Mr. McAdoo

A guy so special to so many over 100 years will this February be celebrating his … you got it. His one hundredth birthday! I honor him here. For his life. A life so well lived.

Mr McAdoo,

Always called you that. Never really knew you that well. But remember you so well. Dated Susan. Think you thought I was Ok. You were hard to read. Stoic in a good way. Felt I made the cut though. PC  guy, athlete. You know. Some of the right stuff. Parents were good friends.

I remember your warm greeting … always. “Hello Robert.” “What’s Mr McAdoo thinking?” usually popped into my mind when we met.

So many things I could share about you. But let me offer here my most distinctive memory.

Pace and Charlotte both died at age 90. Their funerals were held at Laurel Hill Cemetery. Remember? You came to both services. Ambled in slowly, as always. You were early. The first to arrive … at both. I remember your gaze … one of a kind. Solemn, and gracious. Always with that “soft” personality of yours.

As my family gathered for the ceremony, you approached us, looked each of us in the eye, and payed your respects. Individually. Thoughtfully. Respectfully. No receiving line for you … Mr. McAdoo. You showed up early … front and center. One on one you reached out to each of us. Don’t think you know how special, how appreciated this was. Thank you.

But this must be in some ways emblematic of your life. In the right place at the right time? With the right stuff? Without a lot of fanfare. Just with that knowing, confident way of yours. An instinct of what to do. Why, when and how. 

I don’t know much about your career. Just that it was accomplished, distinctive. Know that you can see the true quality of a man in the eyes of his children. Need I say more.

So on this day. Your special, unique day …
Happy Birthday!

God speed, Mr McAdoo.
Well done.

With love,
Bob