Obituary
Donald "Whitey" Barber Age: 69 of Westville, passed away Thursday, July 06, 2006 at his home.
He was born October 2, 1936 in Winamac, Indiana to George H. and Bertha (Stiller) Barber. On October 2, 1970 in LaPorte, he married Penny (Nichols) Ross, who survives.
Also surviving are his daughter Kara (John) Edie of Linden, Indiana, his stepchildren Lisa (Robert) Premil of Portage, Jacqueline (Ed) Crook of Dallas, Texas, Gregory (Lori) Ross of Vancouver, Washington, eight grandchildren, and his sister Donna Jane (James) Winn of LaPorte. His parents, two brothers, and one sister preceded him in death.
Whitey was a U.S. Army veteran. Before retiring, he worked maintenance for the Indiana Toll Road for about 10 years and prior to that he worked on the Toll Road for Amoco Oil.
Funeral services will be 10:00 A.M. Saturday, July 8th at the Newhard Funeral Home in Westville. Roberta Korfias and Neal Hagenow will officiate. Burial will be in Westville Cemetery.
Eulogy
Everybody loved my father.
When I was a teenager, I could never figure that out.
The man who goaded me perennially to get perfect grades and to stop singing at the dinner table was the same man who delighted my fellow co-workers at the Indiana Toll Road when he was scheduled to work with them.
The things I could barely see at that time under his gruff exterior were the things that endeared him to everyone he knew--his humor, his intelligence, his common sense and his unbelievably kind heart--and it was a tremendous gift from God that I finally did appreciate my wonderful father as I grew older.
Dad always encouraged me to do my best--never letting me win at penny poker, Jeopardy or a foot race across the backyard until I could actually beat him on my own (I finally did win a race against him, last week!).
Dad protected his family every day of his life. He once escorted a very-pregnant me to my car at night in a parking lot in a sketchy part of town--while Mom fetched their own car down a dark alley.
I remember when I lived in South Carolina and got into a fender bender with my baby daughter while my husband was away. From the scene of the accident I called my Dad--700 miles away. He talked me through the mess I was in and called me again when I got home to make sure we were okay. There was never a day in my life when I didn't feel secure and protected knowing my Dad was in the world.
Dad's strength--physical and spiritual--was staggering. What else could explain his remarkable ability to endure for three years a vicious disease that usually takes its victims in less than 18 months? What else explains how he was able, just hours before his death, to stand tall again and give his wife a kiss?
Dad shared his faith with us, he challenged us, he made us laugh until we cried and he gave us kids the greatest gift we could've asked for by loving our mother so fiercely, so completely.
When Dad started to get sick I would wish for some soul-baring "Tuesdays With Morrie" conversations with him so I could finally know how he really felt about his family, his life--but then a friend reminded me that I didn't need to hear reassuring words to see into my father's soul: he showed us all every day his extraordinary goodness in the way he adoringly held his grandchildren; the way he'd draw visitors into conversation no matter how tired he was; the way he kissed my mother; the way he told me he was proud of me.
Love like that never really goes away.
It's here with us today, reflected in your faces, and I thank you so much for sharing in this tribute to the man who I will *forever* be proud to call my Dad.
--by Kara Edie
Donald "Whitey" Barber Age: 69 of Westville, passed away Thursday, July 06, 2006 at his home.
He was born October 2, 1936 in Winamac, Indiana to George H. and Bertha (Stiller) Barber. On October 2, 1970 in LaPorte, he married Penny (Nichols) Ross, who survives.
Also surviving are his daughter Kara (John) Edie of Linden, Indiana, his stepchildren Lisa (Robert) Premil of Portage, Jacqueline (Ed) Crook of Dallas, Texas, Gregory (Lori) Ross of Vancouver, Washington, eight grandchildren, and his sister Donna Jane (James) Winn of LaPorte. His parents, two brothers, and one sister preceded him in death.
Whitey was a U.S. Army veteran. Before retiring, he worked maintenance for the Indiana Toll Road for about 10 years and prior to that he worked on the Toll Road for Amoco Oil.
Funeral services will be 10:00 A.M. Saturday, July 8th at the Newhard Funeral Home in Westville. Roberta Korfias and Neal Hagenow will officiate. Burial will be in Westville Cemetery.
