My Cousin Jerry Raiza

My only first cousin, Rex Gerald (Jerry) Raiza, died on September 17, at the age of 83 after complications of aortic aneurysm repair surgery. Rex was born in El Paso to Elizabeth (Libby) and John Rex Raiza, my mother’s only brother. A true Texan through and through, Rex was preceded in death by his wife of 60 years, Maebelle, in September 2019, and son, Gary, in July 2020. He is survived by his daughters Janna Fjerstad and Rebecca Raiza; son-in-law Paul Fjerstad, daughter-in-law Tracy Holden-Raiza; and four granddaughters who considered him the greatest Grandaddy ever:  Lauren Cody Raiza, Lena, Thea, and Mia Fjerstad. A service of remembrance was held at Royal Lane Baptist Church in Dallas on October 10. Janna and Rebecca asked me to speak. Here is what I was honored to say about Jerry:

It is a joy to be here with you to celebrate the life of Rex Gerald Raiza, whom I knew as Jerry. I represent Jerry’s father’s side of the family and an early period of his life, the late 1940s and early 50s. My mother, Patti Raiza Kirkpatrick, was Jerry’s aunt. Jerry was the only first cousin my brothers and I had and we adored him. My elder brother, Joel, was born in 1936; my brother Harry, in 1937; and Jerry, in 1938. Much as he would like to be here in person, Joel is in Austria now visiting his wife’s family. Harry died in 1993. When I was born in March 1944, Jerry and his mother came 250 miles northwest to the Phillips Petroleum Camp where we lived, north of Amarillo. He had just turned six and did a great job of keeping my brothers occupied while our mothers took care of me.

Each summer we drove five hours south to Woodson. We loved the wide open spaces, so different from the confines of our Company camp. Our grandfather, Harry Raiza, operated a cotton gin there for his brother-in-law, H.L. Kight. His home was across the street from the gin. I got to watch Granddad milk his cow each morning; he always squirted fresh milk into my open mouth. When she wasn’t playing Maple Leaf Rag on the piano, my grandmother, known as Burt, churned butter and cranked out delicious ice cream.

On Jerry’s family’s ranch, a few miles south on the road to Breckenridge, there was more excitement. Uncle Rex showed me how to ride a horse, how to catch a fish, and how hard it was to separate cottonseeds from cotton bolls; hence, the cotton gin. Aunt Libby took me to her garden to harvest fresh vegetables and let me see how she cooked memorable dinners. Jerry, an only child, seemed to appreciate our visits. Those three older boys could have teased me unmercifully, but I remember them only as kind and loving. I felt the same unconditional love in the Raiza’s home as I did in my own.

My Granddad, Harry Raiza, had a rocking chair that symbolized unconditional love. As a toddler, I had rocked too vigorously in it, tumped it over, and lost the tip of my left third finger. Never mind, I still learned to play the piano. Jerry and my brothers competed to see who got to rock the longest. My brother Harry learned how to rock it into the kitchen for a drink of water without giving it up. In the long run, however, it was Jerry who won that rocking chair. He took it to his home in Dallas and rocked his own children in it and his four grandchildren, too. They are all here today. Jerry Raiza rocked!

Back on the ranch Jerry’s family raised cattle, chickens, pigs and turkeys. All went well until 1950 when a massive drought began that devastated West Texas— very little rain for seven years. One dust storm was so bad when I was in fourth grade in 1954, that school was dismissed because we couldn’t see the blackboard from our desks. Jerry’s family hung on until Jerry finished Woodson High School in 1956. When he went off to Texas Tech, his Dad went to work at a cotton gin in Cleburne, Texas.

The 100^th Meridian is the line of longitude that marks the western boundary of most of Oklahoma from the Texas Panhandle and helps give Texas its unique shape. John Wesley Powell, an explorer of the Western United States, pointed out that agriculture was fundamentally different west of that line. By going to Texas Tech in Lubbock, Jerry was following the dictate, “Go West, young man!” He soon realized that he didn’t want a career in agriculture and that he needed to go East instead. In Dallas he discovered his destiny. He parlayed the practical skills he had learned on the ranch and in his grandfather’s gin into a 60-year career in mechanical engineering. No more dirty air! He would condition it! In Dallas Jerry found the love of his life, Maebelle, and settled into a life of love and devotion. I never heard Jerry raise his voice. He was always gentle and loving. And loyal—he attended my father’s funeral in 1970 and I attended his father’s in 1974.

My daughter Shelby and her husband Sean Eidson lived in Dallas 2004-19. When I came to care for their children, it was fun to meet Jerry and Maebelle for lunch, usually at a Mexican restaurant. We reflected on our grandparents and parents and bragged about our children and grandchildren. My husband Steve and my three children admired Jerry and have asked me to express their love and sympathy to all his family. I also bear condolences from my brother Joel, his four children, including Patti and her husband Scott Osborne who are here today, and our second cousin Julia O’Dell, who lives in Amarillo. Now who will get that rocking chair and pass on Jerry’s love to a new generation?

