Eulogy

Bert Melbourne Robertson – Eulogy

Delivered 19 Jul 2014 by Michael Robertson

Provo, Utah

I join with you today in remembering and honoring a righteous man—a loving father, grandfather, and friend—one who is faithful to sacred covenants and to family responsibilities. I love and appreciate my father and his example. I appreciate so many of you family and friends being here with us today.

Bert Melbourne Robertson was born October 23, 1921, in Lovell Wyoming, to John Wesley and Edna Harmer Robertson. Second of six children, he was born to a family rich in pioneer heritage. Dad lived a life full of family, music, faith, and service. Airplanes held a special interest to him, but he also loved camping, hiking, snow skiing, and water skiing. Yosemite was a favorite family reunion gathering place.

Dad’s older brother Jay was born 20 months before, so they were close growing up. Although a younger sister Beth lived only a few hours, the family grew with the birth of siblings Elaine, Donald, and Marilyn. All his siblings, except for Elaine, are here with us today.

With their father in elementary and secondary education, the family moved several times, living in Springville, Utah; Byron, Wyoming; Huntington, Utah; and Kelsey, Texas. One summer was spent in Palo Alto, California, while their father attended Stanford. Dad’s memories of these years are filled with music, learning to play the piano, alto horn, and baritone. He played duets with Jay and received awards in musical competitions. Of course, he also remembers getting into mischief, including hitching a sled ride behind an automobile.

After a year at a junior college in Texas, Dad struck out on his own, hopping on a boxcar to ride the rails back to Provo, where he joined the Civilian Conservation Corps. On completion of his service in the CCC, the aircraft business was booming due to the war in Europe, so he took a bus to Los Angeles, where he learned to be an aircraft mechanic.

Dad married Martha Gray in April of 1942. He was drafted shortly after the United States joined the Allied Forces of World War II, was inducted at Fort Bliss, Texas, and then sent to Camp Kearns, Utah. He was especially proud of qualifying as an expert on carbine and 50-caliber machine gun. Although he was on his way to instrumentation technicians’ school, learning to look after instruments and airplanes, soon to be headed overseas, the band was in need of an alto horn player. He soon was a member of the 390th Army Air Force Band, rehearsing hours every day for their radio show, for garrison parades, and for playing the troops off to the train as they were headed to war. In time, they replaced their alto horns with French horns. Dad spent the entire war in the band at Camp Kearns. After the war ended in 1945, Dad moved his family back to Los Angeles, where he got an Aircraft and Engine mechanics license on the GI bill and worked on the flight line for Douglas Aircraft. Their daughter Diana was born in March, 1946, but after a few years, Dad’s marriage to Martha ended.

With his love of music, it made sense for Dad to go back to college at UCLA, majoring in music, with the intent of being a music teacher.

I am not sure of the timing, but at some point my Grandfather Robertson completed optometry school and set up practice in Los Angeles. He was called to serve as bishop of the Mar Vista Ward, and enlisted Dad to accompany the ward choir.

My mother, Mary Doan, records the following in her life history.

“While singing in the Mar Vista Ward choir, I met my new husband to-be. Bert was the choir organist. For our first date, in May 1952, we went to a ward square dance. That was to begin, if not the happiest, certainly the most exciting and busiest part of my life thus far. Bert showed me a part of life I had never seen before. Music played a big part in his life. He was finishing college at UCLA to become a Music Teacher. He took me to my first opera. I attended my first ballet at the Hollywood Bowl. We took trips to Yosemite and Sequoia and Kings Canyon. I saw snow for the first time on these trips.”

“Bert had a yellow convertible when we met, and although many said it was the convertible that first attracted my attention, I knew that it wasn’t the convertible, but the driver that I liked. The yellow convertible was just [one of] the fringe benefits.”

Mary was a recent convert to the church, whose previous marriage had also ended. Bert and Mary were married in the Salt Lake City Temple, in August 1953, where they made sacred covenants and were endowed with power from on high. After they were married for time and eternity, my mother’s two children, Roberta, age 10, and Rodney, age 8, were sealed to them. They settled in Campo, California, fifty miles east of San Diego, where my father started his teaching career at Mountain Empire High School. He taught girl’s and boy’s glee and beginning instruments and band. The band marched in many parades, including the Mother Goose Parade of El Cajon and the Toyland parade of North Park.

With the long drive into town of an hour or more, Dad got quite a bit of experience delivering babies. They had five children while living in Campo. I was born in December 1954, on the side of the road at the Julian turn off on Highway 80 between Guatay and Descanso. With a retired doctor living in Campo, Rebecca was born at home in March 1957, but Dad still delivered her and was cleaning up as the doctor arrived. Mark was born in December 1958, along Highway 80, near Flinn Springs Park—they were getting closer. Marybeth was born in February 1961, making it to the hospital with minutes to spare. Esther was also born at the hospital in June, 1963.

The first of their grandchildren were born the same year as Esther. Deborah was born to Roberta and Don Roberts in May and Richard was born to Rod and Barbara in November.

The Campo years were filled with life. The family faithfully attended church every week, spending Sunday in town. Dad built an airplane from a wreck that he and Mom would use to fly to the Los Angeles Temple. Grandpa Robertson would pick them up at the airport, and return them on completion of their service. They also took Mom’s parents on trips to Catalina and the Grand Canyon. One year, Dad almost died of appendicitis, Mom suffered from Scarlet Fever after childbirth. Although our sister Diana usually only spent the summers with our family, it was decided she would live with us during the school year beginning her sophomore year in high school.

