Edward Downs

Over his eighty years, Edward Henry Downs answered to many names. Because he was a junior, his family avoided confusion by calling him Ned. When his father died Ed was twenty-two and reclaimed his given name. After he married the love of his life, his children called him Dad; their friends called him Mr. Downs. When in his fifth decade he took a new job alongside a co-worker also named Ed, he started calling himself Mike, borrowing his son's name so sales calls wouldn't be routed to the wrong person. Finally came the names that made him happiest: Papa to his grandchildren, and Mr. Ed to neighborhood kids who visited because they knew he'd give them lollipops.
Edward Henry Downs, Papa, Mr. Ed-Dad-died from colon cancer on April 23, 2022 at home in Round Rock, Texas and in the company of his children. Born December 11, 1941 in Hartford, Connecticut, he lived many lives. The son of divorced parents, he spent little time with his father so developed a powerful, lifelong sense of duty to family.
This duty manifested when, as a teen, he worked paper routes and raised the money to buy the family car. He even tried to deliver his route the morning after the family home was swept away by a raging Farmington River in 1955's historic Connecticut floods. Though a lifelong reader, Ed disliked school and dropped out "as soon as I could quit," later earning an equivalency degree. During those years he pitched for the Colt Firearms Factory team in Hartford's semi-pro Twilight League, drawing interest from a Red Sox scout though an elbow injury he'd suffered gave the scout reason to shy away.
It was about this time that he met Judy Petry, his forever love. She waitressed at a Friendly's restaurant where he took lunch breaks, and soon he started asking to be seated at one of her tables. She had a bright smile, an easy-going way, and a stubbornness to match his own. They married in January 1964 and welcomed their first child, Michael, in October that same year. As their family grew with the arrival of Paul and Susan, Ed and Judy moved into a house on Benton Lane in Glastonbury, Connecticut. Here Judy and Ed developed friendships with neighbors-especially with Donna and Bill Neuber-that enriched their lives.
Life and career led the family to leave Benton Lane, first for Vermont and then to Tucson, Arizona. Here, Ed rode motorcycles, hunted deer and elk, jumped into his backyard pool after hot workdays, cheered for the Arizona Wildcats, and golfed with the Desert Snakes club (winning the 2004 annual net play competition). Here, also, is where Dad became Papa to his grandson and granddaughter. He was happiest in their company, whether teaching Ryan to skip rocks or pretending to sleep as Amber drew on his face. Those two are adults now, and Ed proved warrior enough in his last weeks to don a "Grandpa" shirt from the university where Amber will pursue her doctorate and also to lead the procession at Ryan's wedding. Leaning on a cane and despite great pain, he walked down that aisle looking as sharp as he ever had, shoulders straight and tie knotted nattily.
Judy was not with him for that walk. After years of chronic illness when Ed was her primary caregiver, she died in 2016 of ovarian cancer. This loss left Ed bereft. When his kids got tattoos to remember their mother, he did, too, and Judy's portrait was imprinted on his left biceps, always with him.
If you knew him, you know he liked routine, especially a daily late breakfast at Carl's Jr., whether in Arizona or in Texas after he and Judy moved there to be nearer their kids. He'd order biscuits and gravy and read the New York Times or make lists to help him organize his day. You know that he loved all dogs and kids. You know he disliked spending money but was generous, giving to homeless people who asked for bus fare or supporting a fund-raiser for a family friend or bringing turtle pie to family gatherings. You know he believed in America and his individual rights to speak his mind, which he often did, and to own firearms. You know he wanted never to be a burden and instead to always do the job, whether delivering the newspaper or assembling a motorized bicycle for a neighbor's boy. You know he might sip a little blackberry brandy on a camping trip. You know that those who loved him are heartbroken to say goodbye.
He is survived by his children and their families: Michael Downs and Sheri Venema of Baltimore, Maryland; Paul and Wendy Downs of Round Rock, Texas, and their daughter, Amber; Susan and Terry Pruitt of Georgetown, Texas, and their son Ryan Pruitt and daughter-in-law, Mikayla. He is also survived by his brother, Gary Michael Downs of Copperas Cove, Texas, and by Kathleen D. Negri of Beavercreek, Ohio, his sister from his father's second marriage, along with several nieces, nephews, extended family, and neighbors.
Ed didn't like much fuss made about him, so no one should expect a ceremony. If you'd like to remember Ed, his family asks that you donate to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital or let a dog take a biscuit straight from your mouth or give a kid a lollipop.