George Joseph Neault
February 17, 1934 - May 16, 2006
Obituary
George Joseph Neault, 72, of Seattle passed away unexpectedly of a heart attack on Tuesday in Longview, WA. He was born in Houghton, Michigan on February 17, 1934 to George and Dorothy Neault.
George proudly served his country in the US Army from 1956-1961 in Germany and the United States. He attended Seattle University, and earned a B.A. in Business Administration with Honors. After many years as a metal and wood craftsman in the construction industry, George worked for the City of Seattle in purchasing and then for Seattle City Light, from which he retired in 1996. George enjoyed his retired life fully, taking many long vacations in the US, including at the family cabin near Olympia, and in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
George was a lifetime athlete, being a high school football star, winning countless medals in the military, and even recently in the Senior Games, taking medals in shot put and hammer throw. George was active in St. Joseph’s Parish for over 40 years. He was known as a big-hearted, fun-loving, hard-working, generous, and playful man, and was a Seafair Pirate in the 60’s. He loved to entertain family & friends and was renowned for his summer clam fests. He will be deeply missed by family and his many friends and neighbors.
George is survived by his cherished wife, Erin; son, David Andrea Neault of Port Ludlow and grandchildren, Jillian and Trevor Neault; and son, Danial Neault of Redmond. George was preceded in death 20 years ago by Marilyn Steckler, his first wife.
This is to celebrate the life, and honor the passing on, of our father, George Joseph Neault, who was a great man.
Who was George? In a sentence, he was a hard-working man with the economy that comes from growing up with little, but whose generosity of heart was a joy to all of us. And, like a fine wine, George just got better with time. He had an unwavering will to love and grow, which inspired us all. We will miss his wisdom, warmth, smile and at times mischievous humor.
George came a long way from his roots and personal challenges that he did not share with many people. He grew up in a mining town in the Michigan Upper Peninsula that recovered slowly from the Depression era. His father died when he was in middle school, and he and his mother had to work in order to eat. He was a high-school sports star who was smart, but didn’t yet value education. We remember him talking about an assignment to memorize one of the classic poems he had no interest in, but Casey at the Bat was on the opposing page – and we have heard him recite it countless times: ”The outlook wasn’t brilliant, for the Mudville 9 that day”.
Dad first came to Seattle in 1959 with $26 in his pocket to woo a young lady he met when she visited his home town. Sadly, she died just before they were to announce their engagement. But Dad was never one to give up. He met our mother, Marilyn Steckler here in Seattle and that began his life in this community. Mom lived 2 blocks north of where you we are now, which is 2 houses from the house Dad lived in for the last 42 years. They married in this church soon thereafter, and Dad sprung into action.
While working full time and with Marilyn pregnant with David, Dad enrolled at Seattle University in night school in Business Administration, ”on the side” also remodeling their first home. Dad took on a big load to support his growing family, yet still graduated with Honors. Dan’s birth followed David’s by about two years, along with their move to Capitol Hill from Beacon Hill. Dad also bought our first station wagon and family cabin that is next door to our uncle’s in Olympia. There is a great story about this cabin. We were visiting my uncle, and the owners of the cabin next door, which was their home, liked our family and connection with my uncle so much that they insisted that Mom and Dad buy it. They agreed to sell for about half of what it was worth, with nothing due for 2 years. All of this was a foundation for our family. We had that wagon for almost 20 years, with fond memories, and still have the house and the cabin, where Dad and Erin have had clam fests for over a decade.
George soon started a construction company, MS Neault construction – named for our mothers’ initials. Dad worked on many houses here in the neighborhood, sometimes with our help. It was important to Dad to pass along what he knew to us, and not just about work. Dad loved the city, but he wanted us to have a nature experience similar to what he had growing up in Michigan, so we spent long summer breaks at the cabin, with Dad coming down on Friday evenings. We often played Pinochle as a family late into the evening, and sometimes into the early morning.
Dad worked hard but made time for us, especially when it was time to work on something. An example is when he decided that it was time to teach the boys how to build a cabin. At ages seven and five, we helped build the “kids cabin” which cost less than fifty dollars using surplus and salvaged parts. It is still there and it is still named the kids cabin. As many of you know, Dad couldn’t pass up a great deal, which we, and the grandchildren, share. It is kind of touching that his heart issues started manifesting in a thrift shop, and that Erin went back afterwards and purchased some items that had Dad’s attention, for the cabin.
Mid-way in his life, Dad made a career change. He started using his education and business talents for a living, and made his love for woodworking his hobby. Dad started working for the City of Seattle in purchasing, where he was almost immediately recognized for his effectiveness, including in a letter signed by the Mayor. Dad had a long successful career with the city, which ultimately led him to work at Seattle City Light in purchasing. In his footsteps, over the years, everyone in our family has worked for Seattle City Light for a period. When Dan interned there he was in the same building at Marilyn, and George occasionally dropped the two of them off.
