Paul F. Gorman

GORMAN - Paul F., Sr. July 9, 2019. Beloved husband of the late Suzanne (Mulligan); dear father of Barbara ( Chris) VanDusen, Timothy (Kathleen), Patricia (Kevin) Brown, Kevin (Eileen) and Paul (Amy) Gorman; also survived by 11 granchildren; brother of the late Jean Gerbereux, Robert, William, Rita Licker and Donald Gorman. Friends may call Friday 4-8 PM at the DENGLER, ROBERTS, PERNA FUNERAL HOME, 8630 Transit Rd., East Amherst, (one mile north of Maple Rd.). Friends are invited to attend a Mass of Christian Burial from St. Mary’s RC Church, 6919 Transit Rd., East Amherst, Saturday at 10:30 AM. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to the Beechwood/Blocher Foundation, 2235 Millersport Hwy.,

Getzville, NY 14068, or Hospice Buffalo, Inc., 225 Como Park Blvd., Cheektowaga, NY 14227. Online condolences shared at www.denglerrobertspernafuneral.com

EULOGY FOR PAUL FRANCIS GORMAN, SR.

July 13, 2019

St. Mary’s Church

Swormville, New York

Invitation-Salvatores immediately after Mass.

Dad would certainly be a little red-faced right now with all the fuss, attention and love being poured out for him this morning, that is why it is my high honor to, on his behalf, sincerely thank all of you who came to St Mary’s today to join us here at the Lord’s table to give thanks to God for this good man, who was such a gift to all of us.

I would especially like to acknowledge dad’s honorary escorts today, dad’s colleague, business partner and devoted friend Frank Guido, who was a huge part of dad’s life for nearly half a century, and Everett Francis, who was more than a business client to dad, he was a dedicated and caring friend who made time for him right through his dying days.

Thank you too to Father Bob who prepared dad for paradise, as he did for mom, but also assuaged our fears with his gentle demeanor and reassuring words, reminding all of us that we have been preparing for these moments our entire lives.

I also want to acknowledge the dedicated and caring staff of Hope House at Beechwood Homes as well as the staff at Hospice Buffalo. These people are doing God’s work here on earth. We thank God for professionals like these, who follow their calling to care for the most vulnerable among us.

Thanks too to John Dengler and his superb staff at Dengler, Roberts, Perna Funeral Home for your empathy and professionalism and your tender care of both mom and dad after their passing. Your service has been a gift to our family.

Paul Francis Gorman was born on January 5th, 1930 in Lackawanna at Our Lady of Victory Hospital. He was last of seven children born to William Joseph and Margaret Cecilia Gorman.

With five living older siblings in a well-established family living right by Cazenovia Park, dad came into the world in an idyllic fashion. Sadly, when dad was barely four years old, his father suddenly passed away leaving Paul fatherless before he could come to know him. Dad’s only memory of his father, he once told me, was of him laid out in the parlor.

With their world around them changed forever, dad’s mother, two sisters and three brothers took up their father’s mantle to fill the void, and what a job they did.

Dad attended St John the Evangelist School where he served as an altar boy and went on to the old St Joseph’s Collegiate Institute as a freshman before transferring the following year to South Park High School where he excelled as a student and was a star member of the school’s debating team. There he acquired skills that he effectively applied throughout his adulthood, particularly in conversations with his sons-in- law.

Dad could debate anything and disagree- without being disagreeable. We fondly recall the many visits by our late cousin Tommy Gorman, who would come over specifically to mix it up with dad, which was ironic because Tommy and dad saw eye to eye on everything, but Tommy could still get him going. An example of a typical visit was the many times they would argue about which of them couldn’t stand Ronald Reagan more.

Come to think of it, what do you think the two of them have been discussing since dad arrived on Tuesday?

Dad loved the back and forth- and was good at it, with a healthy mix of spot-on points and plenty of sarcasm and laughter. There simply was no wittier or more informed debater than dad. Ask Kevin and Chris about that later.

But back to dad’s story…

Paul adored all of his siblings, but he had a truly special bond with his brother Don, who was the closest brother in age to him, who ran with the same crowd, who went to Canisius College and who flew P47s in WWII.

Don was dad’s closest peer in the family and the two naturally gravitated to each other, sometimes to dad’s detriment.

For example, there was a time where Don, despite orders, took a then-17 year old Paul into a Seneca Street saloon Don often frequented. The mistake made here was that Don situated young Paul at the end of the bar----on a stool right in full view of the front window.

Now, can you imagine the look on Paul’s face as he lifted his glass to his lips, and, turning to look out the window to take his first big sip---only to see his mother on the sidewalk staring sternly through the glass right at him?

We never got the full post script on that story except that his mother stomped off, but thank God dad and Don survived what awaited them when they got home. Rumor has it she did not speak to dad at all, until he sheepishly presented her with a rose, upon which she replied with a blunt “thank you.”

