“A father’s love still travels
on after he’s gone.
A treasure hidden in the
hearts of his children.”
~ John Green

The welcome mat outside the front door of Kathy’s childhood home in Sunnyvale said it all: One nice person and one old grouch live here. Of course, this was the source of much laughter and conversation through the years. Everyone knew who the nice person was, so by default… Larry took it all in stride. 

At 6 feet 7 inches, Larry was an imposing figure. When I first met Kathy, her parents were out of town. When they returned home, they were greeted by Kathy’s younger siblings who excitedly informed them that Kathy had met someone. When I finally had the opportunity to meet Larry and Norma, I was a bit intimidated by the deep-voiced man whose hand dwarfed mine when we shook hands. Oh, he was friendly enough. Still, it took me a while to be able to relax in his presence. As time went on, I realized that I could not have asked for a better father-in-law.

The fun really began when Kathy and I started having children. The boys would be playing in the family room at Grandma and Grandpa’s home. Larry might have been outside working in the garden, a task which brought him tremendous peace of mind. When he came back into the house and saw one or all three of the boys sitting in his recliner, he would bellow in a loud, booming voice, “Get outta my chair!” The boys would scream with joy and immediately relocate to another part of the room. It was a game the kids loved to play.

At family dinners, Larry was often the main chef. He made the most amazing lasagna I’ve ever tasted, and he’d make it from scratch. Throughout the afternoon prior to a large family meal, Larry could be found in the kitchen cutting up carrots or string beans with meticulous precision. It seemed to be therapeutic for him. And after dinner, when we would all return to the family room, Larry would inevitably sing his favorite song:

I wish I was single again, again,
I wish I was single again,
for if I was single
my pockets would jingle
I wish I was single again, again,
I wish I was single again.

Family celebrations at the Hamm household always included Larry’s song followed by Kathy’s brother, Bob, singing his rough-’n-tumble rendition of Rawhide! 

Larry passed away in the fall of 2001. Today would have been his 94th birthday. Despite the twenty-three years that have passed since his death, Larry is remembered today with love by his eight children (and their spouses), fourteen grandchildren, and a number of neighbors and friends. He is remembered as a man of integrity, for that is exactly what he was.