Glenn Rogers

MICHAEL’S EUOLOGY FOR HIS BROTHER, GLENN ROGERS
Glenn was our son, our brother, our uncle. Glenn was our baby. Glenn was our hero. Glenn was the center of our universe.
Glenn lived for 51 years. He had a good life. His was a life spent climbing mountains. But it was Glenn. So he didn’t really climb. He walked. And slowly at that. But make no mistake, however he did it, climb he did. He began climbing mountains the moment he was born. Glenn suffered from heart problems, and he had Williams Syndrome.
As a baby, it took Glenn so long to begin talking that many wondered if he ever would. He did. It took him so long to begin walking that many wondered if he ever would. He did. It took Glenn so long to learn to read many wondered if he ever could. He kind of did. Glenn could read a little. I was always amazed how every Sunday he would love to get not The Ledger or The Record, but The New York Times. I never knew how much reading he actually did, but he loved it.
Growing up with Glenn was special. When we were young, we shared a bedroom and many nights we would fall asleep holding hands across the two beds. I don’t know when, but at some point I began calling him Bud. Because he was much more than a brother. Not to be outdone, he began calling me Bud. And throughout our lives that’s what we called each other.
Growing up, we were very protective of Glenn. Probably overprotective. I remember my mother always calling out: “Where’s Glenn?” And my father had a special whistle to call him. “Where’s Glenn?” Sometimes we didn’t know. Once he walked off when we were on a camping trip in Sequoia National Park. And we didn’t find him for hours. Another time he ran away from home on a bike with training wheels. And when the police found him and brought him home late that night, Glenn got the worst punishment he could ever imagine: He was put to bed without supper.
Oh how Glenn loved to eat. And he had his own special way of doing it. He would always eat one thing entirely before going on to another. Just last Sunday night I watched him eat his baked potato completely before going on to something else. Glenn was always watching his weight. To put it more accurately, my parents were always watching Glenn’s weight. They constantly tried to control his portions, to Glenn’s great dismay. When he came to our house for dinner, we would always try to seat him away from my mother and father so we could sneak him a little extra.
As Glenn became a teenager and adult, he never lost his sweetness and innocence. When Glenn liked you, boy did you know it. Who here hasn’t heard that big, booming, uninhibited greeting? And how special it made us feel.
Glenn did the same kinds of everyday things we all do. Only in his unique way. One time when Glenn was voting in the presidential election, my mother was waiting outside for him. And he came out holding a huge cake. He thought you got that for voting. He didn’t realize it was a bake sale sponsored by The League of Women Voters.
Glenn loved music. Pink Floyd. The Stones. David Bowie. Led Zepplin. And we went to concerts together. He loved drinking beer. And we drank beer together. Glenn loved professional wrestling and even gambling.
Many years ago Glenn and I went to Vegas together. I remember one night we went to sleep very late. At one point I woke up and the bed next to me was empty. “Oh no, where’s Glenn?” I threw on my clothes, and just when I was about to go looking for him, the door flew open. There was Glenn, grinning from ear-to-ear holding a big cup spilling over with quarters he had just won at slots. Glenn really did grin ear to ear when he was proud of himself.
Glenn had a life. A good life. A full life. He had unfaltering love and support. He had a mother and a father who exemplified the word “devotion.” They were there for him constantly in so many big and little ways. And woe to anyone who was foolish or insensitive enough to harm Glenn, whether by action, remark or even look.
Glenn had a sister who would do anything for him. And always did. Deb was completely and utterly devoted to Glenn. And Glenn loved and cherished Deb and her family—Ricky, Raechel and Howard-- dearly.
Glenn had a sister-in-law who opened her home and heart to him. Judy delighted in Glenn’s company and would often say to him, “Glenn, I married the wrong brother.” Glenn would laugh and reply, “You got that right.”
Glenn had a big extended family of Harrakas, McCreaths and Pangilians, Brancos, Rogers, and Masters, who loved and accepted him. And always made him feel part of their family.
Glenn had friends, a job and a girl friend, Debbie Ann Locke, whom he loved very much. They were together for 25 years; they spoke on the phone three times every day. They went on dates, they went to couples counseling and talked of getting married.
Everyone did so much for Glenn. Somehow you wanted to do things for him. He was easy to do things for. Jesse, Sam and Matt called him “Uncle G.” And showered him with love and kindness. Those rowdy boys somehow became more gentle in his presence. They always wanted him to sleep over. They loved his sense of humor, and he loved to make them laugh.
We did so much for Glenn. But it was really Glenn who did so much for us. He gave our lives meaning and purpose. Glenn made us feel needed and important. True, he may have been dependent on us. But we were dependent on him.
And he taught us so much.
If we never made fun of someone who was different, it was because of Glenn.
If we went out of our way to help a special needs person, it was because of Glenn.
If we became less selfish and more generous human beings, it was because of Glenn.
Glenn was sweet and innocent and gentle. But he was also surprisingly tough and resilient. As a young adult, he suffered from depression. But he fought back. At that time he began smoking and gave new meaning to the phrase “chain smoking.” And then as suddenly as he started, he stopped. Just like that. And never started again.
Some 20 years ago, Glenn almost died one night from complications stemming from surgery. But his toughness came through again. He didn’t give up. He was a fighter. Over the years, Glenn was in and out of the hospital and the emergency rooms more times than we can remember. And “Where’s Glenn ” became “How’s Glenn?” In a fall several years ago he broke both of his hips. In addition to severe anxiety, he was coping with diabetes and just this past month a very painful case of shingles.
But he never gave up. He always fought back. And through it all he never complained. As tough as things were at times for Glenn, he really did love life.
My Bud was tough. So tough that my father had a very difficult time conceding that Glenn would not make it a few nights ago. Glenn always did. He always did things the hard way. But he was tough and always pulled through. It was inconceivable for us that he wouldn’t.
Several months ago, Glenn began the climb to his final mountain. Like any good climber, he needed a base camp. A place he could be safe and comfortable. And so the past four months of his life he went back to the place of infinite patience and boundless love and mercy. He went back to live with his parents. He couldn’t have had better or more loving care. The same care he received for 51 years. The care of Saints.
Glenn climbed his last mountain with courage and grace and dignity. The way you would expect a true hero to.
A few nights ago my mother said, “I keep hearing Glenn call me.” We will always hear Glenn calling us. From now on we will no longer ask “Where’s Glenn?” We know where Glenn is. Glenn is here. Glenn is in our hearts. And My Bud will be here forever.

