I'll always remember "The Clicker"; Doug's nickname from always clicking (by opening and closing) his Zippo lighter. He was my partner in Roger Harrington's gymn class. As such, we had to carry each other in the 1/2 mile carry each month. Brutal! Always a great conversationalist and a good friend.
Doug's family asked me to deliver the eulogy at his March 22, 2014, funeral, which was held at the historic Grace Hill Church east of Washington. I post it here in memory both of him and some of the good times we had growing up in Washington. - Marty
Eulogy for Doug
This is a somber time, the funeral of Doug Hayes, a friend and loved one of mine and yours. Yet as I remember Doug I can’t help but smile. Our friendship was long and enduring. We grew up just blocks apart in Washington. His family lived on South Third Avenue, mine on East Jefferson Street, both homes near what was then the high school building.
We attended different elementary schools, so I can’t remember exactly when or how we met. But we crossed paths early on, around the age of 10, and from there it was a flurry of good fun. Things like youth baseball, swimming lessons, hanging out at the YMCA and wheeling around and exploring various parts of town on our bicycles. Occasionally, Doug and I and our buddies even scrounged up enough money to buy treats at one of the four little neighborhood grocery stores in town. These were indeed glad times, in an age of small-town innocence when parents didn’t worry about their children being abducted and kids knew they’d better be home for supper.
We grew and progressed and became classmates in 1963 as members of the first ninth-grade class at the brand new junior high school in Washington. From that notable year through high school, Doug developed his innate skills as a thinker and persuader. He enjoyed and delved into history, social and political issues and cultural trends, and loved to discuss any or all of them – or sports or music. He was a conversationalist and kept up on many topics. We’d share thoughts with ourselves and others in various venues, while “scooping the loop” in cars, weeding soybean fields on hot summer days, or visiting bachelor teacher Don Woodruff in his apartment above the chicken hatchery on the east side of town.
During these “coming of age” years there were also teen dances, our first tastes of cigarettes and beer, etcetera. You get the picture. Doug’s high-school nickname “Clicker” stemmed from his habit of playing with the lid on his Zippo lighter. He gave that lighter quite a workout while re-telling how his team had won the Y’s high-school age basketball championship. While not known for athletic prowess, Doug was rightly proud of that basketball title.
After high school, I went off to college in Missouri and Doug went to Iowa Wesleyan. We got together a few times on breaks, but our lives were moving on.
After college, I settled in Washington with my wife, Barb, and our first-born son. Doug worked on attaining his master’s degree and a life in Illinois. Yet he made it a point to stop and see us when he was in Washington, and we chatted between diaper changes. There were later conversations when I sensed the personal emotional challenges that Doug faced and the compassion and care he offered in his role as a state child-welfare investigator.
The years passed and our contact with one another faded to class reunions or perhaps a Christmas card. Then a few years ago he became something of a hero to me. I opened my email one day and found a note from Doug, explaining how he and Maggie had retired and begun a vagabond camping life that many of us at least muse over on occasion. They had embarked on retirement and travel … the good life. They were rolling around and across this great country, visiting scenic treasures and making new friends.
Doug asked in that first email if he could share a photo once in awhile of some place they had camped. He had rekindled our relationship. Over the next several months I looked forward to those emails, for the snapshots and brief commentaries, and they often carried quips about experiences we’d shared as youngsters.
I last saw Doug in 2012 at our 45-year class reunion. As luck would have it, I shared a table with Doug, Maggie and classmates Jim Minick and Kent Dallmeyer. It was a fun reunion, and Doug and I enjoyed a good, long visit outdoors near his camper well after the official gathering had ended. Childhood friendship had weathered more than a half-century and these two old guys were relishing it.
I’ll miss the personal friendship that Doug and I shared, and his good humor, his thoughtfulness, his kindness. He was a good man and a good friend.
At the same time, I believe in what my faith calls the “Communion of Saints,” which encompasses special relationships with our departed loved ones. The communion of saints is the spiritual solidarity which binds together the living on earth and those who have gone before us into God’s heavenly glory. We can use this spiritual union as a link to God’s grace, which can help us in so many ways – especially in consoling us in our grief and helping us to be good, kind people in our daily lives. We pray for the departed; they intercede for us. We share a spirituality that transcends death.
So let us now pray:
O Lord we ask that you grant Douglas Dwight Hayes eternal rest, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
Doug always called me months before the reunion. He wanted to know the date as soon as possible so he could put it on his calendar. He wanted to be sure he didn't have any conflicts..Sometimes we visited for almost an hour. I really missed that phone call this time.
