Eulogy for Professor Brian A. Freeman

Good morning. On behalf of our family, we'd like to thank each one of you for being here today to honor my dad. Those of you who know my mother must be surprised at witnessing one of those rare occurrences when she's not taking the opportunity to make a speech.

Those of you who know my father may think it strange that we're sitting here today in a church. This was actually his request as this is the church where he and my mom were married 34 years ago this July.

As I look out at all who are gathered here and as I think back to all the cards, phone calls & visitations over the last several weeks, I am reminded that Brian Arold Freeman, while he has been Dad to Kirsten and me, was so much more - husband, teacher, colleague, mentor, family, friend.

I've always been proud to share with my father the same middle name, the same deep voice, the same dashing good looks. Admittedly, we've not often shared the same political views. My freshman year at Carleton College I helped vote one of my professor's into the US Senate, none other than Paul Wellstone, Democrat & professed socialist. I'm also pretty sure my dad blames me for eight years of Clinton/Gore. As a result of our differing viewpoints, though, we've shared a number of good conversations and debates over the years. He never tried to force us to his way of thinking, he merely wanted us to examine our own thoughts and be certain of our opinions. The same is true of our careers and interests. While he pushed us to excel, he never shoved. And while he had questions about our careers, we never questioned his support. Along with mom, they visited us wherever we called home, be it Washington D.C. or L.A., California. Our family was often scattered around the country, but Dad (& Mom) always took every opportunity to say that they loved us and that they were proud of us. Whenever Kirsten and I came home to visit them, Dad would always see us off at the end of the visit with "Take care". It was his way of saying "Be safe, and I love you."

Whenever I was home from college, I was always amused by the number of people (including many of you) who would call and think that I was him as I answered the phone. That was outdone only by the time a friend of mine called and proceeded to vent about her boyfriend, until finally after listening for a moment, my Dad told her "Hang on, let me tell Kevin you're on the phone."

Then there were the phone calls in the years following our Mom's Ph.D. conferral. Dad, who...