Obituary

Maj. Roy E. Tipton

December 28, 2009

Roy E. Tipton, age 87 of Hillsdale. A lifelong learner, teacher and unabashed idealist, Roy Tipton will be remembered for his steadfast loyalty to his friends, family and country. He was born August 19, 1922 in Madison County Kentucky to Roy and Mary Willie (Fielder) Tipton. He began his professional life as a soldier, enlisting in the army in 1939. After a brief, 12-day training period was “turned to duty” as a private in the 10th Infantry. After being stationed at Fort Custer, Michigan he was deployed to Iceland in 1941 where, having been promoted to sergeant, he served until he was accepted to Officer Candidate School in December of 1942.

On April 17, 1943 he graduated from OCS and was commissioned a second lieutenant. This accomplishment was particularly notable since he had not yet completed his high school education. He was eventually assigned to the 351st Infantry Regiment of the 88th Division in May of 1944 and participated in the liberation of Italy from the Nazi invasion. In July of the same year he assumed command of L Company during the battle of Laiatico. After the two other rifle companies of the 3rd Battalion had been rendered incapable of combat by the enemy he led his company in a night attack resulting in the capture of over 200 German soldiers without a single casualty to his men. This action decided the battle and the 3rd Battalion was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation for its outstanding performance – the equivalent of every man in the unit receiving the Distinguished Service Cross.

Eventually attaining the rank of major, he served in the Korean Military Advisory Group during the Korean War and was commander of Fulda Post, Germany from January 1957 to August 1958. After a career that spanned 20 years he retired from active military duty on October 31, 1959 at Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana.

In 1963 he graduated from Western Michigan University with a masters degree in guidance and counseling. He later settled in Hillsdale, Michigan where he served as high school guidance counselor from 1966 to 1976 and was a well-known fixture in the community for the remainder of his life. An avid barbershop singer and 35-year member of the Barbershop Harmony Society he sang with the Hudson, Coldwater and Jackson chapters before helping to found the Hillsdale chapter.

He is survived by Frances (Ford) Tipton, his wife of 43 years; Three children: Sharon Tipton of Kalamazoo; David (Ellen) Tipton of Battle Creek; and Matthew (Josie) Tipton of Sterling Heights; Seven granddaughters: Arrow Tipton; Erin Tipton; Emily (Ian) Bobinac; Sara Tipton; Abigail Tipton; Gwendolyn Tipton; and Meredith Tipton; two great-granddaughters and a great-grandson; A brother: Lemuel Ray (Jean) Tipton of Dry Ridge, Kentucky; A beloved niece: Jean Ann (Mark) Powell of Walton, Kentucky; two grand-nieces: Rachel and Ashlynn Powell. He was preceded in death by a son: Michael (Denise) Tipton (2009); and a brother: Denville Tipton (1945).

Funeral services for Roy Tipton will be Monday, January 4, 2010 at 11:00 am at the VanHorn-Eagle Funeral Home in Hillsdale with Pastor Ned Wyse officiating. Interment with full military honors will take place at Fort Custer National Cemetery in Augusta, Michigan on Monday at 2:30 pm. The family will receive friends for visitation Sunday from noon to 4:00 pm and 6:00 to 8:00 pm at the VanHorn-Eagle Funeral Home. The Hillsdale Town & Country barbershop chorus will pay a musical tribute at 7:00 pm.

Suggested memorials include Hospice of Hillsdale, the Hillsdale Town and Country Chorus and Harmony Foundation.

Click Here for a map of all service locations

Eternity

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

My dad had several subjects - entire classes - he could just teach at the drop of a proverbial hat. One such class he called "Critical Thinking." He taught students in this course to examine some typical scenarios and concepts more deeply than they might otherwise be asked to do. Eternity, he taught, along with infinity, are concepts that are beyond the ability of the human brain to truly understand.

He would ask his students to hold up one hand and imagine that they were grasping the end of a string. The students were then to envision this string as it went from their fingertips, out the window and then on for infinity. Picture in their minds, they were asked, the entirety of this string. The futility of this exercise shows that while the brain can acknowledge the existence of infinity, it cannot truly comprehend it.

The same is true for eternity. As the mind travels backward or forward in time events are preceded and succeeded by other events but there is no way to grasp the totality of time, only periods of it. Consider that, as the instructor, he was quite a bit older than anyone else in the room and presumably would die many years before any of the students. But no matter how many years he or anyone would die before anyone else, everyone in the room would spend the same amount of time being dead - eternity.