Phillip McConnell
I'll always remember "The Clicker"; Doug's nickname from always clicking (by opening and closing) his Zippo lighter. He was my partner in Roger Harrington's gymn class. As such, we had to carry each other in the 1/2 mile carry each month. Brutal! Always a great conversationalist and a good friend.
Martin Chebuhar
Doug's family asked me to deliver the eulogy at his March 22, 2014, funeral, which was held at the historic Grace Hill Church east of Washington. I post it here in memory both of him and some of the good times we had growing up in Washington. - Marty
Eulogy for Doug
This is a somber time, the funeral of Doug Hayes, a friend and loved one of mine and yours. Yet as I remember Doug I can’t help but smile. Our friendship was long and enduring. We grew up just blocks apart in Washington. His family lived on South Third Avenue, mine on East Jefferson Street, both homes near what was then the high school building.
We attended different elementary schools, so I can’t remember exactly when or how we met. But we crossed paths early on, around the age of 10, and from there it was a flurry of good fun. Things like youth baseball, swimming lessons, hanging out at the YMCA and wheeling around and exploring various parts of town on our bicycles. Occasionally, Doug and I and our buddies even scrounged up enough money to buy treats at one of the four little neighborhood grocery stores in town. These were indeed glad times, in an age of small-town innocence when parents didn’t worry about their children being abducted and kids knew they’d better be home for supper.
We grew and progressed and became classmates in 1963 as members of the first ninth-grade class at the brand new junior high school in Washington. From that notable year through high school, Doug developed his innate skills as a thinker and persuader. He enjoyed and delved into history, social and political issues and cultural trends, and loved to discuss any or all of them – or sports or music. He was a conversationalist and kept up on many topics. We’d share thoughts with ourselves and others in various venues, while “scooping the loop” in cars, weeding soybean fields on hot summer days, or visiting bachelor teacher Don Woodruff in his apartment above the chicken hatchery on the east side of town.
During these “coming of age” years there were also teen dances, our first tastes of cigarettes and beer, etcetera. You get the picture. Doug’s high-school nickname “Clicker” stemmed from his habit of playing with the lid on his Zippo lighter. He gave that lighter quite a workout while re-telling how his team had won the Y’s high-school age basketball championship. While not known for athletic prowess, Doug was rightly proud of that basketball title.
After high school, I went off to college in Missouri and Doug went to Iowa Wesleyan. We got together a few times on breaks, but our lives were moving on.
After college, I settled in Washington with my wife, Barb, and our first-born son. Doug worked on attaining his master’s degree and a life in Illinois. Yet he made it a point to stop and see us when he was in Washington, and we chatted between diaper changes. There were later conversations when I sensed the personal emotional challenges that Doug faced and the compassion and care he offered in his role as a state child-welfare investigator.
The years passed and our contact with one another faded to class reunions or perhaps a Christmas card. Then a few years ago he became something of a hero to me. I opened my email one day and found a note from Doug, explaining how he and Maggie had retired and begun a vagabond camping life that many of us at least muse over on occasion. They had embarked on retirement and travel … the good life. They were rolling around and across this great country, visiting scenic treasures and making new friends.
Doug asked in that first email if he could share a photo once in awhile of some place they had camped. He had rekindled our relationship. Over the next several months I looked forward to those emails, for the snapshots and brief commentaries, and they often carried quips about experiences we’d shared as youngsters.
I last saw Doug in 2012 at our 45-year class reunion. As luck would have it, I shared a table with Doug, Maggie and classmates Jim Minick and Kent Dallmeyer. It was a fun reunion, and Doug and I enjoyed a good, long visit outdoors near his camper well after the official gathering had ended. Childhood friendship had weathered more than a half-century and these two old guys were relishing it.
I’ll miss the personal friendship that Doug and I shared, and his good humor, his thoughtfulness, his kindness. He was a good man and a good friend.
At the same time, I believe in what my faith calls the “Communion of Saints,” which encompasses special relationships with our departed loved ones. The communion of saints is the spiritual solidarity which binds together the living on earth and those who have gone before us into God’s heavenly glory. We can use this spiritual union as a link to God’s grace, which can help us in so many ways – especially in consoling us in our grief and helping us to be good, kind people in our daily lives. We pray for the departed; they intercede for us. We share a spirituality that transcends death.
So let us now pray:
O Lord we ask that you grant Douglas Dwight Hayes eternal rest, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
Susan Minick (Westermark)
Doug always called me months before the reunion. He wanted to know the date as soon as possible so he could put it on his calendar. He wanted to be sure he didn't have any conflicts..Sometimes we visited for almost an hour. I really missed that phone call this time.
Larry Brinning
Click was always great to converse with in hallway meetings. Whatever the news of the day was, we let the hot takes flow.