Eulogy
Everybody loved my father.
When I was a teenager, I could never figure that out.
The man who goaded me perennially to get perfect grades and to stop singing at the dinner table was the same man who delighted my fellow co-workers at the Indiana Toll Road when he was scheduled to work with them.
The things I could barely see at that time under his gruff exterior were the things that endeared him to everyone he knew--his humor, his intelligence, his common sense and his unbelievably kind heart--and it was a tremendous gift from God that I finally did appreciate my wonderful father as I grew older.
Dad always encouraged me to do my best--never letting me win at penny poker, Jeopardy or a foot race across the backyard until I could actually beat him on my own (I finally did win a race against him, last week!).
Dad protected his family every day of his life. He once escorted a very-pregnant me to my car at night in a parking lot in a sketchy part of town--while Mom fetched their own car down a dark alley.
I remember when I lived in South Carolina and got into a fender bender with my baby daughter while my husband was away. From the scene of the accident I called my Dad--700 miles away. He talked me through the mess I was in and called me again when I got home to make sure we were okay. There was never a day in my life when I didn't feel secure and protected knowing my Dad was in the world.
Dad's strength--physical and spiritual--was staggering. What else could explain his remarkable ability to endure for three years a vicious disease that usually takes its victims in less than 18 months? What else explains how he was able, just hours before his death, to stand tall again and give his wife a kiss?
Dad shared his faith with us, he challenged us, he made us laugh until we cried and he gave us kids the greatest gift we could've asked for by loving our mother so fiercely, so completely.
When Dad started to get sick I would wish for some soul-baring "Tuesdays With Morrie" conversations with him so I could finally know how he really felt about his family, his life--but then a friend reminded me that I didn't need to hear reassuring words to see into my father's soul: he showed us all every day his extraordinary goodness in the way he adoringly held his grandchildren; the way he'd draw visitors into conversation no matter how tired he was; the way he kissed my mother; the way he told me he was proud of me.
Love like that never really goes away.
It's here with us today, reflected in your faces, and I thank you so much for sharing in this tribute to the man who I will *forever* be proud to call my Dad.
--by Kara Edie
Obituary
Donald "Whitey" Barber Age: 69 of Westville, passed away Thursday, July 06, 2006 at his home.
He was born October 2, 1936 in Winamac, Indiana to George H. and Bertha (Stiller) Barber. On October 2, 1970 in LaPorte, he married Penny (Nichols) Ross, who survives.
Also surviving are his daughter Kara (John) Edie of Linden, Indiana, his stepchildren Lisa (Robert) Premil of Portage, Jacqueline (Ed) Crook of Dallas, Texas, Gregory (Lori) Ross of Vancouver, Washington, eight grandchildren, and his sister Donna Jane (James) Winn of LaPorte. His parents, two brothers, and one sister preceded him in death.
Whitey was a U.S. Army veteran. Before retiring, he worked maintenance for the Indiana Toll Road for about 10 years and prior to that he worked on the Toll Road for Amoco Oil.
Funeral services will be 10:00 A.M. Saturday, July 8th at the Newhard Funeral Home in Westville. Roberta Korfias and Neal Hagenow will officiate. Burial will be in Westville Cemetery.
Eulogy
Everybody loved my father.
When I was a teenager, I could never figure that out.
The man who goaded me perennially to get perfect grades and to stop singing at the dinner table was the same man who delighted my fellow co-workers at the Indiana Toll Road when he was scheduled to work with them.
The things I could barely see at that time under his gruff exterior were the things that endeared him to everyone he knew--his humor, his intelligence, his common sense and his unbelievably kind heart--and it was a tremendous gift from God that I finally did appreciate my wonderful father as I grew older.
Dad always encouraged me to do my best--never letting me win at penny poker, Jeopardy or a foot race across the backyard until I could actually beat him on my own (I finally did win a race against him, last week!).
Dad protected his family every day of his life. He once escorted a very-pregnant me to my car at night in a parking lot in a sketchy part of town--while Mom fetched their own car down a dark alley.
I remember when I lived in South Carolina and got into a fender bender with my baby daughter while my husband was away. From the scene of the accident I called my Dad--700 miles away. He talked me through the mess I was in and called me again when I got home to make sure we were okay. There was never a day in my life when I didn't feel secure and protected knowing my Dad was in the world.
