Milo – Lewis M. Dyer Jr., born January 13, 1934 to Wilhelmina (Theiling) and Lewis Dyer in Portland, ME, passed away quietly at his home Friday January 6, 2017, one week shy of his 83rd birthday. After graduating from Deering HS where he lettered in track, he earned an Associate’s Degree from Bentley School of Accounting in Boston, MA. He then served his country in the USAF, after which he attended UMO, earning a BA in Business Administration and meeting his wife, Hope. He had a lengthy career at the Texaco bulk plant in South Portland, retiring in 1995. Gregarious and well loved by all who knew him, Lewis is remembered fondly for his dedication to serving the community, his generosity, his kindness, his wonderful singing voice and his incredible fruitcake. He was a driving force in the Milo Food Cupboard, advocating tirelessly and reading every ad to find the best buys. He also served as the local area representative of FEMA, expanding the funding for and awareness of the needs of the community, and was very active in the United Methodist Church, where he loved to raise his voice in song. Lewis is survived by his loving wife of 53 years, Hope (Lovejoy) Dyer; his children, Lawrence, Sheryl, and Stephen Dyer; his sisters Mary Cottle and Katharine Curtis and his brother F. William Dyer. He leaves four grandchildren, Zachary, Kyle and Natasha Dyer, and Niall Bourke, as well as many nieces and nephews. Friends are invited to call 5-8pm Thursday, January 12, 2017, at the Lary Funeral Home, Milo. A funeral celebrating Lew’s life will be held 1pm Friday, January 13, with reception following, at the Park Street United Methodist Church, Milo, with Pastor Mike Morris officiating. A memorial service will be held 5pm Monday, January 16, with reception following, at Thornton Heights United Methodist Church, So. Portland, with Pastor Ami Sawtelle officiating. Memorial contributions may be made to the Milo Ecumenical Food Bank, PO Box 116, Milo, ME, 04463. Condolences may be expressed at www.laryfuneralhome.com. Eulogy written by Sheryl Dyer Our family has been struggling to try and sum up my father’s life. I think we’ve concluded it is simply not possible. There will never be enough words to convey what a patient, loving, caring, kind, talented, and devoted husband, father, brother, son, grandfather, uncle and man of God he was. I’ve been thinking about my father, about examples that might give some insight into who he was. Dad had an incredible sweet tooth. I remember him telling us that as young boy, he and his brother Bill used to raid the kitchen for Grammy Dyer’s rationed sugar and chocolate, and make fudge on a hotplate in their bedroom. Then they would eat it all, and hide the pans in their closet. He loved sweets of any kinds, but he particularly liked licorice, and Niall and his father made sure to bring several bags of his favorite licorice Allsorts home with them every time they went to Ireland. One of my earliest memories is of my father carrying me up the stairs at our apartment in Redbank. The weather was cold and nasty, so he unzipped his coat, tucked me inside it, and snug as a bug, he carried me up the stairs. Dad was very skilled at getting the best value for his dollar. When he shopped, he tirelessly looked for sales, two-for-1 deals, and used coupons. When he found those deals, he’d pick up an extra box of hot cocoa, of instant oatmeal, of cereal, and the next time he came to Boston he brought a care package with him with all these goodies for us. He later put those “extreme deal shopping” skills to good use for his “baby”, his pet project the Milo food cupboard, working tirelessly, saving them thousands of dollars and feeding hundreds of hungry families each month. When I was quite pregnant with Niall and was up visiting my parents and it came time for me to go home, dad stopped me. He said, “Well I suppose I ought to go with you. Let me get my coat on.” I said, “Why?” He said, “Well, you probably shouldn’t drive that whole way by yourself.” I asked, “How are you going to get home if you come with me?” He said mom could come down and get him, or maybe he could take a bus or something, and I said, “Daddy. I’m pregnant. That’s all. I’m not injured, I’m not disabled. I’m pretty sure I can drive to So. Portland all by myself .” He said, “Are you sure?” I said, “Yes, of course I am!” o He chauffeured us all uncomplainingly anywhere we needed to go, and we joked about getting him a chauffeur’s cap o He loved to play volleyball at family reunions. o We went camping, and we took family vacations o He had an extremely strong work ethic, and went to work every day, even if he was sick, unless he was in the hospital having surgery done. o To his dying day he and my mother held hands everywhere they went o Mom and dad square danced together