Maurice (Moe) Howard's Eulogy

In life as in any endeavor one strives to better himself and others around him, and to make their contribution meaningful to them, their families and their fellow man. With the passing of my father it brings closer the end of a exceptional generation who gave unselfishly of themselves when called upon to deter evil and aggression and to secure for future generations a better and more peaceful world. As this generation slowly fades from existence like a candle giving up its flame, one can only wonder what this world would be like now if it wasn’t for these exemplary individuals. The uncertainty of a world thrown into chaos faced by men and women of unflinching courage and determination makes me stand in awe and with everlasting appreciation for the sacrifices they made.

My father was born into that generation of another time. A time when the world moved at a different pace a totally alien place than the world of today, with its streaming internet, modern jet airplane travel, digital this and that. He was born to an immigrant mother from the “Old Country”, Ireland in 1921. To a father to whom he never got to know. Growing up in difficult times in a challenging economic world influenced and molded the person my father was. Being ensconced in a military academy when he was just a young boy took a toll on his mindset for the rest of his life. He felt abandoned due to the occupational needs of his new adopted father who was a big band musician who needed to travel. He related to me many times the stories of him being the only child left at the academy during the Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays due to fact that his mother and father led the nomadic life of performers trying to carve out an existence in hard times. The thought of my father, a little boy thinking he was not loved and crying in the arms of nuns while waiting for his family on Christmas Eve breaks my heart even to this day.

As hard and difficult as life was back in those days, life was not always bad. There were many a good story of the friendships that my father and his family made in those bygone days due to my grandfather being in the entertainment industry. Such notables as Bing Crosby and Bob Hope among many others being friends and houseguests long before becoming famous. This social environment and the stifled upbringing coupled with the fact of my dad being an only child encouraged him to seek out friendships all through his life. My father loved a good time and many were the day when my brothers and I were growing up that he gave of himself in the most unselfish of ways. To days of camping and fishing, to nights of entertaining and music. My dad loved his music, so much so that we almost hated him for it. There were many a night my brothers Ron, Shawn and I endured his “old time tunes” for hours upon hours when we would rather have listened to Elvis, the Beatles or Led Zeppelin. But after all these years the Old Standards and Big Band music still have staying power and have influenced and broadened our love of music thanks to my dad.

My dad was always the adventurous type of person ready to take on any challenge at the drop of a hat. Such was the time during WW2 when he was a pilot in the Army Air Corp and stationed in the South Pacific. Being in the air transport end of it and flying AC 47’s or DC 3’s he always longed to fly fighter planes. He told me plenty of stories of flying the AC 47 and to me it sounded like it was pretty dangerous. But not to him. One of his favorite stories was of the time that he and a buddy came back from leave fortified with liquid courage, they decided they were going to take the two P 40’s that were parked on the ramp for a spin. He came to find out after being chased down taxiway and stopped by a jeep with the base commander in it that the planes were defective and were in for maintenance and probably would have crashed. The commander according to dad was so livid that he either neglected to get their names or couldn’t remember them in all his fury. But needless to say my dad wanted that ride. Lucky the commander showed up when he did or we wouldn’t have gotten to know him. It was during the war that my dad met his first wife Lorna, my older brother Ron’s mom in Australia.

Thinking back on growing up with my father brings to mind many funny stories of a man with a wicked and quirky sense of humor. To me my dad was a combination of Ralph from the “Honeymooners”, William Bendix of “The Life of Riley” and thrown into the mix a lot of Sergeant Bilko aka Phil Silvers and you would have a good approximation of my dad, loveable, quick witted and funny. The singular trait my dad shared with the characters above was that he was a dreamer. And “Tuppets” were one of his dreams. No doubt fueled by one too many adult beverages, thought up one night sitting alone barefoot and listening to his music. He came to the conclusion that he had hit on the ideal product that nobody had thought of to make his fortune. Toe puppets he said or “Tuppets” as he coined them. That was my dad, he had a vivid imagination and if we hadn’t of kidded him who knows? The guy who invented the pet rock made a bundle. And if he would have made his bundle he wouldn’t have had it long, because he was generous to a fault and always wanted to give of what little he had. While he wasn’t a rich man in the sense of money he had a wealth of kindness that some people seek all their lives but never attain. He was a lover of animals and growing up had a number of dogs that he formed close bonds with and loved just like members of the family. Most recently his pet bird AC filled that roll of animal companionship. While I never got to meet his little friend I often heard him over the phone and know that dad was heartbroken when his little bird died. Warmth and compassion were but two of the many qualities that personified my father and enamored him to both family and friends.

He was always an optimist who looked forward to better days and a brighter future no matter how dim his prospects appeared. He always said “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine!” The events of the past months when my dad became ill changed all that. He finally encountered something that was beyond his optimism. With a courage that defined his generation, he confronted a foe that is relentless in it’s tenacity to strike down even the toughest of individuals. He never complained except to say that he felt lousy and until his final days you wouldn’t have known unless someone told you, that he was in the fight of his life. Amazing as he was during this whole ordeal he never lost the hope that he could someday return to Hawaii the place he called home and loved so much. The many friends who he missed and the tennis that he especially loved at the Kapiolani Tennis Courts always brightened his days. I was happy that he got to see his friends and his beloved Hawaii before taking a turn for the worse. He returned saddened that he couldn’t stay, but looked forward to return visits. Maybe he knew then what lay ahead in the near future after his visit and didn’t want to speak of it. But when he found out how gravely ill he was, he faced the reality of his illness with a dignity and courage that will remain with me and humble me for the rest of my life.

Now that my father’s flame has flickered out as has so many of the “Greatest Generation.” We his family will always be grateful for the sacrifices he and so many others gave, and the love they showed us that we might lead our children and grandchildren to a brighter and more prosperous future. We love you and will miss you dad more than words can tell.

Best Wishes,

Michael Howard and Family