Franklin Leroy Jolly

September 27, 1927 - November 5, 2017

He is survived by his children Ron (Karen) Jolly and Terri Baldwin, grandchildren Lara Jolly and Joel (Holly) Jolly and great-grandchildren Kendrick and Marlee Jolly. Mr. Jolly was preceded in death by his beloved wife Wilma, son-in-law Kirk Baldwin and brother Jim Jolly.

Visitation will be on Mon. 11/13 from 4-6pm with services at 2:00pm, Tues.11/14, with burial to follow, all at Olinger Crown Hill.

In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations be made to the American Diabetes Association.

P.O. Box 15829, Arlington, VA 22215.

To follow is the eulogy that was penned by his daughter Terri:

Eulogy for Franklin Leroy Jolly

Franklin Leroy Jolly was born on September 27, 1927. He was born in the back bedroom of a house that was literally 3 blocks from the house that Ron and I grew up in. He attended Columbian Elementary School, Skinner Junior High and North High School.

His childhood was very hard. He was sick from the beginning. He was born with one eye crossed and had three eye surgeries, at a young age, to correct it. Unfortunately those surgeries left him with very little sight in one eye. He also had rheumatic fever and a burst appendix. At the age of ten, he was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis which caused him joint pain literally for years. He always said all he remembered of his childhood was going to school, coming home and going to bed, day after day after day, because he felt so bad. Consequently, he was unable to participate in extra-curricular activities like other kids. I’ve often thought what a lonely childhood that must’ve been.

He was drafted toward the end of World War II. He was in the Army. He was a cryptographer and worked at the Pentagon. He didn’t like it much and could tell you exactly how many months and days he served in the Army. I think it sounds like it was a fascinating job. Later I think he kind of wished he’d stayed in because he would have liked the pension benefits.

He met my mom, Wilma Evans, and they were married June 10, 1951.

He was the first person in his family to go to college. He put himself through college by going to night school while working full time during the days. He attended the Colorado School of Mines and graduated from Denver University with a degree in Accounting.

He worked in the Property Accounting department for Public Service Company.

Ron was born in 1957, followed by Terri in 1959.

He swore that he didn’t want his kids to have to work their way through college like he did, so he saved money while Ronnie and I were growing up. He bought savings bonds with every paycheck and by the time we graduated from High School he had enough to put both of us through college. He was very proud of that. Neither of us had to spend a cent of our own money for our education.

I think his very identity was tied to what he was able to provide for his family. Once he and my mom were married, she, who grew up very poor, never had to worry about where her next meal might come from. He was a good provider and I know she was thankful for the stability that he offered her. He offered that stability to his sister-in-law, Jean, when he bought the house that she lives in, in Berthoud, allowing her to live there for the rest of her life. He was proud that he saved money and invested wisely and would have some left for Ronnie and me to inherit.

Ronnie took piano lessons from age 7 through high school and when one teacher had no more they could teach him, Dad found another teacher who was more advanced to teach him more. I took flute lessons, baton lessons, dancing lessons and gymnastics lessons. Whatever we wanted to learn, he made sure that lessons were available to us.

He was so proud of how talented and accomplished my brother is. He just beamed when anyone would complement Ronnie on his musical abilities.

And he taught us, by example, a good work ethic. You go to work and do the best job you can every day. He retired in 1986, having been employed at Public Service Company for 35 years. One thing that was a great thing resulted from his retirement. He started to feel better. I remember there were nights while he was working, when his shoulder would be bothering him from his arthritis. He’d sit up literally all night with a heat lamp pointing at his shoulder. Anyway, once the stress of the job was gone, gradually, over the years he felt better.

One thing my dad loved was his family. He would fiercely defend us if he thought someone was selling us short. There isn’t one of us to whom he wouldn’t have literally given the shirt off his back if we needed it. And my dad had several close friends that he cared for deeply. Many of his contemporaries have preceded him in death but he talked fondly about his friends that are still here, as well as those that he had loved and lost.

He had a beautiful singing voice. When we were young he used to sing us to sleep at night. He sang “Bye, Bye Blackbird”, “Lullaby of Broadway” and tunes like that. They were great lullabies for sure.

He seemed so strong. I can remember how he used to hang on to my arm to get me through those revolving barrels in the Fun House at Lakeside. It wasn’t until years and years later that I realized that he was just a mortal man and not super-human.

Growing up we did a lot of camping. We’d all sleep in a camper. The first camper was one that my dad built. We had a lot of fun on those camping trips. Ronnie and I had big rocks that we’d climb on and the men fished while we women held down the fort. Later, after Kirk and I were married we took up camping again. We went a couple of times each summer for quite a few years. Again the men fished, usually early in the morning, and mom and I got to sleep in. If the fishing was successful, Kirk would make us up a delicious feast of trout cooked with bacon and onions and we’d play cards or other games for hours on end. About ninety percent of the time it poured rain. Nevertheless, a good time was had by all.

When I got my driver’s license, my dad used to make me help him change the oil and change and rotate the tires on my car. It wasn’t until I had a flat that I really understood why he had done that. Keeping In mind that these were the days before cell phones, I was able to change my tire with absolutely no problem. When I realized why he had taught me to do those things I was grateful. I had not been stranded and needing help. I was able to take care of it by relying on no one but myself.