Anyway, upon graduating from South Park in 1947, it was off to Canisius College where Paul excelled as a pre-med student, earning his bachelor’s degree in Biology.

Canisius, and more specifically the Jesuits, had a profound influence on Paul --as a deeply thoughtful Catholic who embraced his religion with reason and faith and where his world views in terms of Catholicism, politics, justice, and good citizenship were cemented.

As an avid and loyal reader of America Magazine, the Jesuit Review of Faith and Culture, he never lost his Jesuit-influenced sensibilities. Inspired by dad I now subscribe to this thought-provoking publication, often times bringing dad my copies to the nursing home to read him an article or two that he would enjoy. He no longer could read nor write near the end, but he never lost his greatest gift—the ability to listen.

Dad’s nature was to not draw attention to himself—there was no ego with this man—but he made a huge exception when it came to Canisius College, right to the dying end. He often spoke about hanging the stations of the cross in the then-new Christ the King chapel as part of his work-study as a student, and he constantly wore his thirty year old Canisius College sweatshirt—even in the nursing home.

One other story about Canisius that also paints a vivid picture of the man’s wit and devotion. Just this last week during his brief time of miraculous lucidity, when Megan reminded him that she had just graduated from nursing school at Niagara University, he responded to her in a clear voice, saying “it’s too bad you didn’t get an education”.

Once a Golden Griffin, always a Golden Griffin.

So 1951 saw dad graduate with plans to go on to medical school, however the United States was once again at war, and like his brothers Don and Bill, who both served in the US Army Air Forces in WWII, Pop chose to enlist in the US Air Force.

He went to basic training at Sampson AFB on Seneca Lake and then on to Lackland AFB in San Antonio where he graduated as a 2nd Lieutenant. After stints stateside, Paul’s unit, the Black Knights of the 57th Fighter Interceptor Squadron, was assigned to fight the cold war, literally…in ICELAND. There they were responsible for chasing away intruding Soviet spy planes over the North Atlantic as part of NATO operations.

In 1955 dad was honorably discharged and he returned to Buffalo to plan his future. I had not known this before, but on one of those all-too-rare occasions while I had him all to myself---on a trip in October 2001 to Notre Dame for a game, dad told me that when he returned from the service he was accepted into law school at Notre Dame and medical school at University College, Galway—now National University of Ireland, Galway.

When I asked him why he did not accept either offer, his response was “I met a girl”.

Paul’s first date with Suzanne Mulligan was to– you guessed it – a Canisius basketball game followed by a visit to one of dad’s favorite saloons on Seneca Street. It was there that before the night was done, mom had the whole place singing the Mickey Mouse Club theme song, and it was that night he said he knew he was going to ask her to marry him.

On October 26, 1957 Paul and Suzanne married. After a brief time in an apartment in South Buffalo, Paul and Sue purchased their first home---a duplex—on Kinsey Avenue in Kenmore where Barbara soon thereafter came into the world, followed a year later by son Tim.

Out of room, the Gormans then moved to their beloved home on Lamont Drive in Eggertsville in 1963 and filled it with three more children, “the twins”, Patty and yours truly and “surprise!”—Paul Francis Gorman Jr, aka Baby Paul, in 1969.

Firmly anchored in Eggertsville, dad was an active member of St Benedict’s parish- as an usher, or at the annual pre-Lenten clam bake sponsored by the Holy Name Society or as the occasional chair of the annual Catholic Charities Appeal, which involved door to door collecting of pledges, which I am sure was as comfortable for him as a root canal, but it he took on the duty and he did it.

Professionally, dad got his career started with US Steel, where he met his most cherished friend, the late great Ralph Klein and to whom he and mom would introduce her lifelong friend, Joan McFarland. Together this foursome shaped a loving and lasting bond that extends to this day through their children.

Uncle Paul then moved on from US Steel to a management position at Chaffee Materials, renamed Thompson Materials, which specialized in concrete reinforcing materials such as wire mesh and rebar.

When the company that owned Thompson had decided to close the business, Paul and Frank Guido, who by then was managing the Syracuse branch, put a business plan and investments together and were able to keep the business going as Conbar Materials, with Mr. Gorman serving as president and Mr. Guido as vice president.

Now, there was a reason Thompson’s owners decided to shutter the business. There simply was no worse time in Buffalo to be in the concrete construction materials business.

Most years were a struggle. But, undeterred- and probably always quietly nervous - Paul carried on. He and his little company were respected by local contractors, and Conbar was able to remain a small but going concern, providing a decent life for its people and their families.

Fortunately, as dad approached his retirement years, the business was acquired by Scranton’s Thruway Builders, and dad’s great relationships and talent for specifying construction jobs was so admired they asked him to stay on and work projects for them whenever he felt like it- and what a gift that gesture of respect and fondness for him truly was. He was able to stay connected to customers and colleagues---to maintain that sense of purpose as a gifted professional—while living comfortably with the resources the role could provide him, particularly his health coverage.

