Fun and kind. Anyone who had time for me was truly special in my life. One day, as a favor, Doug packed all my drums into the trunk of his big old Cadillac...one, two ,three, every one tossed in with a rhythm and ease. With a flourish that would make an entertainer proud, he then tossed in his fall jacket, then the car keys (oops!) and slammed the lid closed. Uh oh! Mad? Cursing? No! Doug laughed his butt off then went off to try to find another set of keys. Very sorry to hear that you're gone, man.
Doug Funsett was my closest male friend. We both went to the same church and to Albion college. As freshmen, we dated briefly, but it was definitely not "When Harry Met Sally," to my mother's disappointment! Fortunately, we were able to maintain our friendship afterwards.
Doug had a ready smile, and a quirky, self-deprecating sense of humor. He was completely genuine, despised pretense, and took whatever life dealt in stride. He was into music, cars and airplanes, and loved his stint in the Air Force.
I introduced him to his wife, Rochelle, a dancer who had her own studio. Although I remained in Michigan and they moved to Maumee with his job as a health care administrator, we kept in touch by phone and usually got together a couple times a year. He was laid off when the hospital he was affiliated with downsized, and his insurance expired before he was able to find another job. Shortly afterwards, Rochelle was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer and could not get insurance coverage, due to her pre-existing condition. They couldn't afford any of the more drastic treatments and the cancer won out in 1994, leaving Doug alone to raise their two young daughters aged 11 and 7.
Just a few short years later, it was Doug's turn to face cancer of the prostate, usually very treatable. If I recall correctly, we got together in May of 1999, and he was undergoing hormone therapy, but was optimistic. He was in a relationship with someone who made him happy, and other than the cancer, all was going well.
I was extremely busy and didn't check in with him for months, figuring he would certainly contact me if anything big was going on. I attended a music conference in February and ran into a teacher from Maumee. Making conversation, I asked her if she had ever had either of the Funsett girls, and she said yes, and then, "That is so tragic, isn't it?" And that is how I discovered that Doug had died, leaving two orphaned teens behind. What a terrible kick in the stomach, and what incredible regret that I was so occupied with my hectic life that I wasn't there for him when he most needed it!
Now, of course, not a week goes by that I don't think of him fondly and sadly.
I am so saddened to hear about Doug's passing. I had the pleasure him of knowing and playing football together under Coach Heinlin. He had a delightful personality and was so much fun to be around. I do remember his unique and joyful laugh. What a tragic story about his loss and his wife's. I pray for his children and they should have the comfort in knowing how well their dad thought of even in the old days back in high school. I can relate to this sad story since my brother Ron, Shaker grad of 1962 left this world long before his time leaving young children similar to Doug. The memory of those like Doug is what keeps them alive in our hearts and minds.
Doug was a good friend of mine. We talked when he first found out about his terminal condition and he asked me not to come see him. So, I waited until he died and I went to his funeral in Toledo. But that's not what I want to talk about.
I bought a 16mm camera when I was in 7th grade to make movies with. I met Doug in 8th at Byron. He starred in many of my knockoff "movies." One Saturday, a neighbor of mine, Jim Armstrong (Class of 1967) and I decided to make a cowboy western movie in Jim's backyard on Chargin Blvd. It was winter, snow everywhere. We called up Doug and asked him to show up dressed as an Indian. An hour later, he appeared swathed in a huge red, white, and black plaid Indian blanket (Doug was tall), jeans, moccasins, and the red brush end of window scraper tied to the back of his head as his feathers. We shot all afternoon. With the lights of the surrounding houses in the background, we decided to call our western saga, "The Last Frontier". Doug made the show! He had great acting skills and terrific comedy timing.
Gary Collins
Fun and kind. Anyone who had time for me was truly special in my life. One day, as a favor, Doug packed all my drums into the trunk of his big old Cadillac...one, two ,three, every one tossed in with a rhythm and ease. With a flourish that would make an entertainer proud, he then tossed in his fall jacket, then the car keys (oops!) and slammed the lid closed. Uh oh! Mad? Cursing? No! Doug laughed his butt off then went off to try to find another set of keys. Very sorry to hear that you're gone, man.
Betsy Owen (Marsh)
Doug Funsett was my closest male friend. We both went to the same church and to Albion college. As freshmen, we dated briefly, but it was definitely not "When Harry Met Sally," to my mother's disappointment! Fortunately, we were able to maintain our friendship afterwards.
Doug had a ready smile, and a quirky, self-deprecating sense of humor. He was completely genuine, despised pretense, and took whatever life dealt in stride. He was into music, cars and airplanes, and loved his stint in the Air Force.
I introduced him to his wife, Rochelle, a dancer who had her own studio. Although I remained in Michigan and they moved to Maumee with his job as a health care administrator, we kept in touch by phone and usually got together a couple times a year. He was laid off when the hospital he was affiliated with downsized, and his insurance expired before he was able to find another job. Shortly afterwards, Rochelle was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer and could not get insurance coverage, due to her pre-existing condition. They couldn't afford any of the more drastic treatments and the cancer won out in 1994, leaving Doug alone to raise their two young daughters aged 11 and 7.
Just a few short years later, it was Doug's turn to face cancer of the prostate, usually very treatable. If I recall correctly, we got together in May of 1999, and he was undergoing hormone therapy, but was optimistic. He was in a relationship with someone who made him happy, and other than the cancer, all was going well.
I was extremely busy and didn't check in with him for months, figuring he would certainly contact me if anything big was going on. I attended a music conference in February and ran into a teacher from Maumee. Making conversation, I asked her if she had ever had either of the Funsett girls, and she said yes, and then, "That is so tragic, isn't it?" And that is how I discovered that Doug had died, leaving two orphaned teens behind. What a terrible kick in the stomach, and what incredible regret that I was so occupied with my hectic life that I wasn't there for him when he most needed it!
Now, of course, not a week goes by that I don't think of him fondly and sadly.
RIP, Doug.
Dennis Mesnick
I am so saddened to hear about Doug's passing. I had the pleasure him of knowing and playing football together under Coach Heinlin. He had a delightful personality and was so much fun to be around. I do remember his unique and joyful laugh. What a tragic story about his loss and his wife's. I pray for his children and they should have the comfort in knowing how well their dad thought of even in the old days back in high school. I can relate to this sad story since my brother Ron, Shaker grad of 1962 left this world long before his time leaving young children similar to Doug. The memory of those like Doug is what keeps them alive in our hearts and minds.
Kenneth Jurek
Doug was a good friend of mine. We talked when he first found out about his terminal condition and he asked me not to come see him. So, I waited until he died and I went to his funeral in Toledo. But that's not what I want to talk about.
I bought a 16mm camera when I was in 7th grade to make movies with. I met Doug in 8th at Byron. He starred in many of my knockoff "movies." One Saturday, a neighbor of mine, Jim Armstrong (Class of 1967) and I decided to make a cowboy western movie in Jim's backyard on Chargin Blvd. It was winter, snow everywhere. We called up Doug and asked him to show up dressed as an Indian. An hour later, he appeared swathed in a huge red, white, and black plaid Indian blanket (Doug was tall), jeans, moccasins, and the red brush end of window scraper tied to the back of his head as his feathers. We shot all afternoon. With the lights of the surrounding houses in the background, we decided to call our western saga, "The Last Frontier". Doug made the show! He had great acting skills and terrific comedy timing.