone who knew my dad would agree, he had his own way about him, his own style, and his own idiosyncrasies. He loved Planter’s peanuts and peanut butter tasty-cakes. Despite all the better beer in the world, he preferred a can of Coors Light or Keystone Light. He liked a warm meal on the table at 5 pm sharp. Up until just recently, he wore those real short, old-style, corduroy OP shorts. He loved his loafers and Docksides. And even after things went out of style, he’d try to find them and be angry that they weren’t made any longer. When going through my father’s things, I found an old bathing suit - a red, white, and blue Speedo - that he wore while apparently going through a midlife crisis in his early 50s. I laughed amidst my tears, recalling the story of my father wearing this suit at the beach and me telling him to put some distance between his towel and mine. He ignored me, pulled his chair and cooler next to mine, and said, “Bar opens at 10 am.”
In addition to being a great dad, my father was a veteran of the U.S. Navy, serving for 4 years as a radioman aboard submarines. He sailed the Mediterranean Sea, visiting Greece, Italy, and many other countries. He was proud of his achievements in the service and spoke fondly of those years. But what he was most proud of was his years as a policeman. My dad retired from the Springettsbury Township Police Department after 26 ½ years of service. He began his career in law enforcement as a Patrolman, advanced to Corporal and then Sergeant, and served for a few months as Acting Interim Chief before retiring as a Sergeant in 1998. Growing up, police gatherings, summer picnics, and Christmas parties with Santa were a staple in my family’s life. There were many children my age and so we all grew up together. The wives were friends. It was like a big extended family. These years defined my dad. Although it was a tough line of work, and he often missed holidays and special occasions at home, I don’t think he would’ve been happier doing anything else.
After retirement, when my dad and Bonnie moved to Delaware, I was always welcome to visit. When he knew I was coming, my dad would unmoor his boat and throw out some crab traps in preparation for my arrival. Once I’d get there, we’d go out together to bring in the traps and he’d have Bonnie steam them. He’d set up the picnic table with newspaper, mallets, and beer, and tell me to enjoy.
After they moved to Florida and I was well into my late twenties, I was visiting and we made a trip to Disney World. Because I always loved Winnie the Pooh, he insisted that I pose with Winnie for a photo. There was a huge line and it was hot and humid, so I started to complain. But my dad was adamant that he get this picture, he told me to knock it off because I was getting my picture taken with Pooh, period!
Despite being a creature of habit, my dad could still surprise me. On a visit he made to Colorado, Andy and I took him to dinner, which in itself was difficult as he was a true meat and potatoes kind of guy, and Boulder is a diverse area with a variety of ethnic cuisine. To play it safe, we took him to a brew pub with your basic American fare, and he ended up ordering a buffalo burger - and a Coors Light - even though I explained to him that as a brew pub they only sold their own beer. Another time, when in Arizona, my dad, Bonnie, and I ventured to Sedona, which was probably not something he would’ve done on his own, so I’m glad we got to share the beauty of that special place.
Although he could be a firm disciplinarian, he was also a soft and gentle man. I’ve seen my dad cry on many occasions. He’d cry at sad movies, TV shows, and stories. When we went to see ET, I can remember myself crying at the end and glancing over at him only to see him wiping away his tears. He and I were especially fond of an old 80s movie titled “Somewhere in Time” with Christopher Reeves and Jane Seymour. It is a moving love story with a beautiful soundtrack. Although we’ve watched it together multiple times, we’d always cry. The music that was playing before the service is the soundtrack to this film.
My dad loved animals. He adored his dog, Suzie, and every time we talked he asked about my dog, Mocha. Years ago, he promised me that if anything happened to Andy and myself, he would take care of Mocha to ensure that she never went to the pound.
When I shared with my dad the news that I was pregnant with twins but had lost them at 7 weeks, he cried along with me. And when I miscarried a second time, he cried again. If I was hurting, he was, too.
