Jeffrey L. Klinker

Jeffrey L. Klinker

To my dad, we miss you.

June 12, 1947~February 12, 2011

He was obsessed with having a perfect lawn. He would achieve the perfect lawn every couple of years and would then dig it up to grow an even more perfect lawn. This always coincided with a new lawn mower, which, if said new lawn mower wouldn't start within 3 pulls of the starter cord, he would return to Sears for a generally more expensive model. His current lawn mower starts with a key, on the first try.

He was a hermit who befriended postal carriers while passing time smoking his long brown cigarettes on the front porch waiting for bills he would then curse about.

He always worried about his family and his friends. Dad never wanted help, but was the first to lend a hand.

He was our Dad, who had a great sense of humor, had a tan in the midst of a 9 month Northwest winter, who smoked bad menthol cigarettes, drank black Russians, watched reruns on the USA network despite paying for every cable TV station known to man, and most importantly, loved his kids, grandkids, friends and family more than anything else in the world.

Published in The Seattle Times from Feb. 11 to Feb. 12, 2013