My Daddy...

Robert C. Snider ("Bob"), my Daddy, passed away on Feb. 23, 2005. Follows is the euology which I wrote and spoke for him at the funeral...

Daddy was the quintessential jack of all trades, and, uniquely, he was master of them all. He was a handyman of enormous skill and technical prowess. He could build just about anything Mama happened to dream up, from room additions, to planning/pouring myriad sidewalks and flower beds to adorn the yard, to a gazebo for the backyard—which he then had to put on wheels because Mama kept wanting to move it—to a lighted, spinning ferris wheel at Christmastime. I remember him working on cars, lawn mowers, tractors, mini bikes, and go carts throughout the years, and I loved helping him. He bought and filled my first tool box, and I’m proud to say that he raised a daughter who knows the difference between a Phillips and a flat-head screw driver.

My Daddy was a man of amazing intelligence, and I never, ever would have made it through algebra without him. I used to bring home some really nasty word problems and complicated formulas to solve, and though he himself never once sat in any such class, he figured out the answers with startling speed. The catch, of course, was getting him to explain exactly *how* he got the answers, but the answers, thankfully, were always right :)

Daddy was a true Snider. He loved to talk and he loved to tell stories. I used to giggle with delight when he would tell tales of boyhood mischief with long-time friend Gerald Davis, and racing cars around Mansfield with his brothers. I loved the way his eyes sparkled when he told the story of how he met Mama at a car hop, and how when offering her a piece of chewing gum through his driver’s side window, he purposefully dropped it on the ground so she’d be forced to get out of her girlfriend’s car and he could see how she was built.

Daddy was a talented writer, and he showered Mama with poems throughout their 43 years of marriage. One of my favorite birthday memories was an impromptu scavenger hunt. It just so happened that both Mama and Daddy had to work that day, and to keep me occupied they hid a bunch of little presents throughout the house and Daddy wrote clues that rhymed in order for me to find them. Things like a Paul McCartney record left on my stereo turn table was left with yet another clue.

He penned letters to the editors of both the Mansfield paper and the Star Telegram on topics ranging from politics, to city maintenance matters, to computers, to a funny and heart-warming letter about how he put Mama and her best friend Jan on a plane to Vegas for a fun weekend. They were barely gone when he wrote about how much he missed them. He also wrote country & western songs.

Daddy loved country music and some of the fondest childhood memories I have are those spent in Gerald Davis’ music room where Daddy sang (sometimes in tune, sometimes not) and played bass guitar (again, sometimes in tune, and sometimes not!). Daddy was a simple man and loved camping and fishing. I spent many a gloriously hot summer out on Cedar Creek lake with our friends and family, playing music, roasting hotdogs, and zipping around the lake in my Grandaddy’s boat.

Daddy was proud to be an American and proud to be a Texan, and heaven help you if you didn’t respect that. Daddy served his country by joining the Navy, and he served his home-town by spending several years on the volunteer fire department. One of my fondest memories is how, bursting with pride, I led my Daddy in full uniform—complete with badge!—into my elementary school where he spoke to everyone about fire safety. Afterwards, he took us all—including the teacher—on a ride around the parking lot in big old firetruck number eleven-twelve.

Daddy had no tolerance for ignorance and stupidity. He read the riot act to many a fast-food employee and grocery store sacker over the years. I used to live for his spirited stories about the long, hot days working at Carnation Can plant; and I wanted to grow up and be just like him—assertive, confident and quite capable of putting people in their place when they needed it. Daddy didn’t take anything off of anyone and I respected that.

Though however gruff he could sometimes be, he was nothing but a big, strong teddy bear toward Mama and I. He made us coffee every morning and on Sundays he taught me how to drink it. He made midnight trips up to Whataburger to fetch Mama exactly three (no more, no less) fried apple pies. He drove us on vacations every summer, and put up ten-tons of Christmas lights every winter. He spoiled us both absolutely rotten, and filled our lives with love and affection. Daddy doted on us in galactic proportions, and he worked many long hours to support and provide for us. He took care of us physically, emotionally, and spiritually, and though we’ll do our best to get along without him, life will never, ever be the same.