This, of course, worked both ways as I began to see my dad suffer symptoms of dementia shortly following the hurricanes that hit near his home in Melbourne, Florida. He was so distraught over the repeated evacuations and at the devastation to his and Bonnie’s home and their neighbors’ homes. I’ve said repeatedly to others that this was the beginning of my father’s decline. After they moved to Arizona, things continued to worsen. My dad began to hire people to do work around the home, was afraid to be by himself for long periods of time, and did not venture far from the house alone. When he visited me in Colorado to go skiing, he was somewhat fearful and overwhelmed, although for a man of 67 who hadn’t skied in years, I thought he did great.
I last saw my dad in April when Andy and I were home for Andy’s grandmother’s funeral. We, of course, brought Finn, and my dad really enjoyed being able to spend time with his grandson. One night when we were meeting up with friends, they offered to baby sit, and we accepted. We arrived back at their place to find my dad crawling around on the floor with Finn, laughing and having a great time.
On July 25, Bonnie threw a 70th birthday party for my father. Unfortunately, I was unable to attend and planned to make a trip home later in the year. For some reason, though, this weighed heavily on my mind and I contemplated going as late as the week of the party.
That next week, I talked to my dad on Wednesday to wish him a Happy Birthday. We were on the phone for about 45 minutes, which was a long conversation for my dad and me. I spent a good bit of time with him trying to figure out who had attended the party. My dad was shuffling through birthday cards, trying to pull names from there, but he had difficulty even then and told me that Bonnie would have to tell me who all was there when she got home. In my dad’s usual fashion of treating me like a son, he told me all about the new fence he was putting up on the side yard and about the cupola he was painting. I asked if he was okay alone, and he said that Suzie was keeping him good company. But he did touch on how frustrated he was by his inability to articulate and find the words that he was searching for. He said he was afraid that he wouldn’t live long enough to benefit from any advancements or cure they might find for Alzheimer’s. I assured him that he was healthy and that he had a good chance of being able to use any new medications or treatments. I remember how sweetly he said, “I love you, honey. Bye-bye.” I could’ve never anticipated that this would be our last conversation and that on the Monday after this phone call, would come the two worst phone calls of my life.
We will all be struggling with questions of why, or asking what we could’ve done differently…but there are and never will be any answers for this tragedy. However, some understanding has come to me during the past days. While sorting through my dad’s paperwork, I was amazed to see how many accommodations and certificates that my dad earned as a policeman. He had received accommodations from the Optimist Club and was honored for his years of service on the police force. There was literally a 1-inch stack of certificates from various police training seminars he attended over the years. In reviewing this paperwork, it really struck me how difficult an illness like Alzheimer’s must be for any person, especially a man from his generation who had such high standards for himself and such a history of achievements. I realized that my dad must’ve been suffering in ways that he was too proud or unable to convey.
At Bonnie’s service on Saturday, one of my dad and Bonnie’s friends from Florida attended. She made a special effort to find me and introduce herself. She said that while my dad and Bonnie were visiting her and her husband in Florida just a few months ago, my dad said to her that Bonnie was the best thing that ever happened to him. I know that he would’ve never in his right mind wanted this for Bonnie, for himself, for the family, for his friends, for anyone…
I want to express my sympathy to Bonnie’s family, Jim and Therese Jacobs, Dave and Shelly Jacobs, Julie and Chuck Wernig, and Robin and Ray Wittes, and their children. They have been a pillar of strength and support, and showed an amazing amount of understanding and compassion, during this most difficult time.
Dad, may you now be at peace.

Citations

[S5495] Genealogy prepared by Cathy (Crabtree) Cook (Prudance Amelia Geiselman 8-2-2011 file)
[S12398] Social Security Death Index, Source Medium: Book

Family Explorer

Richard Dulaney Faust¹

M, #43349

Pedigree Link

Family: Mary Mullins

Son	Hugh Dulaney Faust+ (b. 11 June 1878, d. 26 November 1938)

BASIC FACTS

Richard Dulaney Faust had reference number 43651.

Citations

[S4021] Death Records - Tennessee "Tennessee, Death Records, 1914 - 1955" (LDS)

Family Explorer

Mary Mullins¹

F, #43350

Pedigree Link

Family: Richard Dulaney Faust

Son	Hugh Dulaney Faust+ (b. 11 June 1878, d. 26 November 1938)

BASIC FACTS

Mary Mullins had reference number 43652.

Citations

[S4021] Death Records - Tennessee "Tennessee, Death Records, 1914 - 1955" (LDS)