MARILYN AND MARVIN’S EULOGY FOR THEIR SON GLENN
Baruch Habah. Blessed are ye who come here today. Glenn would enjoy being such a celebrity.
Marvin and Marilyn asked me to say a few words for them. Your love and support of Glenn meant so much to him and to our family. It added a huge dimension to his life. Glenn was our youngest, the baby of the family--and that he was for 51 years.
He was fortunate in growing up with a sister and brother who watched over him and loved him unconditionally. Later on in life, when Michael and Debbie married, Glenn had Judith, Howard, and his 4 nephews and a niece whom he loved dearly. And they all loved their Uncle G. They, too, loved him unconditionally. Glenn and his companion, Debra Ann Locke, cared for each other over 25 years.
Spectrum for Living and The Daughters of Miriam gave Glenn his independence, and friends, and a life. Glenn’s life was also enriched by his extended family, the caring and sharing Harrakas, Pangilinans, McCreaths, and the Masters, Segals, and Rogers.
In all the literary descriptions of valor and courage, none can equal the spirit and indomitable character of our beloved son Glenn, who endured so much so cheerfully. We love you, Glenn. Rest in peace.

Dream on, dream on, dream on, dear love,
For this sweet sleep will ever bring,
Reprieve from sorrow’s bitter sting.
 

To donate to Spectrum for Living in Glenn's memory, click here

To donate to the WSA in Glenn's memory, click here