Bennett Earl Folmar

Bennett Earl Folmar died unexpectedly on Sunday, September 2, 2018 at the age of eighty-two while visiting his sister, Jacqueline, in Birmingham, Alabama. Ben, the fourth son of Herbert Lee and Pauline Robberson Folmar, was born in Fairhope, Alabama. Ben's father, Herbert, relocated the family whenever the need arose in his work as a machine operator during The Depression, often interrupting Ben's education, which began in a Birmingham, Alabama suburb known as Tarrant. Six years after beginning school, the family moved to rural Jemison, Alabama where limited opportunities inspired Ben's two hitchhiking journeys to California, after which he joined the United States Air Force. Trained in communications during boot camp in Wyoming, he subsequently served three years in the military, stationed in Wiesbaden, Germany. Ben returned to Alabama to attend college at Samford University in Birmingham, working evenings at The Birmingham News until his graduation in 1962. After graduating from college, Ben was employed with Western Union in Los Angeles, California, where he worked as a regional director and later coordinated press releases during Richard Nixon's 1968 presidential campaign, a work assignment and adventure which took him all over the country. After shifting his focus to Human Resources, Ben worked in Western Union's national headquarters in Upper Saddle River, New Jersey until the end of his nearly thirty-year career with the company. When the opportunity to work in Human Resources with Lear Corporation, an automobile parts manufacturer in Wentzville, Missouri, arose, he seized it and later worked with the company's successors in Winchester and Strasburg, Virginia, from which he retired at the age of seventy-nine.

Ben is survived by his wife of thirty-three years, Patricia Lenihan Folmar, of Winchester, Virginia, his daughter, Olivia Leigh Sullivan and son-in-law, Dustin Mark Sullivan of Nashville, Tennessee and his son, Bradford Kent Folmar and daughter-in-law, Lindsay Diane Folmar, of Nashville, Tennessee. He leaves behind two grandsons, Bennett Patrick Sullivan and Gabriel Logan Folmar. Ben is also survived by five of his ten siblings, Dr. John K. Folmar of California, Pennsylvania, David S. Folmar and his wife, Augusta Folmar, of Sealy, Texas, Jacqueline Presley of Birmingham, Alabama, Sandra Landon of Fairfield Bay, Arkansas and Paul Folmar of Fairhope, Alabama. Seventeen nieces and nephews also survive, including John K. Folmar, Jr., of Belle Vernon, Pennsylvania, Tramel L. Folmar of California, Pennsylvania, Forrest Folmar of Kittery, Maine and Brendan A. Folmar I of South Chesterfield, Virginia.

Ben is predeceased by his parents and his oldest brother, James Wilbur Folmar, of Verona, Virginia. His brothers, Herbert Lowell, Sherrell, Donald Lewis and a sister, Peggy June, all died as young children. Ben is also predeceased by his paternal grandparents, Shelby Carter and Annie Laura Lowell Folmar of Bay Minette, Alabama and by his maternal grandparents, Edmond Harrison and Exa Mae Robberson of Birmingham, Alabama.

Days before his passing, Ben had purchased a small piece of property for the construction of a vacation cabin in northern Mississippi. It adjoined the property of longtime friend, former employee of Lear Corporation and service station owner, Jack Alkire, of Winchester, Virginia. Ben loved driving his "stick shift" cars and regularly visited his children and grandchildren in Nashville, Tennessee, his brother, John, and his nephews in California, Pennsylvania, his sister, Jackie, in Birmingham, Alabama and his friend, Jack, in Myrtle, Mississippi.

A memorial service was held on Sunday, September 9, 2018 at the Woodlawn-Roesch-Patten Funeral Home in Nashville, Tennessee. Eulogies were delivered by Ben's children, Olivia and Brad, and by his best friend, Jack, two of which are available online. May our very dear Bennett Earl Folmar rest in peace.

Olivia Sullivan’s Eulogy for her beloved father, Bennett Folmar

Delivered September 9, 2018

On behalf of my brother, Brad, and mother, Pattie, we thank you all for coming today to celebrate the life of Bennett Earl Folmar. When I think about the relationship I had with my Dad, the word "comfortable" comes to mind. My Dad was so easy to be around. He never needed to be entertained and was content just existing alongside of me. One of my favorite memories is sitting on the couch next to my Dad drinking coffee together and chatting, usually about politics. And this is actually the last thing we did together. He was eager to get on the road and I convinced him to stay a little longer until my baby boy, his namesake, woke up from his nap. We put on another pot of coffee and gabbed for an additional hour or so.

Dad loved a good cup of coffee. He also had a sweet tooth, which I inherited from him. He was a great listener - always asking for updates on things we were working on, or what our friends may be up to. For his age, really for any age, my Dad was incredibly active. Up until his last day, he walked for miles around Winchester, Virginia and rode his bike with his best friend Jack down in Mississippi. Once he even walked from my house in East Nashville to my office downtown. It was about 95 degrees outside and the trek was 7 miles round trip! But Dad wasn't fazed. Dad was strong. He didn't consider himself old. Once we had a conversation about growing older and I asked him if he felt his age. He replied that he felt exactly the same as he did when he was about 25, which is why he was always surprised to look in the mirror and see that he wasn't. Dad always seemed so young to me too.

When I was in high school, my dad used to wake me up early on Saturday morning to go to the store with him. Occasionally my brother would join, but he often preferred to sleep in. We'd hop in his car and drive to get coffee and donuts, then to the grocery store to pick up odds and ends. Dad would play music - Bob Seger, The Band, Jackson Brown, Tom Petty, and others. It was such a special ritual. I felt like my Dad and I could look at each other and really see the other person. Again, I'm reminded of that word "comfortable".

