Vernon "Bud" Carl Gross Jr.

Vernon "Bud" Carl Gross Jr., 81, of Ooltewah went home to be with the Lord on Sunday, 22 May 2022, surrounded by his family. He was born in Lancaster, PA, on 16 November 1940, to the late Vernon Carl Gross Sr. and Jeanne Howett Gross. Bud was a graduate of Virginia Tech. He loved his Hokies and attended several reunions over the years with Kathy. After graduation and marriage to his beloved wife in 1965, he bravely served his country in Vietnam as a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Army. Bud completed his service in the military in early 1967 after attaining the rank of First Lieutenant and took a job with IBM where he flourished throughout a 32-year-long career. Bud gave of his time freely to a variety of institutions and organizations including the Veterans of Foreign Wars, the American Legion, and the Vietnam Veterans of America, Chapter 203. He also served as an officer for the North Carolina Vietnam Veterans Incorporated and ran their college scholarship program for many years. When Bud joined the Gideons in 1996, he realized his passion for sharing God’s Word and served as an officer in both his local camp and at the state level as treasurer. After moving to Chattanooga in 2016, Bud and Kathy joined Morris Hill Baptist Church where he loved serving as a deacon and on the safety committee.

Bud and Kathy relished life together for fifty-seven years. They were frequent overseas travelers, especially after Bud’s retirement, enjoying trips to Israel, Australia, New Zealand, Alaska, the British Isles, Germany, France, Lichtenstein, Holland, Austria, Scandinavia, Greece, the Greek Islands, Egypt, Mexico, and Italy. Their favorite trips, however, occurred every summer when they went to the beach with their children and grandchildren. Bud and Kathy embraced adventure and fun. They parasailed, ziplined, whitewater rafted, and sailed with family and friends.

In addition to his parents, Bud was also preceded in death by his brother, Barry Robert Gross.

He is survived by his wife, Kathleen "Kathy" Mitchell Gross, son, Christopher Gross (Angela) of Ooltewah, daughters, Jennifer Davis (John) of Anniston, AL., and Diana Seward (Neil) of Colonial Heights, VA., who collectively gave him nine grandchildren: Madison, Wilson, John-Rhodes, Ashley, Katelyn, Julia, Owen, Isabella, and Titus. He is also survived by his sister, Frances Bingham (Charles) of

Lititz, PA., brother- in-law, Alan Mitchell (Faustine) of Savannah, GA., and two nephews, Alan Mitchell (Deanna) and Andrew Mitchell (Kristin).

A Celebration of Life will be held at 1:00 pm Thursday, 9 June 2022, at Morris Hill Baptist Church with the Rev. James Click officiating. The family will receive friends from 11:00 am until time of service at the church. Following the Celebration of Life, family members will attend the inurnment in the Chattanooga National Cemetery with full military honors.

In lieu of flowers the family requests that donations be made in Bud’s name to the Gideon's International Chattanooga, Northeast Camp at P.O. Box 16041, Chattanooga, TN 37416 to continue Bud’s mission of spreading the Good News of the Gospel.

Please share your memories of Bud with the family at www.chattanoogaeastbrainerdchapel.com

Arrangements are by the East Brainerd Chapel of Chattanooga Funeral Home, Crematory and Florist, 8214 E. Brainerd Rd., Chattanooga, TN 37421.

From: Jennifer Gross Davis

My Dad’s life was too extraordinary to be fully described in the short time I have today. Instead, I’d like to share a few memories that represent for me who my father was.

Dad was a wonderful spouse to my mother. I remember this one Christmas when I was a teenager, I offered to help Dad pick out his gifts for Mom. At that point in my young life, I had worked at various retail stores in the mall and thus thought that I was an expert on choosing gifts. Dad said, “no, I’ve got it.” And sure enough, he did. I should have known, not only were the gifts Dad chose always spot-on, he also wrapped each one himself and included little notes giving her hints about what the gift was. This particular year, he sent her on a scavenger hunt with wrapped boxes containing clue after clue. The hunt culminated in one of those little ugly troll dolls, that they already owned — that wasn’t the gift though, the gift was the diamond earrings Dad had put in its ears. My parents’ relationship was an early lesson in what I should both expect from and give to my own marriage. They taught me by example what it meant to be loving and thoughtful partners. I use that term, partner, very specifically because Dad and Mom weren’t just husband and wife, they were truly partners in everything they did, and they did everything together, from the most mundane things like going to Costco to exciting things like traveling the world.