for years and truly enjoyed it o He supported mom’s ambitions at preaching o He sent us to college o He played racquetball with Larry and Stephen Hope was frequently called to preach or take a position as a local pastor in area Methodist churches. Dad was supportive of her calling, was enthusiastic about driving her to and from her church, and truly enjoyed sharing his musical worship with that congregation. Dad loved to sing. He sang in a barbershop quartet in South Portland, (The Heights Men). He sang in the choir and soloed in almost every church he ever attended. Several times he participated in local community theater shows, and he delighted in singing with me. At my wedding, dad sang “Daddy’s little Girl” to me. Dad was good-natured, often goofy, and had a good sense of humor. When he was doing Guys and Dolls at the Lyric Theatre, he and mom decided to invite their best friends Joan and Dick to come see it, but not to tell them he was in the show. The 3 of them took their seats, and Dick and Joan started to worry that Dad was going to be late. Mom told them, “He’ll be here, don’t worry.” A gentleman came and sat in the seat next to mom and Dick and Joan started to worry that he’d taken dad’s seat: mom just said “it’s fine, it’ll be alright”. They didn’t quite know what to think until dad came out on stage, and they realized they’d been bamboozled! One of dad’s absolute favorite musicians was Neil Diamond. Whenever Neil Diamond came to New England, dad would pull the double full-page ad out of the newspaper and tape it to the wall in the kitchen. It never seemed to be destined to happen, however, as either the concert was too far away, or we couldn’t swing the cost of the tickets, or the concert was sold out. His love of Neil Diamond rubbed off on us children, however, and when Neil Diamond came to Denver, Colorado, Larry bought tickets for himself, his daughter Natasha, and his wife at the time, Gina. As Larry told dad in a phone call about purchasing the tickets and their intention of attending the concert, Larry noticed some disappointment in his father’s voice. Larry, knowing dad’s lifelong dream to see Neil Diamond in concert, made a decision that day to make his father’s dream come true. After researching concert dates and locations, Larry was able to purchase tickets to the Neil Diamond concert in Worcester, MA, for mom, dad, Stephen and myself. He arranged for mom to film dad’s reaction when he opened the letter containing the tickets, and you can see one of those pictures in the digital slideshow being shown on the monitor. Dad was stunned and moved. I have only seen a glimmer of tears in my father’s eyes 4 times in my life. When Grammy Dyer died, when Dick Dellatore passed away, when he first saw me in my wedding dress, and in the video of him opening up those tickets. While at that concert, watching the band play their last song and leave the stage, he stood up to put his coat on and assist mom with hers. I leaned across and said to him, “Wait, dad – if you clap your hands and yell ‘encore’, Neil Diamond might come out and sing 1 or 2 more songs!” He turned to mom and said, “Oh! Oh, Hope!! Clap your hands! Clap your hands: if we clap our hands Neil Diamond might sing another song!” and like the story about Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, we all clapped our hands and shouted, and sure enough the band came back out and played a lengthy encore. I wish I had been filming dad during that exchange; I would have loved for Larry to see it. It was one of the highlights of Dad’s life. Dad was also famous for his homemade fruitcake; it was his mother’s recipe. He converted many fruitcake haters into fruitcake lovers in his life, and folks would line up early for the bake table at the church fair to make sure they would get a piece before it sold out. Frequently those folks later came knocking on my parents’ door, asking if he possibly had any more to sell them. A wise fellow single mom once told me that we had been read far too many fairy tales as young girls. That there was no white knight. There was no white horse. There was no young prince riding in to save the day. That if anything was going to get done, we were just going to have to do it ourselves. My dad was that white knight. He was that imperfect, sometimes misguided, but always well-meaning prince. That was my dad. Having him for my father has sometimes made it hard to find a good man in my life: you have to work pretty hard to measure up to my father. As I was writing these notes a bible passage kept running through my mind. As I read it to you, every time I say “love”, think of replacing that word with “Lew”. This is from 1 Chorinthians 13:4-8 “4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8 Love never fails…” That was Lewis Matthew Dyer, Jr.