Eulogy

Matt and Ben couldn't have spoken more beautifully about their dad. They somehow managed to upstage both a well known pastor and two college presidents with the weight of their words. Maybe there's just something about a man's own sons giving testimony to a faithful life that can't compare to anyone else's words, no matter how well crafted. I managed to hold back a well of tears right up until the moment Ben had a sanctuary full of people crying their way through Home On The Range. I can't imagine the courage it took but I should be used to this man of mine surprising me by now.

Yes, my Dad was Chinese.  He looked Chinese.  He spoke Chinese.  He ate Chinese.  But his story is an American story.  His family fled from Communist China in the 1940’s. He immigrated to America to get an education.  Once here, he even found himself a headstrong, American-style wife.  He even likened himself to some of America’s most famous icons:  Elvis Presley, John Wayne, and Frank Sinatra.  Frank Sinatra popularized the song “I did it my way”.  Ted Hsieh certainly did things his way.

As I got older, I began to realize how unique (and sometimes strange) that way was.  For example, the Hsieh family used to always have family dogs:  Camelot, Susan B. Anthony, Mei-mei.  As is natural with dogs, there were regular messes to clean up in the backyard.  My dad called these messes dog “goods” and the entire neighborhood could see him picking them up using a pair of chopsticks and a folded newspaper.  My friends rightfully teased me about this, and I asked “Well how do you guys pick it up?”  And they said “We use a shovel!”  And I thought you know … a shovel really makes more sense.  But that was his way.

I remember while playing soccer in high school, I would sometimes peek over at the sidelines to see what my parents were up to.  Only to find my father in the grass doing stretches or push-ups as if he were preparing to enter the game himself.  Or the way he treated every McDonalds like it was his own personal Costco.  He would collect all the napkins and condiments he could, and stockpile them at home for a rainy day.  He was unique.  He did things his way.

What amazes me was that “his way” was so effortlessly selfless and fully of joy.  My wife is fond of mentioning that Dad’s mantra seemed to be “I’ll go to wherever I’m needed.”  And he seemed to take so much pleasure in that.  Whether it meant waiting on a bench for his grandchildren to finish the Dumbo ride.  Or packing up a U-haul and driving my stuff to California.  Or faithfully caring for his long-lived mother at the Strawberry Creek Lodge.  

This was the Ted Hsieh way, and in honor of that I’d like us to sing a song that speaks to both his uniqueness and his joyful optimism:  “Home on the Range”.

This song is likely not meant to be spiritualized.  But, dangit, I’m going to do it anyway.  Dad, it feels like we did not have enough time with you here.  But you went to where you needed to go.  And  I take comfort in knowing that boldly you approached the eternal throne.  And now savor your home in the presence of the Savior.  A home without clouds.  A home that surpasses the unbridled joy you showed here.   

I will start the first verse then please join me in chorus.  The words are in the memory book if any of you need it. 

Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam,

Where the deer and the antelope play.

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,

And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Home, home on the range,

Where the deer and the antelope play,

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,

And the skies are not cloudy all day. 

Thank you Dad. Welcome home.