Our dad, Richard Cormier, was an unforgettable man. I think everyone that is here today will always remember him. He left an impact on each of us, based on our relationship with him. When I sat down to think about the years that I have known Dad, I was able to develop a clearer picture of him.

While I was growing up, many of my friends would tell me that Dad was handsome. Some even said he looked a lot like an actor named Hugh O’Brien, who played a sheriff on a popular TV show during the sixties. I think our dad got his good looks from his mother, Emma Hall. Emma had won a local beauty contest when she was living in Houlton, Maine. In any case, Dad’s striking looks often drew a lot attention from many females, and he always enjoyed their interest in him.

Although Dad received little formal education, he developed various skills throughout his life. After serving in the U.S. Coast Guard during World War II, Dad returned to Waltham, Massachusetts and began working as an orderly in the local hospital. There he learned a variety of medical procedures, so he could assist the patients in his ward.  Later, when Dad became a poultry farmer, he went from taking care of people to raising chickens and turkeys. I remember him teaching me how to collect eggs when the hens were sitting on them and how to hold a chicken’s legs as he beheaded it with an ax. When Dad made the decision to leave the farm, he learned how to do drywall and paint the inside and outside of homes. Dad took great pride in his work, and he tried to do his very best. With time, he earned an excellent reputation. Once, when he was spending the winter in Florida, he was asked to do some work on Burt Reynolds’s home.  Dad felt quite honored to be selected for a job on this famed actor’s mansion, and he felt a sense of accomplishment at seeing how far his hard work had taken him.  

I think many of us in the family remember that Dad was naturally humorous. He wasn’t trying to be funny; it just seemed to come out that way. For example, I’m sure you are all familiar with the fable about the grasshopper and the ant. The grasshopper played his fiddle all summer, instead of preparing for winter like the industrious ant. Logically, when winter came, the grasshopper was freezing and hungry, while the ant was warm and well fed. With this moral in mind, Dad attempted to illustrate to me that my lazy behavior was very similar to that of the grasshopper in the fable. However, when he tried to reference it, instead of saying “The Grasshopper and the Ant”, he said, “You remind me of the Grasshopper and the Rabbit.”  Immediately, I burst into gales of laughter. This made Dad quite angry, and he wanted to know what was so funny. Once I explained it to him, Dad began laughing even louder than I had, which made me laugh even more.

I’m not sure if any of you recall some of the stories Dad use to tell us at bedtime. There was one story that really stood out for me. It was about an angry bear that was charging at him, and all he had was a rifle and one bullet for protection. Dad told us this story several times, and each time he would add a few more details to it. As a kid, I really believed that Dad’s stories were true, but when I got older, I realized that Dad was just a great storyteller.

Most everyone that knows Dad will remember that he was a hard worker. With a family of eleven children to feed, Dad had his work cut out for him. After working all day, Dad would come home and take care of a house full of kids, so Mom could go off to work. Fortunately, Dad had served in the military, so he knew just how to organize all the necessary chores that needed to get done in order for the house to run smoothly. He also took care of any needed household painting or repairs. There was no end to his tasks.

Some people may not have known that Dad was a man of faith.  I can remember the times when he went to Holy Rosary Church with us on Sunday, and our family would take up nearly the entire length of the pew. While he was working for our parish, Dad would drop some of us off at the church each morning, so we could attend daily Mass before our school day. When we moved from Caribou to Bangor, we all attended St. Mary’s Church. With time, the church burned down, and a new one was built many miles from the original site. Despite this change, Dad drove the extra miles to attend St. Mary’s on Sundays. Not only did he attend Mass, he also served as an usher and a greeter. He wanted to do his part to serve his parish. 

These memories helped me to formulate a distinct picture of our dad.  He was a man of faith with a strong work ethic, a unique sense of humor, and an adaptable nature. I will never forget him or the lessons he tried to teach me, and I will cherish the happy memories that we shared.