With my Dad I also felt a tremendous sense of security. He was so reliable. He was also incredibly helpful. He moved me in and out of my college dorm, apartment, sorority house, and after college, when I decided I wanted to move to Nashville, my Dad drove the U-Haul and moved me into my first apartment here. For years after we laughed about the two of us carrying my enormous headboard that probably weighed a ton around the back of the apartment building and into my bedroom.

I have so many memories like this with my Dad, but I have even more memories of times when our father/daughter relationship more closely resembled a true friendship. My dad was always up for anything. We took him to trendy restaurants, to bars, to beer festivals, to concerts, and to parties. One of the most fun we ever had together was the trip we made down to New Orleans for my cousins' wedding. We drove down from Nashville while my Dad told us tales about his childhood growing up in Alabama and, more importantly, how he managed to get out of Alabama. We had a ball at the wedding. I'd never seen my dad drink that many vodka tonics and when we stumbled back to our Airbnb after the festivities, my Dad, my husband, Dustin, and I stood around in the kitchen until about 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning drunk, eating cheese and crackers and laughing and chatting about the traditional New Orleans second line parade, the incredible wedding band, the beignets from Cafe Du Monde, and so much more.

I can't imagine that losing a parent would be easy for anyone, but I think in the case of my Dad, it's so difficult to let go because he was such a special person to me. Yes, he was my father, but he was also my friend. The world without him in it seems just less than. But I am so grateful for the time we had together, even though I want more.

My Dad wasn't a particularly religious person, though he was spiritual. He told me that his beliefs probably most closely aligned with the Native American's, which I can understand because I've spent some time in Taos, New Mexico, and it's difficult to deny the presence of God or something greater than ourselves, when you're in a place like that. But Dad had his doubts, as do I, but he never seemed too concerned. Whereas I find myself wanting more, my Dad was content in the present moment. He loved life. He loved his life and his family and his friends and that was enough for him. I find comfort in that. My Dad was truly happy.

I'll carry my Dad with me always. I'll never forget his face and the way he was standing when I walked down the staircase toward him on my wedding day. And I'll never forget his reaction when I told him that we were going to name our baby after him. I hope I can honor his legacy by finding joy in the everyday and by sharing my love and kindness with everyone I meet. I hope my children will feel as comfortable, safe, and loved with me as I did with my Dad.

I love you Dad and I miss you terribly. I hope to see you again someday.

Brad Folmar’s Eulogy for his beloved Father, Bennett Folmar

Delivered September 9, 2018

Since losing my Dad, I've read about grief and sought council to help me cope with it. In these past several days, one thing I've found is that death is not unique. We're here today to reflect upon my Dad's passing because, although it's not unusual, exceptional or extraordinary, it remains unknown to us and is one of the many mysteries of human life. Even more interesting to me is that losing my Dad, whom we all loved so dearly, feels unlike anything else I've ever experienced. It's sharp, painful...and incredibly real.

In March of 2017, I asked my dad if I could interview him. Liv and I were always so infatuated with his stories. He had lived this entire life before Olivia and I were even born, and I wanted to have those stories and that part of him for the rest of my adult life when my Dad wouldn’t be around…

During the interview, I asked him a series of questions and explained that I would need clarification and specific answers from him… Here’s what I found: My dad grew up in the deep south in rural Alabama. There was nothing glamorous about his upbringing and, unlike Liv and I, he didn’t have much of a father. As a teenager, he eventually skipped town and hitchhiked to California because he told me that he wasn’t cut out to be a farmer and didn’t believe he was an asset to his family. On his way to California, he got picked up in Midland, Texas by a police officer who had arrested him for no apparent reason. The next morning, the cop had left five dollars for him (which was a lot of money in the 1950’s) to get him back on the road and off the street the night before. He told me that he remembered feeling very grateful that day. That same day, he would end up getting picked up by a freightliner that was heading down to Juarez, Mexico that would eventually get him up to San Diego, California. The deal was that if he helped unload and load the freight in the truck, he’d secure himself a ride on the 18-wheeler into California. We’re still not sure what he was exactly “unloading” in Juarez, Mexico. He eventually made it to Los Angeles (which is where he wanted to end up) and picked up a couple of odd jobs, while sleeping in the bushes (temporarily) outside the Los Angeles library.

My dad’s saving grace was when he joined the Air Force. He almost went to the Army, until his friend guided him toward the Air Force, telling him that, “them Fly Boys got it made!” But long story short, my dad knew that the Air Force was his ticket to a solid education. From there, the story just begins… he would later graduate from Samford University, attend the first-ever Super Bowl, hit the road with Richard Nixon, play a competitive tennis match against inmates in a state prison just for fun, get married, raise two children, meet and spend time with two of his grandchildren and have a successful career that he loved until just a few years before his death. He was the kind of man they don’t make anymore. A simple man who always put others before himself. Well educated. Zero ego. Less was always more. He understood that you could leave life at any moment, so he treated people well with that in mind. He refused to complain about anything, constantly telling me that, “you’ve got it made, son!” and to, “never sweat the small stuff...”

What I’ve come to realize since his passing is that my father was a gift. He was tenured, mature, comfortable in his own skin and really understood that things had a way of working themselves out and that getting bumped around a little was a good thing. This afforded us the opportunity to learn from someone much older and wiser. Learn things that most men and women wouldn’t learn from their fathers until they were in their 40’s and 50’s. All I know is that my Dad went out on top, and that was a part of his gift to his family. My Dad allowed me to create a life for myself that I know he will continue to be proud of. I plan to honor this gift that he gave to me and continue to carry out his legacy and make him proud in all of my years to come.

…. And maybe, just maybe, buy a Porsche 911 one day in his honor…