My father was a generous man. He taught me many lessons that I have tried to emulate and one of those is generosity. We lived in a small town of less than 2,000 people. It was well-known in our town that if someone showed up in town with a vehicle in need of repairs and no money to pay for those repairs they would likely end up at my father’s shop. Sometimes what was needed to get the person or family back on the road was a tank of gas. If they showed up at dinner time, which for us was at noon, they’d likely come to our house for a meal before traveling on. Sometimes their vehicle needed new parts or a bit of welding. It would end up in our shop with repairs being made in the most cost-effective way possible. When they were unable to pay the bill, they’d be put on the road anyway, usually with a full tank of gas and probably with a package of sandwiches as well.

One of the things that my father liked was meeting new people. He could strike up conversation with strangers. If we went on an airplane or a boat, he would always try to meet the captain and learn about how the vessel worked. He was a pilot and he was able to use his gift of talking to get us tours of cockpits of airplanes and bridges of ships. Once when we were on a family trip to Washington, DC and unable to find a parking place, he pulled into the driveway of a complete stranger and talked his way into a parking place for the day. Sometimes his desire to banter with strangers embarrassed us kids. We’d try to talk him into just being a part of the crowd, but that wasn’t his way.

He was always eager to learn new things. He tried to learn several different foreign languages and was unafraid to try his language skills even when his accent rendered him beyond understanding for native speakers. If he had one or two words, he’d try to use them.

He thought that if he liked something, it would be liked by everyone. If he was in the mood for root beer floats, everyone got one. He’d buy root beer by the gallon and ice cream by the bucketful and start making shakes. He never asked whether or not others liked the taste of root beer. I don’t think he could imagine that there were people who did not like that flavor.

He served on the boards of several nonprofit corporations and was always generous to causes in which he believed. It was through his desire to serve that he ended up representing our state at a national meeting of the Alliance for the Mentally Ill. It was at that meeting that he met Rosalynn Carter. When her husband ran to become the President of the United States most of his friends and neighbors were members of the Republican Party. He made no bones about trying to convince them to vote for Jimmy Carter, often saying that he knew two things about Carter that would make him a good president. First, he had a good wife. Second he was a farmer. That combination, he argued, was the kind of leadership the country needed. When someone protested that Carter had too little national and international experience, Dad would argue that farming and maintaining a good marriage were far more complex than international politics.

Of course my father’s appreciation for Carter went beyond his success as a farmer and husband. My father appreciated his courage standing up for civil rights. He felt a connection with Carter, who was a veteran of military service who had developed a serious vision of world peace like my dad. He admired Carter’s experience in the Great Depression and his dedication to his church, other traits they shared. Carter was the first candidate for US president who was younger than my father.

And Dad started serving Jimmy Carter sundaes. Our local creamery sold ice cream in five gallon containers and he made room in our freezer for one. Anyone who visited our house was served vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and chocolate syrup. They weren’t asked whether or not they wanted one, they were served and if they questioned the dish he’d say, “Try it. You’ll like it.”

I lost my father when I was young. He died before his 60th birthday. He died while Jimmy Carter was still in office.

I was married and ordained by the time my dad died, but I still had a lot to learn. I found myself seeking mentors who were near my father’s age. My father-in-law was an important part of my life for more years than my father had been. I also looked up to some of the leaders my father admired. Although i never met him face to face, I paid attention to Jimmy Carter who without doubt in my mind became the greatest former President in our nation’s history. When I couldn’t make sense of international politics, I turned to the Carter Center for information. When Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter volunteered with Habitat for humanity, I volunteered with Habitat. I looked up to him as a model and mentor.

A lot of years have gone by since Jimmy Carter was president and my father was alive. During that time I completed my active career and reached my retirement. One of my models for retirement has clearly been Jimmy Carter. He eschewed wealth and lived simply. Unlike other former presidents he returned to his old home after serving as President. At the time of his death a single secret service vehicle parked outside the Carter home was worth more than the house where the former president lived. I admire that style. He enjoyed his long and successful marriage with Rosalyn and always treated her as an equal partner. He served others faithfully. He was never ashamed of his faith. He taught Sunday School and worshiped with his congregation.

And now the story of Jimmy Carter’s earthly journey has come to its conclusion. There will be a lot of tributes made and stories told. My personal grief feels like the loss of a dear family friend. Somehow, I hope that I can use the things he has taught me to invest the time I have left wisely in the service of others regardless of which way the winds of politics blow.