Just as Dad epitomized what a good partner should be, he also showed me what a model parent should and could be. Growing up, Dad’s love and support was an ever-present force in my life. I have a multitude of memories that are a testament to the kind of father my dad was, but one from high school still resonates. Throughout high school, my brother, sister, and I all played a myriad of sports. I cannot remember a single game, home or away, that my Dad and Mom did not attend. Going to a small Christian school that only played other Christian schools required extensive travel for away games, sometimes as far as 2.5 hours away, making those games a challenge for many parents. Not my parents though. Not only were they there, Dad also got a special driver’s license so he could drive the bus. He regularly drove our teams to the away games with Mom riding shotgun beside him.

For his family, friends, and even strangers, my Dad embodied generosity. He was the kind of man who just did things for people, usually without being asked. He would give you the shirt off his back, or in my case, his shorts. In my senior year of high school, I fell in love with this ratty old pair of ripped-up jean shorts that dad wore when he did yard work. Now, these shorts were far too big for me, but if I wore them on my hips with a belt, Dad’s old, webbed belt incidentally, they were at least in my mind the epitome of teen fashion in the late 1980s. So, one night when I was going out with friends, I asked Dad if I could borrow them. He looked a little perplexed but said “okaaaay” and told me where they were. I came downstairs dressed in those shorts, his white webbed belt, and a tie-dyed tee shirt. He just smiled and said something like “that’s what you’re wearing to go out?” I just groaned and like a typical teenager said, “Dad…” As the summer went on, I raided his dresser for those shorts over and over until one day I went to get them, and they weren’t in the drawer. Instead, they were in my room on my bed. My Dad, knowing how much I loved those shorts, in his mind probably inexplicably, just decided that I should have them rather than borrow them. He never said a word about it, he just gave them to me because he knew I loved those shorts, and he found something else to wear when he did yard work.

When I became an adult and moved out on my own, Dad’s language of love, at least for me, was to fix things. Every first visit by my parents to every home I moved into included multiple trips to Lowes or Home Depot. Dad would size up the place, decide what needed to be done, usually related to safety, then we’d go out and get whatever supplies we needed. I remember when I moved into this one townhouse in Athens, Dad took one look at the glass French doors with a simple deadbolt and said, “nope. That needs a keyed lock. Anyone can just break that glass and turn the deadbolt and get in here.” So, off we went to Lowes where Dad bought a keyed lock. When we told the landlord that he’d made the change and gave him a key to the new lock, the landlord was a little less than enthused about my dad’s proactive behavior, but Dad didn’t care. He just said something along the lines of, “My daughter’s not going to live in a place that I don’t think is as safe as it should be without me doing something to make it safer for her. You should be thanking me. I didn’t even ask you to pay for the new lock.”

Although many of the memories I’ve shared so far have been from my youth or young adulthood, the memories that have more meaning for me now that he’s gone are more recent. Dad was a great Dad, but he was an even better Pop. Whether he was reading to my kids, holding their hands in the surf on our annual beach vacation, acting goofy with them at Christmas time, or turning on a silly Youtube video for a grandchild who was peeping over his shoulder at his laptop, my children knew how much their Pop loved them, and they loved him back just as ferociously. It is their loss that I feel most intensely. I got to have him for half a century. Their time with him was cut far too short.

My memories of my father are filled with moments that perhaps seemed insignificant at the time, but upon reflection, they reveal his daily devotion to and unyielding love for his family. Dad accomplished many things during his lifetime, but his legacy is definitely his family who all loved him and will miss him terribly. Dad was a paragon who could always be counted on for good advice, loving words, and unfailing support all offered with a wry sense of humor. Every day that goes by without him I will embrace my memories of him.

Undoubtedly, sometimes those memories will bring me to tears, but in time, I’m sure I’ll be able to smile and laugh, and I know that he’ll be looking down from heaven smiling and laughing right along with me.

From: Diana Seward

I’m Diana, the youngest. Although I came last, I have the pleasure of going first today. In his 81 years, my dad was a lot of things to a lot of people. He served in different positions in many organizations and knew people from all over. To me, my dad was security, steadiness, a source of comfort, calmness, and a bit of goofiness when needed. Although I was technically the youngest, I’ve often said that my middle and high school years kind of felt like being an only child. My brother and sister were graduated and out of the house for all that time. Looking back, I think the most substantial thing for me is that my dad was there. He was present. Dad was always there when I needed him. He was at all my games—he even drove the school bus to help the athletic teams. Dad and mom were on the Booster club, and they did all sorts of things behind the scenes. Dad kept the scorebook for teams and supplied that Tootsie Roll pops that kept some of the yelling to a minimum. He even bought and wore that awful, kelly-green blazer to show his support! One thing I always knew then and since then was that if I had a problem, all I had to do was call him. There was the one time when I was in college, when I was trying to be a good employee and rescue a sign but accidently scraped the living daylights out of some stranger’s car. She was very unhappy with me, but I called dad and he somehow fixed things. I’m sure it wasn’t easy or cheap, but he took care of me. There was the speeding ticket in grad school…he couldn’t “fix” that, but he did accompany his more-than-an-adult child to court as support. He totally could have said I was old enough to do it alone, and I was, but he knew I needed him, and he was there. There were the times before he left IBM when I would call from college with computer questions. Of course, those eventually turned into, “I don’t know anymore. Call your brother!” Or there was simply the time a few weeks ago when I called to find out what the corn dish was that Nana fixed at Thanksgiving each year when we’d go to Pennsylvania. I was certain that the Amish family who had just fed our group made the same dish! So many times in the past few weeks, I’ve thought, “I wish I could just ask Dad.” I feel like we talked a lot, but now that we can’t, there are so many things I wish we had talked about.

