Remembering Pastor Paul Emil Jacobson Sr. Sept 22, 1922 - Sept 1, 1981

for our family, Paul Jacobson Jr. shares memories of his father

Pastor Paul

Memories of my Dad:

Suffice it to say, the early passing of my father, at 58 years of age, took an emotional toll on the whole family. For me, it was the loss of a friend and mentor…and an example of how to live life. I have never taken the time to document my thoughts or observations about him until cousin Ranae asked me to write about my father.

Needless to say, this has been an emotional exercise…Rather than writing a lifetime story about the man referred to as “Pastor Paul”, by his congregation and neighbors or “Big Paul” by his loving wife, Ruth, I have just done a brain dump of memories that are still etched on my mind and soul.

While he was Dad…first and foremost he was my Dad the pastor. Things I remember about his calling:

He loved all people and never spoke ill of anyone.

He visited the sick at home and in the hospital.

He visited people in jail (he took me along several times, it did make an impression).

He preached with passion for the lost and hurting. The love of God was his central theme.

He wasn’t judgmental, but he did have high expectations of folks (and his children).

He spent many hours praying, preparing sermons and performing pastoral duties.

Singing and playing his guitar were part of his ministry. This gift was something that was nurtured as a young man doing street ministry in Chicago with his brothers. I loved sitting with him in his study, listening to him play and sing. I never did figure out how he always had Martin guitars….

As some may know, country pastors didn’t make a lot of money back in the day. In fact, working other jobs to supplement his income was just a fact of life.

He painted homes.

He drove school bus.

He was a field boss during the summer berry season.

He was generous, probably to a fault….and wasn’t the best at managing finances.

Some of his personal quirks were legend amongst the family. What I recall is limited…

He loved the color orange. We had an orange car, sofa, carpeting….oh my, those socks!!!

He was not the best at coordinating colors and clothing styles. His style was, well, eclectic. He always wore suits while on pastoral duty but those leisure outfits were legendary. Striped and checkered shorts, goofy sandals with socks (usually orange).

He was partial to homemade root beer.

He loved driving the family on back roads, going on picnics and exploring the countryside. We were never lost, just exploring a new logging road to who knows where.

He would strike up conversations with anyone, rich or poor, black or white, able and disabled. You could always count on him to treat each with respect, listening and interacting. I always believed that his profound and unconditional love of God’s children drove this behavior.

Dad was a role model for behavior of a husband and father. I believe many of his virtues were the result of his mother Anna Abrahamsson Jacobson’s loving hand in raising the “baby” of the family.

He was patient and loving. He loved his family, his mother, father and siblings and their families.

He was even tempered and I never heard him raise his voice or argue with mom (or grandma:) in front of the family. (Yes, mom’s parents, Clara and Edwin Nelson lived with us for most of our childhood...creating a special dynamic for all of us.)

While my brother Tim and I probably gave him cause, he never lost his temper. When discipling us, he would always discuss the problem, help us understand the error, pray for us, and then calmly deliver our discipline. (Yes, we did have spankings). I have never had any ill feelings about this…and grew to understand what “going to the woodshed” really meant.

Oh yes, we did have a wood shed where my brother and I learned how to split wood and stack it to keep the home fires burning for heating and cooking.

While he was very busy as a pastor, Dad did find some time for his family and children. He was supportive of me in band playing the trombone, in sports, etc.

I learned how to play horseshoes from dad; the church picnic always had a horseshoe competition where he was in the thick of it. He could be somewhat competitive when it came to games, especially when us boys challenged him to croquet or “horse”.

He loved to go fishing with his boys. Later in life I tumbled to the conclusion that, yes, we were having fun but also providing food for the family.

A memorable event for a young boy was going duck hunting with Dad…with a borrowed shotgun for him and a popgun for me. Not sure if he got any ducks, but it was an adventure for me, spending time with dad in the wilderness.

He was protective and concerned about my joining the United States Marine Corps. In fact, he was not going to sign the papers allowing a 17 year old to become a leatherneck. Mom finally convinced him. He was super proud of my service and I know he prayed for me daily.

Dad was supportive of my marriage to this Anglican girl from Canada…he was a fast and favorite friend of hers.

He was proud of my getting a degree in mechanical engineering from the University of Washington and working for Standard Oil of California (later Chevron).

What meant the most to me was his enduring concern for the well being of my soul and  my relationship to God .... up to the very end of his short life.

I love you Dad…You are not forgotten.

- Paul Jr., now the elder.

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    Thank you Paul,