Robert Paul Rutledge

Robert Paul Rutledge, was born to a simple life in Zanesville, Ohio, April 20th, 1920.

He died in his home, with his wife and caregiver, at his side, in the early morning hours of December 10th, 2014, after a brief battle with an aggressive cancer. He was 94 years old.

He had 4 Children – one daughter and three sons, with many more grandchildren & even many great grandchildren. He was married for 69 years to a woman, he knew so briefly before marrying, that it was a courtship that read like a romance novel.

He was a salesman when he retired. Not only was he a Veteran of World War II – he was a coach for youth football, a bartender, a furniture mover, an expert drapery man, played baseball in his youth, grew up on the heart of the depression, a local Seattle business owner, and longtime landlord for properties in Ballard. He knew and met many a great people in Seattle over 69 years, watched it change into what it is today. He loved to travel with his wife and children, he instilled a love for travel in his children. He loved the Seahawks so much that he faithfully watched every game yet never made it to a game in Century Link field or Safeco Field, because he thought he was “too old to make it there”. He was a proud father and a grandfather who believed in supporting the educational pursuits of his offspring. He never got to attend college but wanted his heirs to do so, if they desired to. His heirs have benefited by his dream of their college education.

He kept his wit about him until his very last days, saying he “would like to go home...”.

He will be missed by all those who knew him, even if it was a short time.

Donations may be sent in his name to one of his favored charities in lieu of flowers sent:

http://www.seattlechildrens.org/ways-to-help/donate/

This story is one I wrote back in July 2014, about a day I spent with him, listening to his great stories, in his home, around the kitchen table:

“69 Years of Tears”

By M.J. Miller

He tells stories.

He remembers.

He tells the story, the 'one' of his lifetime.

He starts to tell the story, in the midst of a conversation (blindly listening with his hearing aids in), hardly seeming to be paying attention, when suddenly something is said, to trigger his memory, instantly bringing him back to that day and the moment, when time stood still for him and so many others.

As the story begins, our current conversation is suddenly brought to a silent halt, we are mesmerized by his chilling description of that day, we find ourselves, listening with mouths open, eyes transfixed on his every word, as he expresses the feelings of his young journey into manhood(a world away from his childhood home of Zanesville, Ohio), as he lived through the depths of the moment - WWII's most harrowing trials of life and death.

He speaks of it, as if it happened yesterday. How it made him feel, still impacting his emotions, causing tears to well up in his eyes (choking up with emotions)as he blindly gazes off, searching for the words, to bring his memories to life, in the telling of his story, describing that day to us. He wants us to know. We are drawn silently frozen in the flow of his words, nothing else matters, in this very moment in time. This is real, this is a raw account from someone, who was actually there, who survived one of the greatest battles of all time, in the greatest year in the history of the world, 1945.

In his emoting of the story, you can see, he remembers the smells, the touch, the sounds, the emotions he felt that day. As he searches for the words, his emotions increase in fluidity as the tears gather in his eyes, you gasp as the emotion grabs you and pulls you into his experience in sensing his emotions.

His blind eyes, filled with tears, transfixed open, as he describes the first Kamikaze's plane crashing into the ship, giving a chilling description of what it's like – when your friend, dies in your arms. The USS Bunker Hill was on fire and hundreds were dead as the second plane crashed into the bow of the vessel. The fire engulfed the body of the ship, burning it beyond recognition. Thick, black smoke was everywhere. In coming to the realization of what happened, stunned, he looked about on deck, wondering what to do or where to go next. Seeing others(of higher rank) jumping overboard, to flee from the flames, he opted to jump into the Sea of Japan, to fight for his life. As other ships moved toward them, to arrest the effects of the attack- fighting the fire, as then the ship was crippled, he could only watch in disbelief as she burned in front of him.

That was May 11, 1945, the day the USS Bunker Hill succumbed to defeat. His recall of that moment, is like it happened yesterday, bringing a wellspring of tears, each time, causing him to gasp, with the sadness living deep inside of his psyche.

Now, at age 94, his life and legacy is, all in moments of stories told by him, stories of time, long gone in yesterday's moments. In listening to his telling of the story, it urges me to write of it, out of respect. Respect for his bravery, and all his longing to retell it, to help justify the sadness he relives every time in those moments lived, in the indignant pain that lives, leftover from war, and his wanting others to know, how it felt to him.

After the attack was over, he and his shipmates who survived(most of them long gone now), returned to the Bremerton,Washington-Naval Shipyards, to get needed repairs. For him, the war was quickly over, but never forgotten. After that period of time was over, he stayed in the city of Seattle and made it home. Now, here he sits with his 97 year old wife by his side, married 69 years (September 1945). Today is a lifetime away from that day.

In his time here, he has seen all the growing pains of Seattle: Raised his 4 children & put his first born and only daughter, to rest here. Like many, he is an avid sports fan, faithfully watching every Seahawks game. He coached youth football when his sons were in school. He watched the demolition of the Kingdome & yet has never been to a game in Safeco Field, but listened to every Mariner game. He followed the Seattle Super Sonics – saying so long to them. As a lover of football, he is so proud of the Seattle Seahawks championship Super Bowl win, after following the team's history from the very beginning. He has seen all the changes and growth of the community of Seattle(seeing it built up and torn down) – he is deeply concerned for life in Washington (effecting his friends and neighbors) from reading about daily life in the Seattle Times. Now he reads only with the help of his wife reading aloud, the Seattle Times daily, as his sight is almost gone from macular degeneration, a blinding curse of old age. He struggles to hear her words from the deafness caused from that day in 1945. He feels now, that his life is so irrelevant, yet his stories make it relevant to those who are willing to listen and understand.

Even though 69 years has passed, he remembers that year, like yesterday, the tears welling up in his eyes, are real. Few people coming of age now, know he reality of his story. It saddens me that his war medals award was overlooked by the Navy department, he never received the purple heart he earned by being there.

He tells his story, of war and surviving war. He is unique, in a sea of millions, because of the stories he can still tell, of his survival, and he is still here to share it's emotional reality of the moment. When someone like him, starts to tell their story, it's good to stop & listen – to all they have to say, until they are done, for respectfully, it's their moment in the sun.

Copyright 7/2014, by M.J. Miller

* * * * * * * * * *

I'd like the memory of me

to be a happy one.

I'd like to leave an afterglow

of smiles when life is done.

I'd like to leave an echo whispering

softly down the ways,

Of happy times and laughing times

and bright sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve

to dry before the sun.

Of happy memories that I leave

When my life is done.