The next speaker was David Hang, who had worked with Jerry for forty-one years at Blum Consulting Engineers in Dallas. He described Jerry as a trailblazer who was greatly respected in his profession. Jerry never really retired; at 83, he remained the firm’s institutional memory and an expert on special projects. At the reception that followed the service, I met three young men Jerry had mentored. They had gone on to other firms, but wanted to pay their respects. They  told me that they all use Revit, the architectural software owned by Autodesk, that my daughter Lilli helped design and continues to improve.

Steve Graham, who had been the Youth minister at Royal Lane Baptist when the Raiza kids were growing up, gave the homily. Gesturing to me, he quoted a line from John Irving’s Prayer for Owen Meany about how cousins know the truth about each other. (That book is one of my all-time favorites; I’m still looking for the exact quote.) Then he read the tribute that Rebecca and Janna wrote last week:

So many have described our dad (Grandaddy) as sweet and gentle. Although soft spoken, a man of few words, when he spoke, he had your attention. Whether it was life advice, a history lesson, sharing one of many stories or jokes, we listened, learned and laughed. We looked to him for the final word.

He was born in El Paso to Elizabeth and Rex Raiza. His dad worked as a private detective for the Pinkerton Detective Agency which we always thought was so cool. When he was 3 years old, the family moved to Woodson, TX to live close to his grandparents. His grandfather and his dad managed the cotton gin in town. His parents bought a 338-acre ranch and leased another 250 acres where they raised cattle and other livestock. It was modest living initially with no electricity, water or sewer. Through ingenuity and hard work eventually his dad brought up water from a stock tank to the house and continued to create a beautiful home in the country.

Oh the stories he shared! He was so proud of how he grew up, as it was the foundation of his character. Out on that ranch, with so little, is where his creativity and engineering talents were born. Being an only child, he had to make his own fun. He told us how he rigged up a ‘baseball pitching machine’ in which he attached a wooden ‘arm’ that he pulled by a rope around his foot to pitch the ball. He attended Woodson School from 1st-12th grade in buildings which still stand and was quite the high school football and baseball star. The highlight of his summers was visits from his cousins- Joel, Harry and Martha. Our dad wrote many short stories to document these memories and shared with us to preserve the family history.

After high school, he attended Texas Tech University in Lubbock to study Engineering. We guess he decided he would rather just get to work and after a year or so, he drove up to Dallas in one of his many Volkswagen Beetles (bugs he called them) and stayed at the downtown YMCA. He got a job at Herman Blum Consulting Engineers as a draftsman and started a 60+ year career as an HVAC engineer, leading many projects.

One of his favorite projects was the First International Building, now called Renaissance Tower, completed in 1974. He designed the mechanical systems for this 56-story high rise. The story goes that he and Martin Schlesinger wanted to check out the work in progress and rode the construction elevator to the roof to have a look around. When it was time to go back down, the elevator was closed for the day and they had to walk down 56 floors! His work family at Blum were truly family to him. He was always humble about his contributions, but we knew the truth and were super proud of him.

It was in his early days in Dallas that he met and married our mom Maebelle. They provided us an amazing childhood with freedom to run and play until dinnertime when we were young, and then chase our dreams as we grew. They travelled to wherever we lived…Austin, California, Norway, Kuwait, Dubai, and England! They were always supportive of any endeavor or adventure. Some of his best pieces of advice were “Life is a series of priorities” and “Just put the key in the ignition and go! “

Around the kitchen table on Spring Grove Avenue is where most of the action happened- dinners and lots of laughs. The grand girls, Lauren Cody, Lena, Thea and Mia added to the fun and were VERY loved by their daddy. [The grand girls rock, too. They honored Jerry by wearing cowboy boots in his honor.]

 

We could go on and on. Our Dad and Grandad was special to each and every one of us in his own way. His impact on our lives will live on forever. He was a true gift to the world and to us. They just don’t make them like that anymore! We love you Daddy/Grandaddy and know you, Mama/Grandmama and Gary are together now. We will live in your honor.

Rebecca and Janna were able to spend Jerry’s final three-and-a-half weeks with him. He specifically requested colorful flowers like these at his funeral, not anything dreary. The music for the service included some of Jerry’s favorites, starting with Beethoven’s Hymn to Joy. Mark Lansdon played San Antonio Rose by Bob Wills on his violin and we all sang Amazing Grace. At the conclusion of the service pianist David Weigle gave a rousing rendition of Scott Joplin’s Maple Leaf Rag. Here’s my attempt to play that piece like my grandmother did. Scott Joplin was born in Texarkana, Texas in 1868; my grandmother, Lucy Burt Duke Raiza in Granbury, Texas, in 1878. She learned Maple Leaf Rag by ear and made it her own. Now I will always think of you, Jerry, when I play it. I’m proud to call you my cousin.