Gerald Raymond Hamann

Gerald Raymond 'Gerry' Hamann
December 30, 1927 - June 4, 2021
El Cajon

Gerry Hamann always rose before dawn. Always.

Long before the sun lit the sky, Gerry sipped coffee, scanned the classified ads and embraced each new day with an energy and purpose few could match. At age 93a few hours before sunrisehe died peacefully in his own home, family at his side.

Born in Nelson, British Columbia, Gerry was the youngest of three sons of Benjamin and Kathleen Hamann. Prohibition and the Great Depression kept the family on the move until 1936, when they reached Southern California's sparsely-populated El Cajon Valley. They bought two plots of land, one to plant avocados, the other to pitch a tent. As the family constructed a permanent home with their own labor, Gerry rode his beloved horse, Kip, and began a lifelong love of cars and tractors.

In 1939, legendary newspaperman Ernie Pyle profiled the Hamann family in one of his nationally-syndicated columns. Of Gerry and his brothers, Pyle wrote, "three handsomer nor better mannered nor eager boys you never saw." Mere months later, Gerry's beloved eldest brother, Jack, died in a boating accident, shaking the family to its core.

In 1945, during his senior year at Grossmont High, Gerry was drafted into the Army. Several years later, he was recalled to serve a second tour, this time as a supply sergeant. His time in the military launched a lifetime disdain for bureaucracy. His years as a Boy Scout scoutmaster led him to prefer blue jeans and work shirts to suits and ties.

In 1953, Gerry dove into the surf to warn a beautiful young swimmer about La Jolla's dangerous undertow. After treading water, Julie Molnar, a brilliant, athletic New York-raised schoolteacher, agreed to go on a date. That December, they married. 11 months later, Jack was born. 14 months after that, they welcomed Steve. 67 years later, they were still in love.

Following his father's footsteps, Gerry became a contractor, building or renovating any number of structures, particularly portable classrooms. He often hired workers who were down on their luck. He loved nothing more than a good deal and a high line of credit. He was a longtime Rotarian who never missed a week's meeting.

Gerry and Julie flew the skies in their Cessnas. They hit the road on their Honda Gold Wings. They attended dozens of Elderhostel courses across the nation. Their international travel bordered on epic: all seven continents, a Concorde journey to the edge of the stratosphere, jungles, savannas, glaciers and oceans.

In retirement, Gerry volunteered with the San Diego Sheriff's Senior Patrol and San Diego International Airport's Ambassadors. He joined his buddies each morning for coffee and kvetching, first at Steph's Donut Hole in Alpine, later at La Vida Real in El Cajon. Before his death, he proudly arranged to have his body donated to UCSD for medical research and education.

Gerry will be long loved and remembered by his wife, Julianna, his sons, Jack and Steve, his daughters-in-law Leslie and Lorraine, his grandchildren Brett, Sarah, Lauren and Ben, and his great-grandkids Alice, Liam and Teddy. We'll all think of him whenever we awaken before sunrise.