It was not long after that, exactly 20 years ago this year, our mother Marilyn died of cancer. Dad was grief-struck, but made a new life, with the community and the church, and became happy once again. After his own bout with cancer, Dad retired about 13 very good years ago, one of his best decisions. It was in this period that George met Erin, and this along with the birth of his first grandchild, Jillian, ushered in a wonderful new era in his life and for our family. Dad was happy, with a wonderful woman who we will forever be indebted to, and a family to carry his genes into the future. He worked hard at enjoying life and shared that joy with those around him. He was always available to help us think about things, decide what to do, and figure out how to get a great deal. His love for his wife Erin, us, his grandchildren, his friends and community just kept growing.
When it comes to love for his family, Dad’s was very deep. Dan remembers when he and Dad were driving down Crescent Ave. in that same family station wagon, on the way to Ernst to get something for a project they were working on. At the stoplight about to take a left onto 23rd and talking about something unrelated, and he burst out how much he loved us and how he would give the shirt off of his back if we needed it and his tears started flowing. He quickly regained his composure, and asked Dan to not tell anyone. Dad was so open about his love for us in later years that I’m sure he would be happy to have this shared, at least we hope so else Dan is going to get a lecture in about 40 years. It is one of Dan’s most tender memories of Dad.
Dave would often call George to ask him questions about how to fix something. The last tip he gave was how to fix a break in a water line. He hoped George knew what to do — Dave was covered in mud and looking for a George solution to avoid buying 100 feet of pipe when 8 inches was due.
The grandkids, Jillian and Trevor, had their own special relationship with George. It was magical to see his face light up whenever they came to visit each other. He always had a treat for them. One day he came with 10 tubes of toothpaste—he was concerned about their dental health. It will take at least ten years to get through all of it. Often he brought roses to Dave’s wife Andrea—he was working on getting Dave to get her flowers more often.
As the adage goes, every cloud has a silver lining, and when Dan went through a divorce last year he spent more time with George than in any year in the past 20, whether just dropping by the house or going to the Nutcracker. In that way, this will have been one of Dan’s best years. Thank you, Dad, for being available when we needed you. And great job being Dan’s partner at Pinochle Sunday before last, and beating Erin and Laura!
Dad had caught a taste of travel in his later years, and with Erin at his side, it blossomed. Almost every year they would travel to Puerto Vallarta, and now the rest of us have come it love it too. They were married there in 1995. Erin and George traveled to visit their many friends throughout the United States. They were a happy, loving couple, enjoying their retirement together. And Erin opened Dad in new ways, in community and philanthropy. Something we just learned about is a collection of eyeglasses that will be distributed to people in third-world countries, which was wonderful to learn about.
Dad also started reconnecting with his roots including traveling to Michigan and learning about his ancestry.The root of our family name is Nau, and our motto is LOVE AND GO. That expresses in a few words the realities and aspirations of the family lineage, and it speaks to today. As Nau, and I’m quoting: ”We are called to be filled with love and venture into all things! Look to the future and aspire to the highest destiny. Love all that you do, from the smallest thing to the largest. Love. With love, the world is open to you, all becomes possible.” This is the story of Dad’s life.
We are working through grief at our sudden loss. As we work through his leaving us in body, we are comforted by the warmth of the community as a reflection of who George was and what he contributed. As his family, we are comforted by the endless support from all of you. George’s time here was too short, yet the number of you here at this service is an affirmation of the impact he had on so many people.
We all loved him and will miss him. We hope you will join us in making him immortal in our lives and lives of those we touch by bringing the best of him into our thoughts and lives.
I’m so grateful to George for simply being himself, for loving me, and for bringing me the gift of family. And I’ve been so blessed by the support of my family and the community. I don’t have words at this time to express my appreciation, but know that I’m aware of being surrounded by your love.
Yesterday I had a dream about dying
About laying to rest and then flying
How the moment at hand is the only thing
We really own
And I lay in my bed and I wonder
After all has been said and is done for
Why is it thus we are here
And so soon we are gone
Is this life just a path to the place
That we all have come from
Does the heart know the way
And if not, can it ever be found
In a smile or a tear or a prayer
Or a sigh or a song
And if so, then I sing for my father
And in truth you must know I would rather
He were here by my side
We could fly on the wings of a dream
To a place where the spirit would find us
And the joy and surrender would bind us
We are one anyway
Anyway we are more than we seem
There are those who will lead us
Protect us each step of the way
From beginning to end
For each moment forever each day
Such a gift has been given
It can never be taken away
Though the body in passing must leave us
There is one who remains to receive us
There are those in this life
Who are friends from our heavenly home
So I listen to the voices inside me
For I know they are there just to guide me
And my faith will proclaim it is so
We are never alone
From the life to the light
From the dark of the night to the dawn
He is so in my heart
He is here he could never be gone
Though the singer is silent
There still is the truth of the song
–John Denver
I will always miss you.
Love, Andy