Dr. Roger Allen Jacobs, age, 76, passed away on Thursday, September 1, 2016 in Woodland Park, Colorado. He was born on October 23, 1939, the son of Helen Agnes (Tomaszewski) and Willmar Frederick Jacobs in Waco, Nebraska.
Roger was one of four children, all boys, only two of whom would live past their 45th birthday. His older brother, Gary, was shot down in a military plane over Turkey while on a mission during the cold war, and his younger brother, Dean, passed away due to an embolism at his desk in his office as a cattle broker. Now only his brother, Kent, remains, a retired lawyer living in northern California with his wife, Marilyn.
Carol, his wife of 50 years and whom he always referred to as "my bride," was there with him throughout the last half century. Carol and Roger made a life together and were utterly devoted to each other. They raised three loving boys, sent them off to college and graduate school, went to church together, watched mysteries on television together, and were fully and completely present together as a loving couple as they made their way through life in the way only two people who are deeply devoted to and in love with each other can.
Roger had a happy energy that radiated out into the world and onto everyone who came into his presence. He never had anything but kind words for anyone (unless you were certain politicians), and he woke up every day (very, very early) with a real intention to seize the day as best he knew how. And he always did.
Roger loved early morning walks, working in the yard, gardening, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, going to lunch and dinner with Carol, and woodcarving, which was a passion that emerged in the last fifteen or so years of his life.
Roger started a woodcarving "school" of sorts, in which he invited people from the community to come to his garage where he would help them get started and oversee their progress on a woodcarving project of their choice. He carved innumerable animals and Santa Clauses, which were his favorites, although his repertoire also included religious icons and busts of American Indians.
A group of men would come to the garage classes on Tuesdays and women on Mondays, and they grew increasingly tight-knit over the years. He considered these friends among the best he'd ever had—he spoke of them with such pride, about their accomplishments and characters, as though he had known them his whole life. These friendships were very important to him in the last decade of his life and they added a dimension of love, fellowship, and community that meant the world to him.
He lived most of his life in Seward, Nebraska, where he was a family physician and among other things, delivered many, many babies. He loved his work - his work was one of passion and love. He loved seeing patients, talking to people, and helping them out when they needed it most throughout the course of their lives (and deaths). And he was really good at it. He was a truly loving father.
He interrupted his surgical residency to serve in the U.S. Army Medical Corps from 1969 to 1971. Although he didn't talk about it much, he was also helicopter rescue medic during his tour in Vietnam, going out into the field to help bring back wounded soldiers—one of the more dangerous jobs with an unusually high mortality rate, and he was given honors for the extraordinary number of missions he flew into the battlefields. He would sometimes say in reflective moments that he never really thought he was going to make it out of there alive, so every day he lived when he returned was a true gift and he absolutely lived them that way.
Roger moved from Seward to North Platte, Nebraska and ultimately out to Woodland Park, Colorado, in the shadow of Pikes Peak, where he would spend the last years of life fully in love with it all—with his wife, with the mountains, and with the routines he established—waking up at the ridiculously early hour of 4:30 or so for a solitary and prayerful walk around the wilds of his neighborhood, going to church and then out to buy some breakfast for Carol or for the rest of the family. His life was one of joy, happiness, commitment, and love. Above all, he radiated love out into the world, and everyone who knew him reflected that love back. He made the world a little brighter, a little more hopeful and just basically better by being in it.
Despite all his years and all the tragedy and comedy that he had witnessed and seen over the course of his life, there was always within him the innocent vitality of the little boy growing up on a farm in Staplehurst, Nebraska, a little boy full of hope and glee at being alive in such an amazing world. This was always most apparent in the way in invariably signed off when finishing a phone conversation. In a very boyish voice inflected with so much hope and love for that he retained throughout his life, and one full of happiness, he would say, "well alllllrriight then. We'll talk to you soon. Love ya!"
He is survived by: his wife, Carol; sons, William, Michael, and Tom; brother, Kent; and grandchildren, Stella Jacobs and Jaxen Werne.
Mass of Christian Burial on Tuesday, September 6, 2016, at Our Lady of the Woods Catholic Church in Woodland Park, Colorado. Graveside service at Seward Cemetery in Seward, Nebraska.
