Dad’s Memorial Service...

It’s difficult for me to write this entry as I was truly hurt that Ann told me not to come to Dad’s Memorial Service, which she hosted in their backyard for family and his closest friends. In order to have a presence beyond the girls’ attendance, I asked Veronica to read the following speech (sorry, it’s a bit long compared to my usual blog entries):

Hi, my name is Veronica and I grew up in North Carolina and the Netherlands. My mother, Melissa, is Joel’s oldest daughter and is currently in the Netherlands. She unfortunately wasn’t able to be here, so she asked me to say a few words on her behalf:

I’m not very good at giving speeches, so consider yourselves lucky that my daughter is delivering this instead. There’s so much that I could say about my father but if I have to sum it up, I need to thank him for gifting me with my goofy sense of humor and broadening my horizons by introducing me to world travel. I am very proud to be his daughter.

Not only a first generation American, he was the first in his family to attend college. While at MIT working on his bachelor’s degree in electrical engineering, Dad had a summer job that allowed him to work on his senior thesis. So while the other students were struggling with their topics, he was getting paid $1.75/hour to work on his. Apparently there were PhD students that were unable to solve the problem that his amplifier solved and they were shocked to learn his plan was successful.

According to Tim Jackson in the book Inside Intel, Dad was a rebel:

Political radicalism was not dead inside Intel. Its leading exponent was a gifted young circuit designer by the name of Joel Karp. With bell-bottoms and long hair, Karp was willing to risk the consternation of his employers by carrying anti-Vietnam petitions around Intel parties.

Karp displayed a wonderful ability to wind up his more conventional colleagues. On one occasion, a new sales executive bumped into him as he was about to leave the office for a technical meeting with a client. The shocked sales chief took one look at Karp's shoulder-length hair and ordered him to get it cut before attending the meeting. The following day, Karp reappeared in the office with his hair blow-dried and styled with great skill, but only one-eighth of an inch shorter than the day before. There was silence from his colleagues as Karp walked down the lab, informed the sales chief with a smile that he was going to claim the haircut as a business expense, and presented him with a receipt for the then astounding sum of $25.

Just for the record, Dad was not a great-grandfather, but rather a great grandfather. He thoroughly embraced the idea of me becoming a mother and adored both of my daughters from the first moment he held them—definitely the best gifts I ever gave him! Once the girls were old enough, Dad and Ann would host them by themselves for at least two weeks on the years that the four of us didn’t visit together. Those visits helped to cement their relationships with their grandparents while also contributing to their adventurous natures. Veronica is here today after just completing a 10-day back country camping trip at various state parks between San Diego and Lake Tahoe, while Ashlynn just spent six weeks in Namibia helping with a dolphin research project.

One of my funniest memories of Dad was when he was a guest reader for Ashlynn’s 1st grade class in The Hague. He really hammed it up while reading The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs. He took on the persona of the wolf and by the end of the book had the kids in such a frenzy that Mrs. Cross was truly cross. Dad was pretty excited that he’d be remembered as the grandpa who nearly started a riot. Following on his comedic reading, he starred along with Ann and the girls in two backyard plays in this garden. During our visit in August 2007, ten-year-old Veronica adapted Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night with each star playing at least two parts. Dad especially embraced his role of Sir Toby Belch—you can imagine what he did to live up to that title. Two summers later, he was hilarious playing the mother in Travel to the Future, an original play by the girls.

Beyond his comedic abilities, as you know, Dad was a gifted jazz musician, playing the trombone and piano since childhood. As a family we all enjoyed watching him play with local bands when we visited and loved when he’d play a solo or managed to get a song dedicated to us. We especially loved when he would play 76 Trombones as he marched the girls to sleep. I have very fond memories of meeting up with him and Ann in Paris in 2015 when he was on tour with the Stanford Jazz Band. What a cool experience to watch your father play in a Parisian jazz club.

While I never embraced his love of jazz, his lasting impact on my musical tastes was actually through his love of rock during what I affectionately recall as his hippie phase in the late 60s and early 70s. I have fond memories of going to outdoor rock concerts as a kid with Dad at Stanford University. I can’t remember which bands we saw, but I do remember dancing for hours. When I was 12, he took me to see the movie of The Who’s rock opera Tommy on University Avenue in Palo Alto. A group of my classmates had gone to see it and had run out of the theater in disgust when baked beans came out of a TV, but despite how bizarre it was, I loved it; there’s no doubt that I got my warped sense of humor from Dad—although I draw the line at his love for South Park and Trailer Park Boys.

Thanks for letting me share these few memories. There’s no doubt that Dad will be missed by us all. 

Part way through Veronica got too choked up to continue, so Ashlynn took over. Once she got too choked up, my sister Eden continued until Veronica regained her composure and could finish the speech. They said the Memorial was very touching with everyone sharing favorite memories. I’m sad I wasn’t there, but glad Dad had a good send-off.