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Eulogy for Charles Robert Reps (1923-2010)

September 18, 2010
Lawrence W. Potts

Good afternoon. I’m Larry Potts, Jill’s husband and Charlie’s son-in-law. Charlie often called me his “Larry-in-Law”. I remarked to Fr. Steve after his fine eulogy in this morning’s service, that what I wrote and say here today will touch on most of the points he made in his eulogy. That was the pattern at the wake last evening; we heard the same good things over and over.

Charlie Reps was an easy man to know and like. I liked him when I first met him at the family Mother’s Day dinner in May of 1970. Jill was introducing me to the rest of her family that day, a group that included my future mother, father, uncle, and grandmother-in-law, as well as Jill’s brothers and sisters. About two weeks later Jill and I went to Spring Valley (hitch-hiking) so that I could ask her parents for permission to marry her. The young people here will not recognize this old custom, but most of you know the pressures of the situation. Charlie, never overtly the romantic, said, “Well, she’s over 21.” At the time I thought it was gruffness, but more recently I have thought it was just that he was so surprised he was stuck for something to say. I knew by Irene’s reaction what he had in mind, and that it was all OK. He reminded Jill and me for at least 10 years after the wedding that there was still a balance due in his Master Card from the event. Charlie and I became good friends, a late-arriving father and son-in-law pair without the baggage of teenage rebellion, high school report cards, begging to use the car, and so forth. I could and did talk about things with him that I had trouble discussing with my own father; he understood that and was always ready to listen and offer advice and help.

There were many things to admire about Charlie. He was a bright fellow with a quick wit and was a good story teller. He was also an excellent, old-school methods teacher of mathematics. He was a disciplinarian and understood high school students well: He once showed me a Vulcan nerve-block pinch of the triceps muscle that rendered overly sociable math students mute immediately. Yesterday at the wake I learned about the side-poke and the ear twist. I was unable to use any of these tricks in my own classrooms at Gustavus, but I appreciated his creative solution to an age-old problem. I admired Charlie’s commitment to being coach and athletic director in a small school with very limited resources. He did almost everything in administering athletics, including laying sod for and (for a while) mowing the field that now bears his name. In the early 70s, as he was on his way to winning 100 football games, he looked to me a lot like Don Shula, coach of the Dolphins (but without benefit of the great runner, Mercury Morris). Despite his tremendous success as coach and AD, he was always humble. I asked him one year how his football team was shaping up. He said, “Well, pretty good…they’re small but they’re slow.” I won’t tell you which year that was.

I admire and appreciate particularly the active role that Charlie played in the lives of his grandchildren and great grandchildren. He was present at every important event for his grandchildren: football games, track meets, homecoming coronations, graduations, birthdays, weddings. To show you something about Charlie’s devotion, two months after Irene passed away he drove over to attend freshman orientation for his granddaughters Karla and Annie at Gustavus Adolphus College. He met their advisors, attended the welcoming convocation, saw the girls’ new dorm rooms and met their roommates. He was extremely proud of all of his grandchildren and delighted in talking about their accomplishments. Even in the last few weeks of his life, his first questions to Jill when she visited were about “the babies”, meaning his great grandchildren. On one visit, two-year old Miles pushed Great Grandpa around in his wheel chair, much to Grandpa’s delight. Two weeks later, Miles asked Jill all on his own, “Is grandpa getting stronger?” We thought yes, but we were wrong.

It saddens me to note that, now, with the loss of Charlie, the family will no longer have a living presence in Spring Valley. We haven’t begun as a family to talk about where and when we’ll get together. We all remember fondly the holiday get-togethers, the shared stories and traditions. We remember Charlie’s deep sadness at losing Irene, and his efforts to remain active and independent and engaged in his church and his community. We also remember the wonderful care that was extended to him by all of you who survive him. His lingering presence in your memories eases our profound sense of loss. We also take comfort in knowing that you join us here today in giving thanks to God for the life of Charlie Reps.