Obituary information from Volzke Funeral Home of Seward, Nebraska.
Roger was one of four children, all boys, only two of whom would live past their 45th birthday. His older brother, Gary, was shot down in a military plane over Turkey while on a mission during the cold war, and his younger brother, Dean, passed away due to an embolism at his desk in his office as a cattle broker. Now only his brother, Kent, remains, a retired lawyer living in northern California with his wife, Marilyn.
Carol, his wife of 50 years and whom he always referred to as "my bride," was there with him throughout the last half century. Carol and Roger made a life together and were utterly devoted to each other. They raised three loving boys, sent them off to college and graduate school, went to church together, watched mysteries on television together, and were fully and completely present together as a loving couple as they made their way through life in the way only two people who are deeply devoted to and in love with each other can.
Roger had a happy energy that radiated out into the world and onto everyone who came into his presence. He never had anything but kind words for anyone (unless you were certain politicians), and he woke up every day (very, very early) with a real intention to seize the day as best he knew how. And he always did.
Roger loved early morning walks, working in the yard, gardening, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, going to lunch and dinner with Carol, and woodcarving, which was a passion that emerged in the last fifteen or so years of his life.
Roger started a woodcarving "school" of sorts, in which he invited people from the community to come to his garage where he would help them get started and oversee their progress on a woodcarving project of their choice. He carved innumerable animals and Santa Clauses, which were his favorites, although his repertoire also included religious icons and busts of American Indians.
A group of men would come to the garage classes on Tuesdays and women on Mondays, and they grew increasingly tight-knit over the years. He considered these friends among the best he'd ever had—he spoke of them with such pride, about their accomplishments and characters, as though he had known them his whole life. These friendships were very important to him in the last decade of his life and they added a dimension of love, fellowship, and community that meant the world to him.
He lived most of his life in Seward, Nebraska, where he was a family physician and among other things, delivered many, many babies. He loved his work - his work was one of passion and love. He loved seeing patients, talking to people, and helping them out when they needed it most throughout the course of their lives (and deaths). And he was really good at it. He was a truly loving father.
He interrupted his surgical residency to serve in the U.S. Army Medical Corps from 1969 to 1971. Although he didn't talk about it much, he was also helicopter rescue medic during his tour in Vietnam, going out into the field to help bring back wounded soldiers—one of the more dangerous jobs with an unusually high mortality rate, and he was given honors for the extraordinary number of missions he flew into the battlefields. He would sometimes say in reflective moments that he never really thought he was going to make it out of there alive, so every day he lived when he returned was a true gift and he absolutely lived them that way.
Roger moved from Seward to North Platte, Nebraska and ultimately out to Woodland Park, Colorado, in the shadow of Pikes Peak, where he would spend the last years of life fully in love with it all—with his wife, with the mountains, and with the routines he established—waking up at the ridiculously early hour of 4:30 or so for a solitary and prayerful walk around the wilds of his neighborhood, going to church and then out to buy some breakfast for Carol or for the rest of the family. His life was one of joy, happiness, commitment, and love. Above all, he radiated love out into the world, and everyone who knew him reflected that love back. He made the world a little brighter, a little more hopeful and just basically better by being in it.
Despite all his years and all the tragedy and comedy that he had witnessed and seen over the course of his life, there was always within him the innocent vitality of the little boy growing up on a farm in Staplehurst, Nebraska, a little boy full of hope and glee at being alive in such an amazing world. This was always most apparent in the way in invariably signed off when finishing a phone conversation. In a very boyish voice inflected with so much hope and love for that he retained throughout his life, and one full of happiness, he would say, "well alllllrriight then. We'll talk to you soon. Love ya!"
He is survived by: his wife, Carol; sons, William, Michael, and Tom; brother, Kent; and grandchildren, Stella Jacobs and Jaxen Werne.
Mass of Christian Burial on Tuesday, September 6, 2016, at Our Lady of the Woods Catholic Church in Woodland Park, Colorado. Graveside service at Seward Cemetery in Seward, Nebraska.
Obituary information from Volzke Funeral Home of Seward, Nebraska.