In 1964, the family moved to El Cajon. Dad recalls “The plan was for me to commute to work and the family to live in town. I bought the house even before I got the job. I had [received] my masters in the hopes that when a job was open at Mountain Empire High School I could be a vice principal but it never happened. They completely ignored me in that area. So I was pretty much out of there. I got tired of hauling the family to church and it was time to find a job in town. I got a job with the Santee School District.”

After moving into town, we lived close enough to church to walk and Dad was able to ride his bike to work. He built up the music program in the schools where he worked. We had music in our home. We all sang and played an instrument. Although he had me start out learning to play the Baritone in elementary school, he talked me into switching to violin so we could have a better family ensemble. The whole family played stringed instruments. One year, Dad was enlisted to teach Spanish in Jr High. Since he did not speak the language, he had to keep one lesson ahead of his students. He was glad to return to a curriculum of all music the next year. We always had fruit trees and a vegetable garden. Dad liked to be self-sufficient and everyone enjoyed of the bounty of his garden.

Dad and Mom were always looking out for their children. When Rod and Barbara’s marriage ended, Dad and Mom took in their children, Richard, David, and Sheri as their own. When Roberta’s marriage to Don ended, Deb had a place to come after school.

Tragedy struck our family in April 1971, when on a family vacation, our car went off the road, ending the life of our dear mother, Mary, and our sister, Rebecca. Family and friends rallied around us, helping to strengthen our faith and understanding of the plan of happiness, knowing we would one day be reunited as a family. Although our family has still not overcome the full effects of this tragedy, we are still working on it.

And so began a new chapter in our family story. Roberta came to live with us temporarily to help with the house and children. In time, she looked to our father as an example of a righteous priesthood holder and father, and made lists of his qualities by which to measure future marriage prospects. He in turn looked to her qualities as a mother and potential companion and was impressed to ask for her hand in marriage. They were married in the Los Angeles Temple for time in December, 1972, and six weeks later were sealed there for time and all eternity.

In their union, they grew the family with the birth’s of Elizabeth in November 1973, Eve in May 1976, and Anna in October 1979, while another generation was growing with the marriage of children and the birth of grandchildren, even until now with great grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren. Although it depends on how you count, Dad claims at least 86 descendants—it's a moving target.

While still in El Cajon, he served faithfully as high priest group leader then as counselor in the bishopric, both while still directing the ward choir. All his life has been one of service. He has helped many people with their car troubles, and could often be found on the ground under a car. Dad and Roberta would host family gatherings on the first Sunday of every month and on Holidays. Family Christmas caroling was an annual tradition.

In 2001, after all the kids had been raised, Dad and Roberta moved to Hemet, California, where he began serving in the Redlands Temple. They made new friends and found old friends too.

In 2006, Dad was impressed to move to Provo, Utah. He couldn’t even wait for his house to be sold. Once he found a place, he left the Hemet house in Rob’s care and took off. Most of us were surprised to find they had moved. Aunt Elaine called me to see if I knew why their phone had been disconnected. The move was good for Dad. He enjoyed serving in the Provo Temple, playing French horn in the American Fork Symphony Orchestra, and serving as the ward organist and choir director. He also enjoyed being close to the BYU Campus, where he could attend concerts and participate in events. He bought a snow blower and enjoyed clearing the walks for his neighbors.

It brought great joy for Dad to see his children and grandchildren receive sacred ordinances—to be blessed, baptized, serve missions, and to be endowed and sealed in the Temple.

As a gift for his 90th birthday, Gail Woodfield, a family friend who is a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, invited Dad to sing as a guest member of the choir during a rehearsal. He had a great time! At the end of the rehearsal, they introduced the four guests, telling their name, where they were from, and a sentence about each of them. Dad was introduced last. They gave his name and said that he had just turned 90 the week before. The choir and audience clapped politely. Then they said that he has been a ward choir director for the last 57 years. The entire choir gave him a standing ovation! Gail said that she has never seen the choir do that ever before! Needless to say, Dad grinned the whole time!

In these last two months since his diagnosis, over 80 family members have visited. Although the cancer made him very tired, he would get up every morning, spending most of the day in his chair in the living room. He enjoyed listening to people visit. He especially enjoyed the laughter. He was alert until his very last days. We appreciated the opportunity to visit and say goodbye, and are thankful for the blessing that he was not in severe pain.

We honor Roberta, who has opened her heart and home to many. For her love and care of Dad and for the great companionship they shared for 41 years—for being a devoted grandmother to their grandchildren and great grandchildren. We know she will miss him, but are comforted by her faith they will be reunited.

I was the first of five children born to Bert and Mary in the covenant. I was taught the gospel of Jesus Christ as I grew, and I looked forward to the day that I could be baptized and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. From my youth my father taught me many things—how to enjoy life, to work hard and to play. From his example, I learned to love and cherish my wife and our children. I always knew that my father loved my mother. I attribute my love of music to him. But above all, I learned to love God and to serve Him.

Thank you, Dad, we love you.

Life’s trials and challenges are but learning opportunities—obstacles in our path to help us become who the Lord would have us become on our way back to our Father. I know that the inequities of this mortal world are healed through the Savior’s atonement. I bear testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the plan of happiness, through which we are all reunited, and do it in His sacred name, even Jesus Christ, Amen.