Harold "Dusty" Ray Holm

Obituary: On Monday, June 25, 2018, at 11:27am, Harold Ray Holm

“Dusty” 68, passed away in his home surrounded by loved

ones, and with all of his treasures from his life filled with

adventures.

He is preceded in death by his daughter, Suzanne

Schweikart; and parents, Leonard and Dorothy Holm.

Harold is survived his daughter, Jennifer Holm Conway, son in-

law Rodney McCoy Conway; grandchildren: Andrew,

Nathan, and Parker Conway; Emily and Georgia Schweikart;

his brother Frank Holm, sister-in-law Helen, niece Vanessa

and nephew Jonathan. Harold is survived by countless

friends, but special mention must be made to John “Luc”

Lucas, his “partner-in-crime.” The family would like to give a

special thank you to Renee Ortiz (Harold’s caregiver, who he

referred to as his “part-time wife”) for her tender care in his

final days.

Harold always made sure that the freezer was stocked with

ice cream for the grandkids (and to sneak some for himself).

Deep sea fishing was one of his all-time favorite passions; so

much so, that fishing lures, tackle boxes, fishing reels, and

fishing-related knick-knacks, decorate the curio cabinets all

around his home. Harold was an extremely skilled,

ambidextrous welder. Welding became a lifelong artistic

passion for him. Another passion was food. Tuna fish

sandwiches and Mexican food were his favorites, but then

again, any type of food would do. Harold loved classic cars as

well. He tinkered with cars (whether it was the correct way to

do it, or not) and made it work for him. If he spotted a yard

sale or thrift store, he had to stop, look, and search for

treasures to add to his collection. He loved to tell jokes, and

make others laugh. He would light up a room with his

charismatic smile, and make friends wherever he would go.

Harold never met a stranger. Those who knew him will

understand his favorite question: “Can you poke your head

through his hole?

Eulogy: I remember well that I couldn’t go anywhere with Dad without running into someone he knew. Since we lived in the middle of nowhere, going to the nearest 7-11 with him was a real treat. Much of our time together was spent playing cards, going to restaurants, going to thrift shops, yard sales, open houses, and just shopping in general. He tried so hard to get me to love fishing like he did, but with no success.

Dad had all sorts of toys like boats, tractors, and cars. He encouraged me to drive them all. We lived on a dirt road, so when all the neighborhood kids started riding quads, go-karts, and such, Dad bought me “the Jeep,” which is basically a power-wheels for adults. The neighborhood kids and I would somehow all pile on to that thing and drive it all over the dirt roads. We still have it for my kids.

Dad made all sorts of things for me when I was a kid. He made an extra seat for “the Jeep,” and a ramp for my bike. I remember having to build a pyramid for a class project. Dad welded the frame, and I stitched the fabric cover.

I think it was hard for Dad when I grew up, and I wasn’t his little girl anymore. My Dad and husband worked in similar fields, so after Dad met my husband-to-be, he called his work buddies to find out more. My husband was pretty shocked and amused when he was approached by Dad’s friend, John Miller.

I have many memories of Dad’s BEST friend, “Luc.” But the memory most prominent in my grown-up mind is when Luc would tell adult jokes, and Dad absolutely hated it. Luc and I would laugh hysterically; not even at the joke anymore, but just at Dad for pitching a fit about it.

He loved being a “Papa,” and delighted in providing the grandkids with ice cream, toys, or anything they wanted (whether I approved or not). It seemed like he wanted to fill them full of sugar before we left.

At the end of it all, I know he was proud of me. I think he was even proud of me when I stood up to him. He would get a little smirk on his face and shrug his shoulders. Maybe that’s where I get my feistiness from? Dad and I had a lot of ups and downs; but I loved him, and I know he loved me.

“His Journey’s Just Begun”

By Ellen Brenneman

Don’t think of him as gone away

his journey’s just begun,

life holds so many facets

this earth is only one.

Just think of him as resting

from the sorrows and the tears

in a place of warmth and comfort

where there are no days and years.

Think how he must be wishing

that we could know today

how nothing but our sadness

can really pass away.

And think of him as living

in the hearts of those he touched…

for nothing loved is ever lost

and he was loved so much.