Nathaniel Haugh

Nathaniel Klimen Haugh was a mullet-sporting, bandana-bearing, puffy-vest wearing, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, rabble-rousing proud resident of Huntington Beach. He was infuriatingly good looking, whether he was 200 pounds or 300 pounds, or whether he was clean shaven or sporting a wizard-like goatee. He was a deeply spiritual, hysterically funny, and incredibly unique son, husband, father, brother, and friend who could find and create joy and light, despite enormous challenges.

Nate was the oldest child of Gayle and Terry Haugh, and was at least a good enough baby to inspire them to have his awesome siblings: Caralyn, Greg, and Jonathan. Terry taught him carpentry and tools and Gayle taught him infinite unconditional love, patience, and how to make a fine casserole. The love and adoration of his parents were shared by his siblings, with all agreeing, without jealousy, that he was the best iteration of the Haughs.

His parents also fostered a deep interest in religion and philosophy, and a strong faith in God-a faith that withstood deep examination and struggles in the wake of tragic losses. This faith also gave him a sense of strength and protection that fed his occasionally fearless ways, but also gave him light in the darkness.

And as he grew, he broke a lot of stuff... but he also learned how to fix things. And he learned that when the sun goes down (as it must), you just get out your blowtorch, throw a piece of old furniture in the yard, start a bad ass bonfire, keep it going strong with a cordless Ryobi blower, and party on.

As it turned out, Nate was a brilliant kid, a fantastic-student and an extraordinary athlete-while also being a fearless, wild-ass trouble-maker. This duality in his persona will be expanded on later, but by middle school, a few things were clear: Girls loved him, he was a good person to cheat off of, and one hell of a linebacker.

He was smart, gorgeous, athletic-the kind of guy that in high school movie comedies would often be the bully or villain. But he was off-script: Nate was sweet, empathetic, and kind. He loved deep conversations and analyzing Bob Dylan. He once created a drinking contest where you won if you could get the furthest into reciting the lyrics of Subterranian Homesick Blues. He loved making side bets.

He was also a gifted musician and loved to sing. Nate's voice, while music to the ears of his friends and family, was a gravelly orchestra influenced by years of coaching girls soccer, bourbon, and smokes. Sometimes dogs would bark and people would think Nate was saying something. And yet, to the people who loved him, his voice was satiny, beautiful, and unforgettable.

There was simply nothing in his life that he loved more or was a bigger source of pride than his girls, Ava and Liv.

Ava & Liv were beautifully parented by Nate and Sam (who suffered through his insanely loud snores as much as any human on earth). While he was enormously proud of Ava & Liv's exceptional interpersonal skills, nothing made him light up more than hearing them singing or playing instruments or seeing them recite whole scripts from the brilliant Canadian hit, Letterkenny. It was no coincidence that the two stray kittens were named Shorsey and Wayne. His closeness to his daughters and influence on them can't be overstated.

If Reese, their bulldog, could read, it would thoroughly annoy him that the cats were named first in this obituary, because *he* was Nate's true best friend. They say people look like their dogs, which was perhaps true in Nate's later years, but they definitely sounded alike. Particularly when they were chuckling at Norm MacDonald or Doug Stanhope. That dog really loved Nate, and not just because they both largely subsisted on perfectly charred, if exceptionally salty, tri-tip.

Nate's superpower was going into any room and being likable, regardless of what he said or looked like or did. Unsurprisingly, everyone who got close to him felt close to him. But being close to him wasn't all roses and rainbows: Sometimes he would get a little rowdy and turn into "Hard Nate," which was akin to a highly-stimulated labrador puppy in a room full of balls, ropes, and treats. But somehow, no matter what he did, it was impossible to stay mad at the dude. And really, there isn't a Hard Nate story that we don't laugh at in retrospect.

Third only to his daughters and his family, were his buddies. Nate deeply loved and cared for his friends. He was the first to help out or to counsel. He captained a tribe of old friends that remained incredibly close for decades. When one of them, Brian, passed in 2019, it was Nate that formed "The Game of Life" - a membership of friends with a money pool for whomever lived the longest, complete with the most arcane governing laws and an annual board meeting. The board meeting was an excuse for everyone just to spend time with each other. Nate knew the secret to success- it was all about persistency and consistency. He had both.

There are probably thousands of people who loved the guy. He paid attention to the people he met, whether they were bagging his groceries or selling him smokes. He loved woodworking, coaching soccer, and for some reason, he loved spreadsheets. He enjoyed using a leaf blower indoors. He loved helping his girls with math and writing and/or Norm MacDonald jokes. He LOVED his girls. He masterfully deployed his carpentry skills to build an axe-throwing lane in his backyard and hung a shockingly high number of hooks throughout his house-and had fun making sure both were noticed when Ava & Liv had boys around.

He was a rock for his family, and was as devoted to them as one could be. More than you will ever guess. His brother Jonathan passed away years ago, in 2004, and Huntington's Disease claimed both his dad, Terry in 2017 and his brother, Greg just months ago in late 2022.

Tragically, to the great anguish of his friends and family, Nate's colorful, amazing life ended on June 23rd... when he laid down on the couch and his beautiful heart failed, despite 49 years of perfect service to the Orange County community.