With a few edits for clarity, a few digital embeds, and a few hyperlinks added, this is the eulogy I offered for my grandfather, Harry Plows, who passed away on March 12, 2019 at 97. 

By now, you may have heard the big stories about our grandfather.

Five bronze stars and a Four Chaplains Legion of Honor from his military service in World War 2.

Thirty-five years as a small business owner.

Marching down the streets of Johnstown solo in his dress uniform, carrying a flag, until the Johnstown community remembered how important it was to acknowledge its veterans. 

Then leading his parade as its honorary Grand Marshall. 

 Army Harry Plows, 95, grand marshal of the Johnstown Veterans Day Parade, travels down Main Street on Friday, Nov. 11, 2016. Todd Berkey / tberkey@tribdem.com

From start to finish, my grandfather led a life that was inspired by service to his community, and by making choices that would benefit those around him.

But our family is lucky and grateful to carry all of the small stories of our grandfather with us, too.

And as we’ve been reflecting on those more intimate memories, the amazing thing is that even the stories of Harry that were not front-page worthy seem to have been guided by that same spirit of making the world just a little better because he was in it.

He gave us all our first haircuts, and taught us how to encourage others to share their stories while captive in a barber’s chair. Because of him, we have a family of good listeners.

He tried really hard to teach us to cook. His lessons didn’t stick with me, but my dad will carry on the secret ingredients in his chili. He taught us to sing, and dazzled us when he sang in his barbershop quartet, “The Inclinaires.” That lesson did stick with my sister, who has made her life in music.

He taught us all to laugh. I’m not sure you really knew my grandfather unless you knew what a flirt he was, or how he could turn just about anything into a slightly dirty joke. The nurses at James Van Zandt Veteran’s Hospital in Altoona certainly know all about these traits. We are so grateful to the staff there for supporting him, humoring him, and always treating him with respect and dignity.

He taught us all how to be generous and supportive in relationships. He traced the opening of every mall and big-box store in Johnstown by driving our grandmother there and sitting patiently in the car as she explored and shopped. They were a poetic dance in the kitchen, but he always let her take the lead, running to Giant Eagle for the last few bags of walnuts needed to finish her famous nut rolls. 

He showed us how to love by sitting by our grandmother’s side every day as she still managed our family from her hospital bed. Imagining the two of them catching up on heaven’s front porch has been one of the joyful thoughts that’s gotten us all through the last few days.

He’s inspired our family for our entire lives to lead GOOD lives,

lives where we choose to do the next right thing, 

lives where we measure our impact in how we make our communities just a little better with each choice.

Harry’s children, David and Mary, have continued to guide and support us in our grandfather’s spirit.

Each year, grandson Kevin and his family help to lead an event in Windber that keeps the memory of his brother Joseph alive, through fundraising for the local fire department, youth sports organizations and scholarships. 

His grandson Joseph made an impact through his work as a volunteer fireman. He left us too soon, but it’s almost too easy to imagine him giving his Pap a tour and introducing him to new friends.

Nichole teaches others to sing and perform, and shares her talent generously with community arts organizations and churches, where she performs as an organist.

I teach high school students. Often, when they encounter an obstacle, I encourage them to be persistent by sharing a story of a man who marched solo down the streets for years.

At his blessing at the funeral home, Deacon Sam Cammarata shared that Harry was not a spectator in life.

Not to contradict a deacon— but our grandfather was the best spectator for his grandchildren and great-grandchild, McCoy, cheering us on from the sidelines (and later from a motorized wheelchair) without ever forcing us down a particular path. Our grandfather had confidence in the example he’d set for us. Even when we stumbled along our paths, he’s always believed in us and remained our biggest fan.

Harry Plows was part of the Greatest Generation. But because of him, our family’s generation has also been pretty great, as we spend our lives trying to fill some big, military uniform-shined shoes. 

Our family is so grateful to all of you for sharing Harry’s life, and for keeping his stubbornness, passion, humor, and incredible life story alive. We hope that your lives are as blessed as ours have been because of the influence of our grandfather.