Dr. Roger Allen Jacobs, age, 76, passed away on Thursday, September 1, 2016 in Woodland Park, Colorado. He was born on October 23, 1939, the son of Helen Agnes (Tomaszewski) and Willmar Frederick Jacobs in Waco, Nebraska.
Roger was one of four children, all boys, only two of whom would live past their 45th birthday. His older brother, Gary, was shot down in a military plane over Turkey while on a mission during the cold war, and his younger brother, Dean, passed away due to an embolism at his desk in his office as a cattle broker. Now only his brother, Kent, remains, a retired lawyer living in northern California with his wife, Marilyn.
Carol, his wife of 50 years and whom he always referred to as "my bride," was there with him throughout the last half century. Carol and Roger made a life together and were utterly devoted to each other. They raised three loving boys, sent them off to college and graduate school, went to church together, watched mysteries on television together, and were fully and completely present together as a loving couple as they made their way through life in the way only two people who are deeply devoted to and in love with each other can.
Roger had a happy energy that radiated out into the world and onto everyone who came into his presence. He never had anything but kind words for anyone (unless you were certain politicians), and he woke up every day (very, very early) with a real intention to seize the day as best he knew how. And he always did.
Roger loved early morning walks, working in the yard, gardening, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, going to lunch and dinner with Carol, and woodcarving, which was a passion that emerged in the last fifteen or so years of his life.
Roger started a woodcarving "school" of sorts, in which he invited people from the community to come to his garage where he would help them get started and oversee their progress on a woodcarving project of their choice. He carved innumerable animals and Santa Clauses, which were his favorites, although his repertoire also included religious icons and busts of American Indians.
A group of men would come to the garage classes on Tuesdays and women on Mondays, and they grew increasingly tight-knit over the years. He considered these friends among the best he'd ever had—he spoke of them with such pride, about their accomplishments and characters, as though he had known them his whole life. These friendships were very important to him in the last decade of his life and they added a dimension of love, fellowship, and community that meant the world to him.
He lived most of his life in Seward, Nebraska, where he was a family physician and among other things, delivered many, many babies. He loved his work - his work was one of passion and love. He loved seeing patients, talking to people, and helping them out when they needed it most throughout the course of their lives (and deaths). And he was really good at it. He was a truly loving father.
He interrupted his surgical residency to serve in the U.S. Army Medical Corps from 1969 to 1971. Although he didn't talk about it much, he was also helicopter rescue medic during his tour in Vietnam, going out into the field to help bring back wounded soldiers—one of the more dangerous jobs with an unusually high mortality rate, and he was given honors for the extraordinary number of missions he flew into the battlefields. He would sometimes say in reflective moments that he never really thought he was going to make it out of there alive, so every day he lived when he returned was a true gift and he absolutely lived them that way.
Roger moved from Seward to North Platte, Nebraska and ultimately out to Woodland Park, Colorado, in the shadow of Pikes Peak, where he would spend the last years of life fully in love with it all—with his wife, with the mountains, and with the routines he established—waking up at the ridiculously early hour of 4:30 or so for a solitary and prayerful walk around the wilds of his neighborhood, going to church and then out to buy some breakfast for Carol or for the rest of the family. His life was one of joy, happiness, commitment, and love. Above all, he radiated love out into the world, and everyone who knew him reflected that love back. He made the world a little brighter, a little more hopeful and just basically better by being in it.
Despite all his years and all the tragedy and comedy that he had witnessed and seen over the course of his life, there was always within him the innocent vitality of the little boy growing up on a farm in Staplehurst, Nebraska, a little boy full of hope and glee at being alive in such an amazing world. This was always most apparent in the way in invariably signed off when finishing a phone conversation. In a very boyish voice inflected with so much hope and love for that he retained throughout his life, and one full of happiness, he would say, "well alllllrriight then. We'll talk to you soon. Love ya!"
He is survived by: his wife, Carol; sons, William, Michael, and Tom; brother, Kent; and grandchildren, Stella Jacobs and Jaxen Werne.
Mass of Christian Burial on Tuesday, September 6, 2016, at Our Lady of the Woods Catholic Church in Woodland Park, Colorado. Graveside service at Seward Cemetery in Seward, Nebraska.