At 10:14 pm on December 28, 2009 Roy E. Tipton became eternal. Forty-one years, one day, five hours and thirteen minutes. That was the amount of time I shared on Earth with my dad. That time has shaped and will continue to shape the rest of my living years - I suspect in some ways I haven't even considered. The last 84 days of that time have been spent making sure that he would be able to pass from this life in a dignified manner of his choosing in as much comfort as possible. We never suspected it would take this long or that the journey would lead us to some of the places it did. But, as I learned in another course of study with my father, a good plan is one that does not have to be adhered to with absolute rigidity to be a success. So, while not all events in this time were anticipated or even desired, we have stayed devoted to those things that made him comfortable in the life he had remaining. His passing was as peaceful as any of us could imagine and we were at his side until the very end. Mission accomplished.

The Hard Part

Monday, December 28, 2009

There is very little change to report since my last update yesterday. But that is telling in itself. Since the fever subsided it has not returned. But neither has Roy and, frankly, we don't expect him to. It is difficult to describe the state he is now in. Not quite asleep, not quite awake. Not totally unconscious but certainly not relating to his surroundings if he is aware of them at all. As the hours pass, however, he seems to slip little by little away from the present.

My mom has said a number of times that all that is left is the hard part. Hard for us more than him really. If you ask me we are doing a pretty good job of keeping him comfortable. His lungs are getting less efficient at processing the oxygen, however, and we can hear the fluid starting to build up in them. Comfortable is relative here.

It seems clear that we are witnessing his final hours. There is no way to know how many or few they are. But the signs say that hours are the appropriate unit of measure.

Developments

Sunday, December 27, 2009

I have not offered an update in several weeks now. As my last post stated, we had settled into a routine that redefined normal. It seemed pointless and maybe even a bit self-serving to continue posting updates on a condition that wasn’t changing. Surely we have had good days and bad since then - days without waking up, nights without sleep, days of coming out into his recliner, visiting with company and spouting gibberish as if we all could understand what "exploding pasta" and other such nonsense meant. And, to be frank, I am not of the "twitter" generation. I find sharing the detail of every little experience diminishes those experiences rather than enhancing them. Please excuse the fact that not posting updates was mostly for selfish reasons. As of today that has changed.

Our holidays have passed largely as they would have any other year. Granted, they aren’t over and it now seems that the remainder of the holiday season will not be the same - though it is hard to know what will happen from one minute to the next. But I have an odd feeling of pride that so far we have been able to gather in much the same way as usual and find meaningful ways of including my dad in the experience. On Christmas day he was able to spend quite a bit of time out of his bed, even opening a couple of gifts and having a bit of Christmas dinner in his recliner near the rest of us at the table. 11 weeks ago, as we were preparing to check out of Borgess hospital, my sister said "Who knows? Maybe Roy will pull one more rabbit out of his hat." That seemed utterly impossible - maybe even undesirable since a meaningful recovery was not even being attempted. We brought him home that night and began plans for a funeral.  We prepared our hearts for a holiday season without him. But this Christmas we got a rabbit instead.

It was understandable that the day after Christmas he was "wiped out." But he was a bit out of sorts as this new normal has defined them. My mom kept saying, "He hasn’t been like this before." But he has been like this before - when he was in and coming home from the hospital; when he was actively dying. By nightfall he started to show signs of a fever. A cold compress kept him comfortable for the most part and we got some Tylenol in him. That was a bit difficult because even though he was awake he was not completely responsive. When instructed to open his mouth he would clench his teeth instead out of confusion. That made taking his temperature impossible. My mom wanted to call a hospice nurse but it was midnight and we really seemed to be doing OK on our own. No sense, I thought, in waking someone. By 1:00 AM we finally decided to get an axial temperature. Even if it wasn’t accurate we could establish a baseline that would let us know if he were getting better or worse - 103.2! We called the nurse.

A couple of hours, a nurse visit and several cold compresses later we had his temperature down to a mere 100.8. It is hard to know even now what we are dealing with. I suspect pneumonia even though his lungs seemed clear to the nurse. He has survived his last two or three bouts of pneumonia by seeking treatment before even X-rays showed a problem. The questions right now outnumber the answers ten to one. That isn’t unusual for us these days but I can’t honestly say we are used to it. What I do know is that for the last few years when he gets this sick it is a dire situation. Part of my brain is saying, "Here we go." The other part is asking, "Going where?"