OBITUARY

Raymond George Hammond

April 25, 1951January 6, 2021

On Wednesday, January 6, 2021, Raymond George Hammond, loving husband and father of two, passed away at the age of 69. Ray was born on April 25, 1951 in Keene, NH to Seth and Fanny Hammond. He received his associates degree in electronics. He served in the U.S. Marine Corps from 1970-1977, reaching the rank of Staff Sergeant. He had a very long career working for BAE Systems, working there for over four decades up until his passing. He married Gloria Galapate Cristobal on January 15, 1973. They raised a daughter, Raena Tala (née Rae Ann), and a son, John. Ray loved music, art, gardening, fishing, golfing, baseball, and taking long drives. If there was anywhere he was going, he took the long way around. His heart was deep, and he kept much of what was going on for him to himself, while offering strength and wisdom and effort for people whenever there was need. He was brilliant and multi-talented—an artist, an engineer, he was percussionist in the Marines. He had a great voice, and you knew things were good when there was random bursting out in made-up song. He had a great sense of humor, and it was always great to hear him laugh. Ray is preceded in death by his mother and father, Fanny and Seth, his sister, Pauline, brother Butch. He is survived by his wife Gloria; children, Raena and John; granddaughter, Marena; sister, Marie; brothers, Bill and Charlie; and nieces and nephews. A private family funeral service will be held January 18, 2021 in Acworth, NH.

Services

No public services are scheduled at this time. Receive a notification when services are updated.

Memories

Raymond George Hammond

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Peter Bratko

January 21, 2021

A memory of Ray doing what he loved to do - playing golf. Ray played in many charity golf tournaments. We all always had fun. In the photo left to right - Pete, Sharleen, Ray, Tim.
Ray - Rest in Peace

Peter Bratko

January 18, 2021


Ray and I first met at BAE Systems in 1987. We were both test engineers on a new project. He focused on hardware design and I on software design. We worked well together and quickly became good friends. Had lots of good times. The project progressed well and we made an impression as a good team. I was not a golfer at the time. I remember telling Ray “that’s an old man sport.” Time went by and I left the company. In year 2000, Ray talked me into returning to BAE for the THAAD project. Ray was highly respected for his hardware skills. Sometimes he was a bit ornery, but not in a bad way. He was somewhat of a perfectionist at work. Ray would spend long hours and weekends looking for the prefect solution to the problem at hand.

When I returned to BAE, the golf bug had bit me. Up to his last days, he never let me forget that old man comment. Ray loved golf. He had a tremendous natural talent. He and I, along with the others of our foursome, Tim and Bill, played regularly on Fridays and in most of the BAE organized tournaments. Ray was a real competitor, while at the same time, a comedian and showman.

Ray and I spent many work hours together and well as lots of lunches and post work activities. Always liked Ray’s John Wayne impressions. Works wonders to lighten the atmosphere in work meetings gone bad.

Ray enjoyed gambling, we made many trips to Foxwoods. We had personal bets on all kinds of ridiculous things, many of which had no winner. The classic was who would be first - him building his shed kit or me installing a truck remote starter. It went on for years, then I got rid of the truck. It was in his hands, but then about a year later, he gave away the shed, and we finally declared it a draw.

I miss Ray, as I’m sure we all do.

Ray - hope the golf courses are wonderful up there. Rest In Peace.

Pete

FROM THE FAMILY
FROM THE FAMILY

My dad passed away Jan 6. He was a pure-hearted person, standing up and leaning in for people whenever there was a need. He was a hard person to know; he kept whatever was going on for him to himself and tightly managed his environment because he was a highly sensitive person. This could make him a growly bear, but he was also really a big teddy bear. And he was especially that for his granddaughter. I know he was very proud of her, and held affinity with her through knowing the challenges that come with being highly sensitive and exceptionally gifted. When she was first born, my mom was sharing how “Lola” was “grandmother” in the Philippines, and “Lolo” was “grandfather,” and my dad, a 6-foot veteran Marine and New Englander, protested, “Don’t call me ‘Lolo’! ... call me ‘Grumpy’!” And then laughed. He owned himself. Ha, and so she has a couple cards and email messages signed, “Love, Grumpy”. He was multi-talented— an artist, an engineer, a percussionist, though I never got to hear him play an actual drum, just whatever surface he had in front of him. He had a great voice, and you knew things were good when there was random bursting out in made-up song. He loved fishing and golfing and taking long drives. We were just as passionate as each other, just as stubborn as each other, and we had similar senses of humors. He taught me a lot. He told my mom before leaving that he would be there for us, and myself, brother, mother, and daughter are all experiencing knowings and synchronicities since his passing that have helped open paths where we were blocked as we sort through things. He’s definitely there. I do hear him in my mind’s ear, and I start talking with him. I hear his laughter. It’s something I have always held and connected to—it starts as a low rumble of thunder in his belly that builds and bursts out in crescendos and then bounces more gently away. Lol. I am deeply grateful for the blessings of family pouring forth. The love is there. RIP Dad. Love you!

FROM THE FAMILY
FROM THE FAMILY

My dad passed away Jan 6. He was a pure-hearted person, standing up and leaning in for people whenever there was a need. He was a hard person to know; he kept whatever was going on for him to himself and tightly managed his environment because he was a highly sensitive person. This could make him a growly bear, but he was also really a big teddy bear. And he was especially that for his granddaughter. I know he was very proud of her, and held affinity with her through knowing the challenges that come with being highly sensitive and exceptionally gifted. When she was first born, my mom was sharing how “Lola” was “grandmother” in the Philippines, and “Lolo” was “grandfather,” and my dad, a 6-foot veteran Marine and New Englander, protested, “Don’t call me ‘Lolo’! ... call me ‘Grumpy’!” And then laughed. He owned himself. Ha, and so she has a couple cards and email messages signed, “Love, Grumpy”. He was multi-talented— an artist, an engineer, a percussionist, though I never got to hear him play an actual drum, just whatever surface he had in front of him. He had a great voice, and you knew things were good when there was random bursting out in made-up song. He loved fishing and golfing and taking long drives. We were just as passionate as each other, just as stubborn as each other, and we had similar senses of humors. He taught me a lot. He told my mom before leaving that he would be there for us, and myself, brother, mother, and daughter are all experiencing knowings and synchronicities since his passing that have helped open paths where we were blocked as we sort through things. He’s definitely there. I do hear him in my mind’s ear, and I start talking with him. I hear his laughter. It’s something I have always held and connected to—it starts as a low rumble of thunder in his belly that builds and bursts out in crescendos and then bounces more gently away. Lol. I am deeply grateful for the blessings of family pouring forth. The love is there. RIP Dad. Love you!