Obituary information from Volzke Funeral Home of Seward, Nebraska.
Roger was one of four children, all boys, only two of whom would live past their 45th birthday. His older brother, Gary, was shot down in a military plane over Turkey while on a mission during the cold war, and his younger brother, Dean, passed away due to an embolism at his desk in his office as a cattle broker. Now only his brother, Kent, remains, a retired lawyer living in northern California with his wife, Marilyn.
Carol, his wife of 50 years and whom he always referred to as "my bride," was there with him throughout the last half century. Carol and Roger made a life together and were utterly devoted to each other. They raised three loving boys, sent them off to college and graduate school, went to church together, watched mysteries on television together, and were fully and completely present together as a loving couple as they made their way through life in the way only two people who are deeply devoted to and in love with each other can.
Roger had a happy energy that radiated out into the world and onto everyone who came into his presence. He never had anything but kind words for anyone (unless you were certain politicians), and he woke up every day (very, very early) with a real intention to seize the day as best he knew how. And he always did.
Roger loved early morning walks, working in the yard, gardening, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, going to lunch and dinner with Carol, and woodcarving, which was a passion that emerged in the last fifteen or so years of his life.
Roger started a woodcarving "school" of sorts, in which he invited people from the community to come to his garage where he would help them get started and oversee their progress on a woodcarving project of their choice. He carved innumerable animals and Santa Clauses, which were his favorites, although his repertoire also included religious icons and busts of American Indians.
A group of men would come to the garage classes on Tuesdays and women on Mondays, and they grew increasingly tight-knit over the years. He considered these friends among the best he'd ever had—he spoke of them with such pride, about their accomplishments and characters, as though he had known them his whole life. These friendships were very important to him in the last decade of his life and they added a dimension of love, fellowship, and community that meant the world to him.
He lived most of his life in Seward, Nebraska, where he was a family physician and among other things, delivered many, many babies. He loved his work - his work was one of passion and love. He loved seeing patients, talking to people, and helping them out when they needed it most throughout the course of their lives (and deaths). And he was really good at it. He was a truly loving father.
He interrupted his surgical residency to serve in the U.S. Army Medical Corps from 1969 to 1971. Although he didn't talk about it much, he was also helicopter rescue medic during his tour in Vietnam, going out into the field to help bring back wounded soldiers—one of the more dangerous jobs with an unusually high mortality rate, and he was given honors for the extraordinary number of missions he flew into the battlefields. He would sometimes say in reflective moments that he never really thought he was going to make it out of there alive, so every day he lived when he returned was a true gift and he absolutely lived them that way.
Roger moved from Seward to North Platte, Nebraska and ultimately out to Woodland Park, Colorado, in the shadow of Pikes Peak, where he would spend the last years of life fully in love with it all—with his wife, with the mountains, and with the routines he established—waking up at the ridiculously early hour of 4:30 or so for a solitary and prayerful walk around the wilds of his neighborhood, going to church and then out to buy some breakfast for Carol or for the rest of the family. His life was one of joy, happiness, commitment, and love. Above all, he radiated love out into the world, and everyone who knew him reflected that love back. He made the world a little brighter, a little more hopeful and just basically better by being in it.
Despite all his years and all the tragedy and comedy that he had witnessed and seen over the course of his life, there was always within him the innocent vitality of the little boy growing up on a farm in Staplehurst, Nebraska, a little boy full of hope and glee at being alive in such an amazing world. This was always most apparent in the way in invariably signed off when finishing a phone conversation. In a very boyish voice inflected with so much hope and love for that he retained throughout his life, and one full of happiness, he would say, "well alllllrriight then. We'll talk to you soon. Love ya!"
He is survived by: his wife, Carol; sons, William, Michael, and Tom; brother, Kent; and grandchildren, Stella Jacobs and Jaxen Werne.
Mass of Christian Burial on Tuesday, September 6, 2016, at Our Lady of the Woods Catholic Church in Woodland Park, Colorado. Graveside service at Seward Cemetery in Seward, Nebraska.
Obituary information from Volzke Funeral Home of Seward, Nebraska.
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