With that brief history of this beloved man, I’d like to take a moment to reflect a little deeper on the qualities of this good and faithful soul.

As is the case with mom’s passing in March, the river of words used to describe Dad upon his passing began to flow with the torrent of the rapids of the Niagara:

A true gentleman.

Respectful.

Quick-witted.

Welcoming.

Warm.

Loving.

Hero.

Patriarch.

Affable.

Kind.

Intelligent.

Brilliant.

Informed.

Humble.

A gift.

Dad really did not seek or enjoy being the center of attention.

He left all of that to mom.

And expressing his own sentimentality was incredibly awkward for him. Dad was notoriously shy about telling people he loved them, not that they didn’t already know, and it became a bit of a sport for mom to try to get him to say it.

She would say “Paul, look at me. I love you” and he would reply “You should.”

Sometimes she’d just say “Tell me you love me!” to which he would reply, “You love me!”

But of course by his thoughtful demeanor there was no denying that this was a truly loving man.

And there is one glaring exception to his sense of reservation when it came to outward displays of sentimentality, and that was his special relationship with Mary Kate, his first grandchild and the one who gave our family the names “Mim” and “Pop”. Their bond was special, strong and happy even into his final moments.

Here, briefly are a couple of other attributes about Uncle Paul that you may never have known.

For one, did you know he was incredibly handy? There was nothing at the house that dad could not get fixed. He was a natural. Whenever anything required fixing, replacing or figuring out, he would simply call 835 3454 and Mr Carroll would come down the street in a jiffy with his tool kit, and boom, the problem was solved.

This kind of talent is a trait dad has passed on to his sons.

He could be really vocal at times too.

This one might surprise you, given his gentle and personable demeanor, but the man we all loved was a different person altogether while watching Bills games.

He predicted doom and gloom with the force of a fog horn at the first missed tackle, dropped pass or lost coin toss. In fact, it would start when the schedule would come out.

Watching games with him was torture, and it was at those times that we wanted to lovingly strangle him.

And speaking of sports teams, there is the Red Sox, a team that featured dad’s baseball idol: Number 9. The Splendid Splinter. The Kid. Ted Williams. (Dad often referred to his children and grandchildren as “kid” by the way).

Dad and his brothers and friends on more than one occasion had traveled to Cleveland and Detroit to see Ted play, but until about 20 years ago, Pop had never been to Fenway. One of the fondest memories we have is of that weekend we took dad to Fenway Park for a weekend series against the White Sox. He was like a little boy at Christmas—too bad he brought no mitt to wear to the games.

And care for a lively debate? Mention that other American League team that plays in the Bronx. Or worse, wear their hat. Then be prepared for a lively discussion.

Pop loved music, nearly all kinds, but especially classical, jazz, the Beatles, singer-songwriters and classics from the great American songbook. Music and the day’s newspaper, especially on his beloved back deck custom-built by Chris, were heavenly to dad.

And he was a ravenous reader, oftentimes with multiple books of varying subjects going all at the same time. He lived for his books and he signed his name in each that he owned. In his twilight years he regrettably lost his ability to read, but he still loved being read to.

What made him truly special was the greatest gift he possessed-he listened. To whomever he was listening—he made that person the absolute center of his attention.

The great American poet Maya Angelou said it best

“I’ve learned people will forget what you said, People will forget what you did, But people will never forget how you made them feel.”

And how dad made people feel is why we are all here today.

He was Mr. Gorman. He was Uncle Paul. To his grandchildren and sons and daughters in law he was Pop.

He was Paul.

But, best of all- at least to me and my brothers and sisters- he was DAD.

Dad. I love hearing that word. And I and my siblings will sure miss saying it to him. But we’ll remember the thrill of him coming through the door at the end of the work day. “Dad’s home!”

We’ll remember his morning routine that we could only hear in the early darkness of the day---the splashing of the razor in the sink. The squeak as he turned the light bulb above his head in the closet. The sound of the hangar being removed and replaced. The soft sound of the necktie being tied. Coffee and toast being prepared. The quiet exit out the door as he went off for daily mass at St Benedict’s.

“There goes DAD.”

In our memories, we think nostalgically of dad-in our youth; in those special, simple, routine ways.

In closing, today we commend to God the gentle, loving, affable, attentive, witty and brilliant soul of the last of a family formed 111 years ago.

In our words, prayers and songs we have looked skyward to find metaphors for dad. From the “deep peace of a flock of stars to you” in prayer last Sunday, to “I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon but I’ll be seeing you” from his father-bride dance with Barbara, to The Irish Blessing Patty will recite in a moment, these references to nature and the universe are inherently Celtic, going as far back as to the druids. Mystical and perfect for the great man we have all looked up to.

In March, our center of gravity shifted to the heavens, and our north star now joins her there. We’ll be seeing you dad.