Bob Rorabaugh
Ross Jacobus, long time model railroader, died on January 26, 2014 in Port Townsend, near three of his four daughters and their families.
Our Port Townsend NMRA guys rolled out a welcome carpet. John Colley in particular picked him up Wednesday evenings and took him to the club where, to the sound of running trains, Ross would sometimes drift off to dream a spell.
Ross had doted on two special wives, out-living both. He was loved by his girls, all four of them now in their fifties. The words they used of him: intelligent, curious, willing, humble, humorous, honorable, kind and “always there for us.” The memories of our North Seattle and Eastside clinicians include “always that smile,” “most awesome host with refreshments,” “willing to help or explain if asked,” and “crazy hair.”
He once asked this ol’ farm boy to prune his fruit trees, then paid me with a Bachmann HO Doodlebug. While pruning, I lost a spring from my small clippers and knew I’d never find it in the weeds and grass. Then, several Sundays later I noticed Ross walking through the church’s lobby with a spring in his step. Was that my spring? He just smiled at me.
Ross apparently didn’t “teach” his daughters the “what” he knew about loving God, spouse, family and work. Instead, he modeled the “who” he knew. He fleshed out many of the qualities of God’s relational love of His people. I asked his family to have a chat with their absent dad. “How do you like where you are now?” and “Would you mind if we leaned into the same heavenly Father’s love?” “Oh and tell our mom we’re coming, too.”
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