I wrote this eulogy for Ted Nilson and read it at his funeral service yesterday. The service was well attended by friends, family and neighbors. He will be sorely missed.
I thought Ted would appreciate it if I started this remembrance with a quote from a politican. The trick was to find something from a politician that Ted and I could both agree upon. But I think found one. President Woodrow Wilson said that “There is no higher religion than human service. To work for the common good is the greatest creed.”
Like many men in his generation, Ted’s service began very literally in World War II. Ted was a sailor with the U.S. Coast Guard, and Ted and I spoke many times about his deployment in the South Pacific. Whenever we talked about it, Ted would try to impress upon me that his role wasn’t terribly heroic. Well, I’ve always respected Ted’s humility, but I’m pretty sure we can say without exaggeration that serving on a ship in the middle of a war zone is dangerous.
With assistance from the G.I. bill, Ted earned a bachelor’s degree and two master’s degrees in the field of health education. Ted earned his second masters from Harvard, and often liked to remind us that “you can always tell a Harvard man, but you can’t tell him much.” For 31 years, Ted served in various capacities in education and health policy, most notably as the executive director of the Maine Lung Association.
In the balance of his working years, Ted chose a career path upon which he served his country, and served to educate and to improve the quality of life of others. I think Woodrow Wilson would have been proud to know him.
On a personal level, the thing that always struck me the most about Ted were the things that he and I had in common. The obvious similarity would be our tendency to make speeches. Both of us were often moved to verbosity by everyday occurrences, and thankfully were both wedded to women who would tolerate the occasional dissertation. But the other thing we had in common was a certain heightened awareness to the profound value of those simple, everyday kinds of moments.
On many occasions, as we gathered around the table for holiday dinners, Ted didn’t just want to say grace, but also to say something about that moment. He wanted to call everyone’s attention to the happy miracle of our gathering. And even if Ted didn’t always exercise perspicacity in pursuit of a toast’s pulchritudinous loquaciousness, I think we all understood what he was really saying. Ted was saying that he loved his wife and family dearly, and that being together with them was the finest thing he could have.
Ted was particularly enthralled with his grandchildren. I remember him talking sports and playing cribbage with Matt on many occasions. And he was pretty crazy about his Nilson girls. At one of the first Nilson family gatherings that I attended, I remember sitting with Ted on the back porch of Ken and Cathy’s house. He looked at his granddaughters and then at me and asked: “Have you ever seen a lovelier bunch of blond-haired beauties? On second thought, don’t answer that.”
Another great politician and writer, Benjamin Franklin, said that “Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it.” We are very much in Ted’s presence today. Let’s remember him for his service and dedication, and also for his dry wit and kind heart. We love you, Ted, and we’re going to miss you very much.
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