He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has enjoyed the trust of pure women; the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled his niche, and accomplished his task; who has left the world a better place than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of Earth's beauty, or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best he had; whose life was an inspiration, whose memory a benediction.

--Bessie Anderson, 1904

     On August 5, 1924, on a kitchen table in Fair Haven, a baby boy was born to Dan and Gertrude Shine. Earlier this week, that life ended in a hospital bed, just a couple of miles away from the place of his birth. While the beginning and the end of that life weren't so remarkable, the life he lived in between certainly was.

     Bob Shine and his generation grew up with the harshness of the Great Depression. My generation can scarcely imagine what it was like to grow up in such hard times, and then become of age only to be called off to the deadly realities of World War II. Dad answered that call, and was sent to Europe as an infantryman in a rifle company.

     Before he had turned twenty-one, the war was over, and he was one of about ten surviving original men in his company. It was thought by some of his infantry buddies that he lived a charmed life, because of his reputation for survival in some very close scrapes. Indeed he never got so much as a scratch in combat.

     He was always proud of his time in the service; indeed he saw his contributions there as his part in a holy war to make life better for peoples in faraway nations.

     Dad came home a decorated veteran, began his college education, and married his girl, Muriel. Over the years, they raised four children and became grandparents to six grandchildren. And he took pride in all of them.

     Dad brought to his family a love for travel, a curiosity about world events, an appreciation of history, and nature, and music. He was a dedicated provider who was troubled that there wasn't enough time to do all of the fatherly things he wanted to do. As a child, I can recall that the old combat veteran was a very gentle father, and could almost never bring himself to administer a spanking, no matter how richly deserved it was.

     More than tell us how to live, dad showed us how to live; and he was a wonderful inspiration and example.

     As the years went by, dad, now retired, had more and more time for his family; and he spent a great many of his days at our house, helping me in my office, helping Joanne with the daycare babies, always looking for ways to assist wherever he went. In his late seventies, he even enjoyed his opportunities to work with Danny's landscaping business; indeed, to this day the customers still ask for him. And the daycare children still refer to him as "grandpa".

     I enjoyed our time together--he, my son and I--as three generations of deacons in this church. I think we all got a kick out of confusing everyone, with the fact that the church now had three Deacon Dan Shines, and leaving them to wonder who was doing what, when. The Founders Day event last spring was a proud moment for all of us, standing together there beneath the steeple in our Revolutionary costumes.

     Dad was always the type to volunteer his help to others in his church and in his community. Upon his retirement, he immediately went to work at the VA hospital, where he volunteered a considerable amount of time in their engineering department. As church historian, he spent countless hours researching the rich history of our church, and writing numerous articles about the things he felt were important and interesting.

     Like a good grandpa, he worked with my sons and others on their Boy Scout merit badges: Environmental Science, Stamp Collecting, Coin Collecting, Genealogy.

     In later years, and despite his advancing years, we took dad camping on the Appalachian Trail whenever we could. I have some great memories of sitting by campfires at night with dad and my sons. He would tell us the old stories, and take the opportunity to teach us Irish drinking songs that as a boy he had learned from his father and his uncle. As recently as this summer, he and I had our campfire time together; future campfires will be a lonely place without him.

     The end came rather unexpectedly; I had somehow thought that dad would continue to enjoy the luck of the Irish, and one day return home from his long stay at the hospital. But on Sunday afternoon, the gentle warrior, the unassuming deacon, the loving father and grandfather decided he was ready to go and meet his Maker, "…if he'll have me", he said. Ever humble was he, even unto the end.

     In closing, I'd like to share a piece of scripture which is appropriate to this moment. It is from Psalm 103:

     As for mankind, his days are like the grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children, to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments.

     Dad sleeps today the sleep of the just, in the arms of the Lord; let us celebrate his life.