• Profetta Funeral Chapel - Webster
    Webster, NY
Brought to you by
Ambrose J. Ryan 1928 - 2014

Ambrose J. Ryan

This Guest Book has been kept online by His Loving Family.
March 26, 2014
Greg - your eulogy was moving beyond belief. I had no idea that your Dad was dealing with PD. As a retired Professor of Neurology at Yale, I can fully understand the strength and courage it took to deal with everyday existence. I don't know if you were aware that in the early 60s, your Dad was our Biology professor. As I've already stated, he was unparalleled and I am not the least bit surprised by those aspects of his life, that you so eloquently detailed, that most of his former students would be unaware of. Over the years, I have thought of him often. He was inspirational, not just as a professor, but as a truly wonderful man. We were all so fortunate to have had him bless our lives.
March 26, 2014
Dear Peggy,
My heart goes out to you and your family
for your loss. I have not seen Amby in so
long, but I still remember Joanie, and I
sitting at the kitchen table and Amby helping us with science. He was such a
great guy. My prayers are with you all.
March 23, 2014
Eulogy for My Dad Ambrose Joseph Ryan

My father never complained. Not once during the 26 years of Parkinson's Disease eating away at his body did any of us hear him say, “Why me God? Why did you do this to me?” It started out slowly with some problems with his balance. I remember I used to go golfing with him and 10 years into the disease for the first time in my life I got to drive in a golf cart. (Prior to that he always insisted we walk with a pull cart). His decline was slow, but relentless. One year we could pull up to the ball and hit mostly terrible shots, but he would never fall and the next year he could not take a swing without tumbling to the ground. The next year he couldn't even go which made me sad, but he never complained. He was fiercely independent and wanted to walk himself or use his walker instead of using a wheelchair. We were in Ohio visiting Uncle Bob and Aunt Virg and took a side trip to the Cleveland Science Museum. He wanted to walk, but it was taking so long we insisted he take a wheelchair. Actually it started out great. In a wheelchair we could get him from place to place at a reasonable speed. He still used the walker at home for years, but gradually became more and more dependent on the wheelchair. The saddest part of this for me is not losing my father, but the fact that many of you only knew him as the frail old man in the wheelchair who we brought to so many soccer and basketball games. My father was so much more.
To the community he was a teacher. He taught every kid in Batavia who took chemistry from 1956 to 1991. He remembered every student and would recognize them, greet them by name and even remember where they sat in class even if he was meeting them 30 or 40 years later. He was a football coach. I never understood why school got out at 3pm, but my Dad never got home until 6pm until I started playing sports myself. He mostly coached freshman football for Batavia, but he also managed to coach 1 or 2 of my Little League Baseball teams and a YMCA Basketball team.
To the Village of Elba he was a volunteer Fireman who helped put out many a fire, worked at every Field day and played a mean short stop for the softball team. He served as trustee and then as Mayor of Elba for eight years which had many perks such as checking the chemicals at the sewer plant on Sundays (the fish were always biting) and being the Chief of Police for a non-existent police force (at least we got magazines with lots of cool guns and handcuffs and stuff).
He was a singer for many years with the Elba Elegants contributing his golden baritone voice to “Elba USA” at the sesquicentennial and a stand out male voice in the Our Lady of Fatima Church choir. Nothing said Christmas like a midnight mass with Dad and the Church Choir bellowing out “Fall on Your Knees” and the whole congregation thudding loudly as they fell down onto the kneelers.
He was a backyard touch football player with surprising speed for an old man in his 40's. A driveway basketball player with a decent jump shot, but usually would pass off to the open 10 year old who would heave it over the back board. He was a seal barking at night in our back yard pool. A pool which was always green and cloudy. Why a chemistry teacher could never keep the pool water clear I never fully understood. Some say he didn't want to expose us to too many chemicals and others said he was just cheap. We didn't care though, we loved it cloudy because we could hide and sneak up on each other when we played sharks. He was a renaissance man who from his days as a boy growing up during the depression and working on a farm could fix anything or build anything. Anything from plumbing to electrical work to carpentry he could do it. (Well pretty good anyway. There were times when in the Immortal words of Andy Griffith we would say “Aunt Bea. Call the man”.) He was a card player who taught us Poker, rummy and Tripoli and was a great Bridge player.
A loving husband (kept alive at; least for 5-10 years beyond what he would have lasted without his private nurse my mother), a dedicated father, a gentle, happy man. That was my father. He played bridge past the point when he could no longer hold onto the cards (my mother would hold them for him) until he could no longer see them. He continued to sing beyond the point when you could understand him talk and on the afternoon before he died after Laura his aid and I hoisted him into his electric recliner chair with a Hoyer lift, he tapped his feet and danced a jig to the Irish Rovers. Within a few hours he was dancing and singing for real with the many friends and relatives who were waiting to greet him at the gates of heaven.

