Eulogy by Bill Pickett
As we gather together to pay our respects to Charles Rodman
Pickett, it is a sad occasion at the loss of our father and your
friend, but also a joyous occasion, in that it is a time to
remember him and to tell wonderful stories about his life.
It is an opportunity for family members to reunite, as it has
been many years since we have all been together, and it is a
time to celebrate his journey to heaven, where I am sure
he is now, looking down upon us all.
 
These last few days with family members have been
enlightening and given new meaning to his life. Many of the
stories told by Chuck, Susan, John and Tom were not
experienced by Jim, Bob, Bill, Mary and Tina and vice versa.
But the stories all center around one underlining theme:
Dad was a compassionate and sensitive man in every aspect
of his life, but he was also an intense man.
 
Throughout his life he wore many different hats. Born in
New Haven, CT, he was a son to Charles Pickett and
Mildred MacNamera and a brother to two sisters,
Betty Hackbarth and Carole Izzo.
 
Growing up in the streets of East Haven and running around
with his friends playing baseball, football, and running track,
he eventually settled down and became a loving husband to a
wonderful woman, Laura Grace Civitello. Every year he was
good for hugs and kisses and a five-pound box of Russell
Stover's chocolates. After marriage he continued his education
becoming a micropaleontologist. Try telling that to your
friends in third grade on "What my father does for a living?"
day. Best left said, he plays with rocks.
 
Next, he endured his most difficult and yet enjoyable hat as
father. First there was one child and then another, and
another, and another until there were nine. Being one of the
youngest, I was never treated to the pregnancy talk at the
dinner table, but for Chuck and Susan it became a scene
played over so many times that it sounded like a broken
record. “Hey kids, your mother is pregnant again.” And to all
the people in the world that we have encountered, the
answer is “Yes, we are Catholic.”
 
As a father, Rod made sure of several certainties: an Astro's
Baseball game most Sundays complete with a Nutty Bar during
the Seventh inning stretch; quality time at the zoo, including
camera time on a local television station; family time at
Tenwood, complete with cold chicken and potato salad and all
those turtles that were caught; and the inevitable “You need
to take a Geology course in college” speech. He was there for
all of us, at anytime, at anyplace. Despite the difficult times
when lessons had to be learned, he was a wonderful father and
an inspiring man.
 
In the twilight of his life, he became a grandfather to 11
grandchildren. He did everything he could to make sure that
the grandchildren knew who he was, unfortunately his health
caught up to him and he spent the last three and a half years
in a nursing home, unable to spend the time he thought he
was going to have. I personally feel blessed that my son got
the chance to meet him, the man I looked up to my entire life.
 
There is still one more hat that is dear to our hearts and that
is the role of servant to God. Rod grew up in the Catholic
Church, where he was an altar boy and later in life looked into
the deaconate. He made sure that all of the kids went to
church every Sunday or Saturday as the case may be. It was
not a difficult choice for the kids. You either went to the
45 minute Saturday evening mass with dad, or you had to
go to the 9:00 am Sunday mass with mother, with every one
else and with the adult choir. Boy, was that a long mass.
Needless to say, if you could go with dad, you did. I can
remember filling up an entire pew at Christmas time in the
old church, being an altar boy and going to Sunday school for
the first time. As children, he made sure that we all followed
the Catholic faith.
 
Rod had a full life and traveled around the world. He took his
family to Columbia, Bolivia, Trinidad and exotic Houston. He
worked in tropical Algeria, tropical Guyana and the icebox of
Alaska. But he always returned to those things which were
important to him: his family, his friends and his faith. I am
reminded of Luke’s Gospel, as the women of Galilee came to
see Jesus after his death, they were amazed that he was not
there. Two dazzling appareled men appeared and said, “Why
are you looking for the living among the dead?” Rod’s body
may have passed on, but his soul will live forever with God.
 
Finally as I look around, I see the many faces whose lives he
has touched, and I see the many faces God has touched
through him. I know that my dad would have been very
moved to see everyone, and the family appreciates your
presence here today.