Peter Reinsimar

We are here to celebrate the life of Peter Reinsimar. Or, as I knew him for my entire life, our Pa. Our retrospective begins on August 14th, 1940 in Salt Lake City, Utah. Pa remembered his early years with a rosy tint, with a beautiful home and going to watch his neighbor play in a symphony. But the easy innocence of childhood wouldn’t last long. When he was five, his father left the family, leaving emotional and financial strain in his wake. Even as a boy, he took on the tasks of a man, often shoveling snow and delivering newspapers to help his mother with the bills. As time went on, his siblings all found their way to California, eventually enticing him to come for a visit.

Understandably, he became enamored with California. And California was not done with him. When his mother remarried, her husband was transferred to the Golden State. They moved to Norwalk in 1956 where he established himself at Excelsior High School, so much so that he earned a perfect attendance award. We still have the proof.

That attendance helped with more than an award. He had a peek at his fate when he met a friend of a friend at school, one Patricia Burke. But before destiny, he answered a different call. Pa graduated in 1958 and enlisted in the United States Air Force. After six years of dedicated service, he was honorably discharged in 1964, at which point he returned to Norwalk. Civilian life found him in Club 11, a happening club with live music and a vibrant dance floor. It was there he reunited with the future Mrs. Reinsimar. They started their forever together with a wedding on March 13th, 1965.

Marital bliss meant making room for their legacy. You may know them as Jerry, Christine, and Laura. And although his children were his most precious commitment, he achieved excellence in his career as well. Much of his work life was spent building airplanes. If he were still at it, I’m sure Boeing wouldn’t be putting out such shoddy products. Notably, he was instrumental in building the first DC-10, an achievement he shared with his family as they watched it take off for the first time together. He outpaced many of his colleagues that had age and experience on their side, promoting through McDonald Douglas. When he was ready for a new challenge, he was one of only 6 people, including the president, that were hired for a new start up. Many entrepreneurs dream of nurturing a nascent business until they are bought out. Pa’s team created a company that was highly sought after and eventually acquired by a large Colorado manufacturer of dental and medical instruments. His career had its ups and downs but he persevered through it all.

Every great career must come to an end. He retired at 62, celebrated by colleagues and family alike. We toasted him over a rack of ribs at Claim Jumper. Adjusting to the new chapter of his life was a challenge at first; he spent his entire life working. As with all challenges, he rose to meet that one as well, growing to enjoy every bit of the 22 years he spent in a well-earned retirement. He developed his hobbies, watched every true crime show Investigation Discovery produced, and went back “to work” at Pauma, Valley View, and the like. He loved the Mermaid and Storm machines, on which he would bet precisely 16 cents a spin. And although he stopped growing his career, he continued to nurture his family.

He watched with joy and pride next to his beloved wife as each of his children got married, established their own careers, and gave him grandchildren and even two great-grandchildren.

He loved his family with presence, consistency, and service. He cherished his life, and us, so much that when he received his cancer diagnosis, he fought. Doing everything he could to spend another eight years with us. I will always be grateful to the doctors, and to him, for that time.

Growing up, I often heard family members say that they don’t make men like him anymore. It’s true. In a world that seems full of greater and greater extremes, he was a perfect, paradoxical balance. A mix of things that on the surface don’t seem to go together but in practice, made perfect sense. He was a patriot and loved other cultures. He sacrificed, serving and protecting the nation he loved so dearly. He also valued the perspectives of others, sharing the incredible things he learned from the people he met in the service from all over the world. He was strong and tender. He was masculine and gentle. He was a private person but could make friends anywhere. He could be very serious but had one hell of a sense of humor. He was a man’s man that loved and raised strong women. He was the kind of man that would show his care for you by fixing your car but was also not afraid to tell you he loved you.

The truth is that growing up, his family was not always there for him. As a marriage and family therapist, I see how easy it is for people to repeat the same patterns they despised when they were young. Pa didn’t do that. He built a family marked by warmth, generosity, and love. One that surrounded him in his final days and is gathered now to honor him. That is just one of his many gifts to us. We will all have our own ways of remembering him. Small pieces we carry with us. I will see him in old episodes of Jeopardy with Alex Trebec. 1997 Honda CR-Vs. Good and Plentys. Saw movies. But, more dear than that, I will see him in my mother’s endless capability. Jerry’s tireless dedication. Lolly’s integrity (and stubbornness). There are parts of myself he shaped that mean I will never truly be without him.

I hope we can all find comfort in the ways we carry him us. Now, I’d like to open the floor to anyone who wants to say something in his memory.