John Shipp (1939-2009)

John Mark Shipp, Sr. (born October 8, 1939, died January 16, 2009). John was the son of A.H. Shipp and Emma Henry Newcomb. He is survived by his wife of thirty-eight years, Shirley Shipp, formerly Shirley Foster. On January 16, 2008 he died at home with his wife after enjoying an afternoon and dinner with her. He died in her arms.

He is survived by four children, Jerry Wayne Shipp, Joyce Ellen Barger, John Mark Shipp, Jr., and Paul Shipp. He is also survived by his step-daughter Kate Marie Martin, who he treated as if she were from his own loins. He was very caring and willing to sacrifice for his family. He often went without so that his family's needs would be met. He was also always concerned about the comfort of others. Complaining was not something he did. In periods of great adversity he was not one to complain, rather he would work through the difficultly and have an open and optimistic outlook. He could find the silver lining in almost any situation.

As a child I remember very vividly the way he would very calmly handle the most difficult of situations. I remember once when our small weenie dog was severely injured when she was attacked by a German Sheppard in our yard. The Shepherd almost tore off our little dog's leg. We had no money for emergency vet services. I was so worried that our poor little dog would not make it because in my eyes she was bleeding a lot. Dad, on the other hand, simply said she would be alright. He assured us that he would do all he could to make certain everything would be okay. I am certain he said a prayer in his heart. It was shortly after the incident that my father had me and others holding the little dog down in the yard as he sewed her leg with a needle and thread. He wasn't a vet, but he did his best. He was shaken by the incident, but at the same time he remained calm, and his calm attitude helped settle those around him. The dog lived many years after that.

My father had a quiet dignity about him. He never spoke ill of other people. He enjoyed serving others. Our front yard was always littered with neighbors' broken cars as he was quite handy under the hood. My father was a great example of how anyone could be an expert on just about everything. There wasn't anything my father couldn't do or learn to do. He was convinced that he could fix anything. Now, it wasn't really true that he could fix anything, but he would die trying because no task was too difficult. He would do everything he could to learn about anything he did not understand. When neighbors had car problems he never worked on before he would spend tireless hours, even days sometimes, trying to help them figure the problem out. Then he worked incessantly until he could achieve a working solution. Even if he couldn't fix your problem, you knew that his attitude was one that he would keep trying until you asked him to stop, and even then, he would sometimes own your problem and keep working on it.

My father always had time. He never made anyone feel as though he was rushing them. He never made you feel as if you were a burden on his schedule, even if you indeed were a burden; it just wasn't in his disposition for him to tell you how much of a burden you really were. He never let his problems get in the way of helping you. As a matter of fact you would never know he had problems, because he wasn't one to talk about them.

On special occasions like his birthdays, father's day, Christmas, and any other time when he was deserving of a gift, everyone was always at a loss as to what to give him, and the reason for this was he was satisfied. He didn't "want" because he appeared to always have everything he needed, even when he didn't. He obviously didn't need to 'keep up with the Jones,' because he was never in competition with anyone for anything. He would wear his socks, shirts, shoes, and everything else until they were literally worn out, and tattered with many holes. He was content with hand-me-downs from any source. He wouldn't get new underwear unless his wife bought them for him. I assume this was his way of counting his blessings. It was also a great sermon on how every man should live a life free of pride.

My father taught me the importance of loving your family. He made it a priority to visit his mother regularly. When he visited his mother he would do anything she asked of him. He loved his wife. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. He was not happy unless he knew she was happy. It was not unusual for him to worry himself to death about his wife's happiness. He was the same way with his children. My father would even put his family's wants above his own "needs." Again, the comfort of others was the hallmark of his life.

Even now, while he is temporarily gone, and his family and friends are distraught to not have him here to provide us much needed comfort, the truth is he is probably the one more worried about us. He is certainly worried about our individual needs. It no doubt pains him to know that he cannot physically put his arms around us, and tell us softly, “. . . all is okay. . ." It probably hurts him to know that he cannot make our tears go away. He will be greatly missed.

I appreciate so much the many things he taught me by simple, subtle sermon, his example.

Paul