Dad's strength--physical and spiritual--was staggering. What else could explain his remarkable ability to endure for three years a vicious disease that usually takes its victims in less than 18 months? What else explains how he was able, just hours before his death, to stand tall again and give his wife a kiss?
Dad shared his faith with us, he challenged us, he made us laugh until we cried and he gave us kids the greatest gift we could've asked for by loving our mother so fiercely, so completely.
When Dad started to get sick I would wish for some soul-baring "Tuesdays With Morrie" conversations with him so I could finally know how he really felt about his family, his life--but then a friend reminded me that I didn't need to hear reassuring words to see into my father's soul: he showed us all every day his extraordinary goodness in the way he adoringly held his grandchildren; the way he'd draw visitors into conversation no matter how tired he was; the way he kissed my mother; the way he told me he was proud of me.
Love like that never really goes away.
It's here with us today, reflected in your faces, and I thank you so much for sharing in this tribute to the man who I will *forever* be proud to call my Dad.
--by Kara Edie
Donald "Whitey" Barber Age: 69 of Westville, passed away Thursday, July 06, 2006 at his home.
He was born October 2, 1936 in Winamac, Indiana to George H. and Bertha (Stiller) Barber. On October 2, 1970 in LaPorte, he married Penny (Nichols) Ross, who survives.
Also surviving are his daughter Kara (John) Edie of Linden, Indiana, his stepchildren Lisa (Robert) Premil of Portage, Jacqueline (Ed) Crook of Dallas, Texas, Gregory (Lori) Ross of Vancouver, Washington, eight grandchildren, and his sister Donna Jane (James) Winn of LaPorte. His parents, two brothers, and one sister preceded him in death.
Whitey was a U.S. Army veteran. Before retiring, he worked maintenance for the Indiana Toll Road for about 10 years and prior to that he worked on the Toll Road for Amoco Oil.
Funeral services will be 10:00 A.M. Saturday, July 8th at the Newhard Funeral Home in Westville. Roberta Korfias and Neal Hagenow will officiate. Burial will be in Westville Cemetery.
Eulogy
Everybody loved my father.
When I was a teenager, I could never figure that out.
The man who goaded me perennially to get perfect grades and to stop singing at the dinner table was the same man who delighted my fellow co-workers at the Indiana Toll Road when he was scheduled to work with them.
The things I could barely see at that time under his gruff exterior were the things that endeared him to everyone he knew--his humor, his intelligence, his common sense and his unbelievably kind heart--and it was a tremendous gift from God that I finally did appreciate my wonderful father as I grew older.
Dad always encouraged me to do my best--never letting me win at penny poker, Jeopardy or a foot race across the backyard until I could actually beat him on my own (I finally did win a race against him, last week!).
Dad protected his family every day of his life. He once escorted a very-pregnant me to my car at night in a parking lot in a sketchy part of town--while Mom fetched their own car down a dark alley.
I remember when I lived in South Carolina and got into a fender bender with my baby daughter while my husband was away. From the scene of the accident I called my Dad--700 miles away. He talked me through the mess I was in and called me again when I got home to make sure we were okay. There was never a day in my life when I didn't feel secure and protected knowing my Dad was in the world.
Dad's strength--physical and spiritual--was staggering. What else could explain his remarkable ability to endure for three years a vicious disease that usually takes its victims in less than 18 months? What else explains how he was able, just hours before his death, to stand tall again and give his wife a kiss?
Dad shared his faith with us, he challenged us, he made us laugh until we cried and he gave us kids the greatest gift we could've asked for by loving our mother so fiercely, so completely.
When Dad started to get sick I would wish for some soul-baring "Tuesdays With Morrie" conversations with him so I could finally know how he really felt about his family, his life--but then a friend reminded me that I didn't need to hear reassuring words to see into my father's soul: he showed us all every day his extraordinary goodness in the way he adoringly held his grandchildren; the way he'd draw visitors into conversation no matter how tired he was; the way he kissed my mother; the way he told me he was proud of me.
Love like that never really goes away.
It's here with us today, reflected in your faces, and I thank you so much for sharing in this tribute to the man who I will *forever* be proud to call my Dad.
--by Kara Edie