Greg Ryan (3/18/2014)
March 23, 2014
Eulogy for My Dad Ambrose Joseph Ryan

My father never complained. Not once during the 26 years of Parkinson's Disease eating away at his body did any of us hear him say, “Why me God? Why did you do this to me?” It started out slowly with some problems with his balance. I remember I used to go golfing with him and 10 years into the disease for the first time in my life I got to drive in a golf cart. (Prior to that he always insisted we walk with a pull cart). His decline was slow, but relentless. One year we could pull up to the ball and hit mostly terrible shots, but he would never fall and the next year he could not take a swing without tumbling to the ground. The next year he couldn't even go which made me sad, but he never complained. He was fiercely independent and wanted to walk himself or use his walker instead of using a wheelchair. We were in Ohio visiting Uncle Bob and Aunt Virg and took a side trip to the Cleveland Science Museum. He wanted to walk, but it was taking so long we insisted he take a wheelchair. Actually it started out great. In a wheelchair we could get him from place to place at a reasonable speed. He still used the walker at home for years, but gradually became more and more dependent on the wheelchair. The saddest part of this for me is not losing my father, but the fact that many of you only knew him as the frail old man in the wheelchair who we brought to so many soccer and basketball games. My father was so much more.
To the community he was a teacher. He taught every kid in Batavia who took chemistry from 1956 to 1991. He remembered every student and would recognize them, greet them by name and even remember where they sat in class even if he was meeting them 30 or 40 years later. He was a football coach. I never understood why school got out at 3pm, but my Dad never got home until 6pm until I started playing sports myself. He mostly coached freshman football for Batavia, but he also managed to coach 1 or 2 of my Little League Baseball teams and a YMCA Basketball team.
To the Village of Elba he was a volunteer Fireman who helped put out many a fire, worked at every Field day and played a mean short stop for the softball team. He served as trustee and then as Mayor of Elba for eight years which had many perks such as checking the chemicals at the sewer plant on Sundays (the fish were always biting) and being the Chief of Police for a non-existent police force (at least we got magazines with lots of cool guns and handcuffs and stuff).
He was a singer for many years with the Elba Elegants contributing his golden baritone voice to “Elba USA” at the sesquicentennial and a stand out male voice in the Our Lady of Fatima Church choir. Nothing said Christmas like a midnight mass with Dad and the Church Choir bellowing out “Fall on Your Knees” and the whole congregation thudding loudly as they fell down onto the kneelers.
He was a backyard touch football player with surprising speed for an old man in his 40's. A driveway basketball player with a decent jump shot, but usually would pass off to the open 10 year old who would heave it over the back board. He was a seal barking at night in our back yard pool. A pool which was always green and cloudy. Why a chemistry teacher could never keep the pool water clear I never fully understood. Some say he didn't want to expose us to too many chemicals and others said he was just cheap. We didn't care though, we loved it cloudy because we could hide and sneak up on each other when we played sharks. He was a renaissance man who from his days as a boy growing up during the depression and working on a farm could fix anything or build anything. Anything from plumbing to electrical work to carpentry he could do it. (Well pretty good anyway. There were times when in the Immortal words of Andy Griffith we would say “Aunt Bea. Call the man”.) He was a card player who taught us Poker, rummy and Tripoli and was a great Bridge player.
A loving husband (kept alive at; least for 5-10 years beyond what he would have lasted without his private nurse my mother), a dedicated father, a gentle, happy man. That was my father. He played bridge past the point when he could no longer hold onto the cards (my mother would hold them for him) until he could no longer see them. He continued to sing beyond the point when you could understand him talk and on the afternoon before he died after Laura his aid and I hoisted him into his electric recliner chair with a Hoyer lift, he tapped his feet and danced a jig to the Irish Rovers. Within a few hours he was dancing and singing for real with the many friends and relatives who were waiting to greet him at the gates of heaven.

Greg Ryan (3/18/2014)
March 20, 2014
Greg, Marianm Ambrose, Martin & Deaglan,

We will all miss seeing your Dad/Grandpa at the soccer games. He will definitely be there in spirit, and the next goal you score, know that he helped!
Related Memorial Sites

Guest Book Photos

Austin, Texas 2012 with the Texas Ryans

Honor the memory of your loved one

Hold on to the beautiful thoughts and memories shared by friends and loved ones with a full color, professionally printed and bound keepsake.
Create a lasting legacy with a memorial website.
©2018 Legacy.com. All rights reserved. Guest Book entries are free and are posted after being reviewed for appropriate content. If you find an entry containing inappropriate material, please contact us.