When I was thinking about what to say today, I thought about all the things my dad taught me growing up. He taught me many practical things from car care to finances. Dad taught me an excellent work ethic and loyalty to my commitments. He also taught me to be generous. He was generous to many groups over the years like the Christian Life Home (he was passionate about those babies!), the Gideons, and many different missionaries. I can remember quite a few people coming to our house to share about their mission work, and my parents pledging to support them that year.

When thinking about my dad, I also remember silly things like his teeth trick. Because my dad had two permanent teeth knocked out when he was younger, he had artificial implant in front. On occasion, if I begged hard enough, he would pop those teeth out and make funny faces or voices for me. It was hilarious. Speaking of voices, no one could do a better Goofy impression than my dad. Another funny and unique thing about my dad is that he could type faster using just two fingers on each hand than most people can type using all five on each hand. In fact, he used those four fingers to type my research papers for me in middle school and high school. He didn’t type my paper for me for free, of course. A note in the front of my Vietnam POW/MIA research paper (“Gone, but Not Forgotten”) proves that I raked 20 bags of leaves in exchange for him typing my paper for me! 20 bags!! I think I earned it!!

Other things that come to mind are just the normal day-to-day of growing up. Every morning Dad read a devotional at the breakfast table, and he led us in prayer before starting the day. Every morning he would kiss my mom goodbye on his way out the door and then when he would come home, the first thing he did was kiss her hello. It’s just those little memories that stick with me. My dad was a wonderful example of a loving husband, father, and God-fearing man, and I’m so thankful that I got to grow up with him as my father, and that I got to bring five of his grandchildren into a world where he was there to love them, read Hop on Pop to them, pray for them, and be their Pop.

From: Chris Gross

I’d like to start by thanking the MHBC family, Silverdale BC family, Gideons and Auxiliary Family and dear friends and family that have continually prayed for us during this time, sent wonderful encouraging messages and cards, shared touching memories of Dad and kept us well fed. We are so thankful for the outpouring of love and support.

I miss Dad, more than I thought I could. These last, almost 3 weeks, I’ve had a lot of time to think about Dad, and all the wonderful memories. Going to the beach as a kid, visiting family in PA as a kid, Christmas’s in Raleigh, Going to the beach as family with all the grands… 4th of July at Pops in the park… just so many wonderful memories. The memories are wonderful, but I think the way Dad helped and served others was his true blessing in this life. Dad was a proud Vietnam Vet and taught us early to respect the Flag, and our Armed Forces. Dad loved the Gideons and Auxiliary and served and supported them for as long as I can remember. Dad loved us kids and supported us in all our crazy endeavors. He let us make mistakes and thankfully was there to help us up when we fell, with loving correction of course… Dad loved Mom faithfully for 57 years and gave us a model of love, laughter, and support that every wife should be lucky to experience. Dad loved Jesus and shared of His Good News and the importance of a personal relationship with Him. By that example, all his kids and grands have come to know the Lord as their personal savior. I think he would be most proud of that fact.

The part of me and Dad’s life story that I often think about and hold very dear is that my path to the Gross family was not your average route… In June of 1970, I was born to a single mom who gave me up for adoption. Thankfully Dad and Mom adopted me in August of 1970 after being told they couldn’t have children. In God’s plan, their loss was my gain… I was 2 months old and had no idea I had just hit the life lottery jackpot. God knew I needed them, and they needed me. God had a special plan for Dad to be my Dad and I thank Him every day that He placed me in this Family. I’m truly blessed and blessed to have a great Dad for almost 52 years. Thank you so much for letting me share my thoughts about Dad.

I’d like to conclude by reading the note he wrote me in my baby book after my adoption was final, It’s a glimpse of him as a person and a new father in 1970.

Dear Son,

The first sight of you answered the question your mother and I had – “What if we don’t like him or what if he cries when he sees us?” Well, you didn’t cry, and we loved you at first sight. My first thoughts after you decided we were OK and we decided you were OK was a hope that the world and most importantly, your closest environment would be peaceful, and happy and without bigotry.

I love you, Daddy

Vernon Carl Gross, Jr. my dad, my hero.

I love you pop and miss you every day!