When I was in college up at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, my dad called me every morning at 7:00 a.m. to check on me and to tell me to have a good day. I had forgotten that, until my roommate from then reminded me of it the other day. She said how nice she thought it was for him to do that for me.

We grew up, Ron and I, in a house over on Meade Street close to the old Elitches Amusement Park. Dad added on the greatest patio ever built. It faced east, so it was cool in the afternoons and it had the smoothest concrete – perfect for playing jacks, which is one of the things I was really into at the time. Dad loved the patio. I remember he liked to sit out there on the glider, especially when there was a bad thunderstorm, because he loved to watch the lightning show.

One of my dad’s favorite things was the Flea Market. Put aside his occasionally colorful language and it was really his only vice. First he went to the Bonanza Flea Market and then when it closed, he went out to the Mile Hi Flea Market. He went out weekly, usually on Saturdays, first thing in the morning. He purchased produce among other things. If you remember the old Mile Hi commercials then you’ll know what I mean when I say that my dad was one of the “over-stuffed.” He had a lot of stuff and kept buying more stuff as though he was one of the “under-stuffed.” I think his motto was: if one is good then five is better. He got some great stuff out there and he truly enjoyed buying things for everyone he knew. He’d see something and think that someone in particular would like it, he’d buy it and return home to present it to them with all the joy of a little kid in a candy store. I know he hated to give up going out there when he gave up driving. Now, Ron and I will have the… um…pleasure(???) of going through all that stuff. Wish us luck.

He was involved in Junior Achievement for a few years and mentored kids through that program. They made things: games, serving trays and the like, and sold them, which taught them a bit about being an entrepreneur. It always seemed like he knew how to do pretty much anything. He was a jack of all trades and a master of many.

He was involved, like all of my family, in Bowen’s Fanfare USO. We took variety shows to skilled nursing facilities, military bases, military hospitals and the like. My dad emceed every show and he was good at it. Ronnie played the piano. I did a variety of things over the years. We were involved in putting on somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 shows over about a ten or twelve year time frame.

My dad was also awarded as an Envoy Member of Beta Sigma Phi. That is the sorority that my mom and I are members of. Over the fifty-some years that mom was a member, he participated in many of their activities and service projects. He purchased used wheel chairs and refurbished them for the chapter to donate to nursing facilities. He also pitched in on anything else that the chapter needed help with. Envoy membership is an award for the men, in appreciation of their assistance, outstanding devotion and untiring efforts with regard to the activities of the women in Beta Sigma Phi.

At the time of mom’s death in 2015, they had been married exactly 64 years and one month. They cherished each other and were devoted to each other right up until the time of her death. After her death, I think he sort of lost his purpose in life and with it, most of his will to live.

In the past years, living out in Arvada, the patio is often where he could be found. He’d sit out there for hours and hours admiring the beautiful Colorado days and being grateful that this is where he lived.

My family and I would like to thank my dad’s neighbors. You folks know who you are. You have been wonderful! You provided him with companionship and food and, in general, you all looked out for his safety and welfare. We owe you a debt of gratitude that cannot be repaid. Thank you so much!

My dad had a unique way with words. He told some corny jokes that he thought were funny and he’d tell them over every time you saw him. I also remember that growing up our phone number was one number different than the Boulder number for Public Service. So, we got a lot of wrong number phone calls – people trying to reach them instead of us. I was always amused because when they’d get the wrong number he’d tell them that they “slipped their digit.” That’s a phrase that I have never, ever heard another person use. Another thing that my dad always said was “Good Morning.” I didn’t matter what time of the day it was, “Good Morning” was the greeting.

In the days leading up to his death he was hit with many health issues. He fell and hit his head resulting in two brain bleeds. Added to that he had a urinary tract infection, soaring lab test results and renal failure. It was like the perfect storm. He wasn’t strong enough to fight it. I don’t know if you are aware or not, but urinary tract infections in elderly people can present in confusion, agitation, extreme discomfort, an inability to clearly communicate as well as other symptoms of being mentally altered. In the days leading up to my dad’s death, he showed all of those. He was extremely agitated, was unable to communicate and he didn’t want to be covered. I had visions of him leaving this world exactly the way he came in. Naked as a jay bird.

In the end, he was under the care of Collier Hospice. They are wonderful people and they took good care of him. They calmed him down and erased his pain and his agitation so that he could rest comfortably.

In the last three years, since I’ve retired, I spent a lot of time with my dad. It’s true what they say, that the child becomes the parent and the parent becomes the child. My dad was a stubborn and opinionated man as most of you know. We had good days and bad days partly because he was a stubborn and opinionated man and partly… because I think I’m just like him. Nevertheless, I don’t regret a minute and he really did become one of my best friends and confidants. Though he’s only been gone just a short time, already I’m missing him more than I could’ve imagined. I know that with the passing of time the feelings of grief will become less intense. I learned that the hard way. Right now, there’s only one thing I can tell your for sure, and that is that I wish I could hear him say “Good Morning” just one more time.