Ruben V. Marquez (1928-2007)

No soy Papa, soy Camote (Eulogy)

When my sisters and brother and I were kids, it seemed like you couldn’t go ½ an hour in our house without someone calling out to my Dad “Papa, Papa”. Any time we had a question about something, or we needed help with something we would always call on him. Every once in awhile when we called to him he would respond “ No soy Papa, soy Camote” For those of you Spanish-challenged, Papa can mean “Dad” or potato, and Camote means “Sweet Potato”. At first I didn’t get what he meant by that statement but as I grew older I came to learn what he was saying , that he was “Sweet Dad”, not just Dad. My sisters and brother claim they knew all along what he meant!

Regardless of what we called him though, the main thing that sticks out in my mind about growing up around him is that he was always there for us. He never failed to take time out of whatever he was doing to answer our questions, help us with something that needed fixing, or just give us advice about something we were considering. Anytime we were out somewhere and our car broke down, he was the first person we’d call and the only one who would come out at 2 in the morning to help us get home. He continued to be there for us even into our adult years, and for that he will always be our “Sweet Dad”.

My Dad came to the United States from a small town in Mexico with nothing more than a willingness to work hard and a sense of adventure to try new things. He taught himself skills that he would use throughout his life, having only gone to school through the 5th grade. Two of his passions were cars and motorcycles, which he loved to work on and ride around in. His love of music and electronics led to the start-up of a recording studio, with his own record label BenMar Records, where he produced, recorded, and promoted several Hispanic groups. He even built some of his own studio equipment to save money. His love of music and singing came around full circle when he discovered Karaoke, he loved to sing! Other areas that my Dad dabbled in included photography, in which he won several awards and had some of his work published. One of his life-long loves was flying model airplanes, migrating from U-control to remote control about 25 years ago, even designing and building some of his own planes. He figured out how computers worked and built his own PC with spare parts that were given to him, even going so far as making his own adapter that allowed him to hook up a reel-to-reel tape drive to his PC so that he could transfer his music from tape to CD!

My Dad was a man of many talents and skills, and he had a knack for figuring out how things worked. I’m proud to say that he passed those skills on to me along with a lot of what he learned. He had a love for the simple things in life, taking great pleasure in something as simple as telling a good joke. Many people that we’ve talked to about him have said that what they remember most was his sense of humor, his ability to make people laugh even when telling a corny or a dumb joke. One person in particular even gave his humor a name, saying that it was “Earthy”. I know that they were just trying to be extremely nice, because my Dad could also tell a pretty crude joke from time to time. It was all in his delivery, again very simple and to the point but with a gleam in his eye that told you he was having fun.

As we grew up and had kids of our own, and they grew up and had kids of their own, he was there for them as well. He loved his grandchildren and great-grandchildren very much, and it showed in the way he was with them and how much they loved being around him. Many times he would happen to hear one of them say something about a toy they wanted and the next day he showed up with that item in his hands to give them. That kind of simple attention to them brought him great joy over and over again. He was their “Camote” as well.

My Dad’s sense of humor, which we all thankfully inherited, was the one thing that pulled us through these last few weeks. Throughout his illness, whether it was at the doctor’s office or while he was in the hospital or even his last days at the convalescent hospice, he had us in stitches with his jokes and one-liners. Even various staff members could not escape his wrath, and often they would say that it was refreshing to have a patient with that kind of attitude. Many times, while at the hospital for instance, we wondered if people that saw us there laughing and joking thought that maybe we didn’t care for our Dad. Truth be told, it was my Dad that had started us laughing with some dumb joke or something that he did.

When the diagnosis was made and my Dad was told of his condition, he accepted his fate with grace and dignity, and a little humor thrown in for good luck. He said he felt he had lived a good life, and that he had no regrets whatsoever. His decision not to be hooked up to any kind of machine told us that he was ready to go.

Throughout this whole ordeal, as we’ve talked to people about what was happening to our “Camote”, we’ve been learning, little by little, just how many lives he has touched. It is very heartwarming to know that so many people thought highly of our Dad, and that his friendship meant so much to them.

Few people know this but we almost lost him on Christmas Eve in 1960 due to a horrendous car accident. We were given a second chance with him when he recovered from his injuries, and we were blessed to have had him in our lives for as long as we did.

He will be in our minds and in our hearts every day for the rest of our lives, always bringing a smile to our face whenever we think of him, always making us laugh whenever we remember something he said or did. After all, he was our Camote.