Theodore Roosevelt Gilmore Jr.

Theodore Roosevelt Gilmore Jr. was born on November 14, 1933 in the midst of the Great Depression & passed away on October 10th 2023. He was the 2nd child of 5, having 3 sisters and one brother, all of whom have preceded him in death. He leaves behind 3 living children: two sons, Matthew & Anthony, and one daughter, Maria, 7 grandchildren and four great grandchildren. His oldest son, Theodore Roosevelt Gilmore III preceded him in death in 2003.

Little is known about my father’s early years other than grew up in North Carolina before his family moved to Virginia. When he married my mother, Barbara, in 1959, he was a driver for the Pentagon motor pool where he boasted of chauffeuring generals and admirals. My family moved to San Francisco around 1965, while petty officer Gilmore went to welding school at Treasure Island. He was subsequently stationed on the USS Horne DLG 30, a guided missile destroyer that did 4 tours in Vietnam. My father had the dubious honor of making Hull Technician First Class at least twice within his 20 year career but still managed to earn three good conduct awards.

As we gather today to remember his good conduct, in many ways, he was the typical father. My sister Maria remembers how she would dance on top of his feet in our living room. I have memories of him holding us up in the air balanced on his two feet and swinging us around like airplanes. He would often take us to Painted Gorge up near Plaster City where we went to ride our motorcycle and mini-bike, and he would also take us fishing for Corvina at the Salton Sea. We saw the Blue Angels air show almost every year at the nearby base where he was stationed, and when it changed to the National Parachute Test Range, he was a welder who worked on parachutes for the Apollo Space program, and did work on pilot ejection systems for other flights as well.

Perhaps what I will remember most is how my father was an expert at teaching his children important life lessons. In my younger years when I was in the 2nd grade, my father decided to challenge my brother & I to do a one way evening walk from Plaster City to our desert town of Seeley, 9.4 miles away. Six or seven miles into the walk, when I felt like my legs would fall off, I began repeatedly inquiring, “how much further?!” He told me that I was capable of walking further than I thought I could, and also said that if I did not keep up, he would leave me behind. (I think my brother Ted mentioned something about rattlesnakes as motivation.) In my father’s compassion, I found myself on his shoulders for a time, giving me the rest I needed to finish the last mile on my own. That taught me about perseverance and literally going the extra mile.

Another lesson I recall was from the 3rd grade: When I asked him about the Copenhagen tobacco he chewed, he said it was “like” candy. When I asked if I could have some, he said it was expensive and if taken, I could not spit it out. Three shades of green later, he allowed me to spew out his “candy”. My father taught me life lessons that day about researching contracts before you signed the dotted line, and about literally not biting off more than I can chew.

But my father wasn’t just a professor at the School of Hard Knocks. He decided that his children should acquire some level of competence with the things he himself found to be of interest. A nearby family friend, who owned a farm with cattle, taught my dad how to groom and ride a horse, strap a saddle, and clean hooves. After learning these skills, he purchased two horses and taught us in turn.

Theodore owned several rifles, a 22, 308 with a magazine, a single shot Springfield .30-06 and a double barrel shotgun & would often take his 3 oldest children out “target shooting,” in an attempt to teach us how to handle a rifle without fear. We became somewhat proficient, though none of us were of marksman caliber. We had to be sure not to aim high, as our town was on the other side of the cliff where we placed our targets. (We definitely would have rained hell fire & hot metal upon that town if we shot 75 feet off target.) My Father talked me into firing the 308. He tenderly mentored me, nuzzling the butt of the gun securely into my shoulder. Long story short, after nearly tearing my arm off, I stuck with the 22.

My father had hobbies beside fishing, drinking and shooting: he invested in a CB radio and bought a 500 watt linear amplifier for it with the antenna up on our TV tower, about 25 feet in the air. When the trucker across the way, who got him interested in CB radios, warned him it was interfering with TV’s, and the FCC could triangulate his location, he cut back to late night use. But even then, he occasionally liked to play it on the edge.

Theodore could be a generous man. I recall how he brought at least two different men into our home he had found on the street that were homeless. He helped them get jobs then sent them on their way after a month or two. He attended most of his children's high school graduations, usually gifting money. The picture shown here is from my 1980 graduation. To my memory, he attended all of his children’s weddings. I remember riding with him all night to help a fellow sailor, stranded without money for gas, get home in time for work on Monday.

And though we gather to share in the memories of good, he, like us all, was not without his faults. Following his active duty in the Navy, HT1 Gilmore was transferred to the Fleet Reserve in June of 1974. That same year, he rode his motorcycle right through a restraining order to break down my mother’s front door during their divorce proceedings. Notwithstanding, my father influenced my life for the better, and although I carried some of his baggage with me for years, I finally learned to cast off that anchor and come to peace with who my father was.

His drinking, his volatile service-related mental state, and his lifestyle took their toll on his health, and he was placed under a conservatorship for over 30 years. This duty was handled in turn by each of his three sons. He became a grandfather and great-grandfather during this time, answering to the name of “Pops.” The stories Pops would impose upon any who would listen became repetitious. Some were true, but according to his older sister, at least two were pure fabrications. Sailors know how to spin a good fish tale, but my father liked to harpoon the whales. He enjoyed regaling us with dubious claims of family relations to famous people. One notable, and unvalidated example being Josephus Daniels, the Secretary of the Navy whose infamy stems from banning alcohol from all US Navy ships. Even if true, the better part of valor dictated I keep my mouth shut while in the Navy myself, for the simple reason that sailors like their beer.

Today we are gathered here to relieve my father, HT1 Theodore Roosevelt Gilmore Jr., of his final watch and to bid him fair winds and following seas. May the waters ahead be calmer than the ones behind, and may you find safe harbor in Heaven where the hurricanes of life you have left in your wake.

(Boatswain's whistle): Now hear this, Theodore R Gilmore Jr. your watch has ended. (8 bells) HT1 Gilmore Departed. (Salute).