I’m
sorry to inform you that Ed Rouleau passed away
Friday, August 20, 2004, at 9 a.m.
A pot luck remembrance PARTY will be held on Saturday at noon on August 28, 2004
Services will be Friday, August 27, 2004, at 5 PM, in the Masonic Temple in Dallas, Oregon.
140 SW Clay, in the City of Dallas, Oregon.
in Carole and Rod Gabel's hangar, 831 Stinson St, Independence, Oregon.
Brats and buns provided. Please bring a side dish, salad or dessert.
The above photograph was taken by Ed Rulo’s
wingman, Gordon Clappison, some time after they flew
their Cessna 150’s from Independence, Oregon to Oshkosh, Wisconsin for
the 1990 Experimental Aircraft Association international convention. Ed
is playing “Taps”, as he has so many times for so many different
occasions, on a 1930’s Boy Scout bugle given to him by his wingman and
the wingman’s wife. Who will play “Taps” for Ed Rouleau?
I’ve taken the liberty of reprinting an article I ran on Ed
in the October 2003 issue of The Taledragger.
Mike Pongracz
EAA Chapter 292 Secretary/Treasurer
A TRIBUTE TO A GENTLE MAN
Editor’s
Note: It is my privilege to print the genuine outpourings of affection
for this wonderful man who has been so central to the workings of our
chapter. This doesn’t happen every day. I don’t think
he will be shocked to see the esteem in which he is held by his peers.
--Mike
I first met him at an EAA meeting sometime in the 1970s at
somebody’s home. That was before a chapter hangar, when we had no
permanent home. He walked with a rolling gait and a smile on his
face. He was the keeper of the numbers, and he would report how much
money was in each fund and how much we had spent, down to the last penny.
Outside in one of the darkened vehicles was his bride, patiently waiting for
the meeting to end.
Over time interest grew to build a true home of our own. He
counseled caution, but one could see he was excited about a possible permanent
home for the chapter. When construction began, he was always there,
offering his expertise. He was always early to arrive and late to
leave. He had a hangar on the Independence airport, which was
more like a social center than a hangar. It came complete with sofas,
blankets, and a place to spend the night, always with coffee and doughnuts,
baked beans, and more.
He is Ed Rouleau, my friend.
Time passed, the chapter grew, and more space started to look
good. Again, Ed was cautious, but he promised to help. As the present
hangar took shape, again Ed was early to arrive and late to leave. With
his gimpy gait, he wasn’t quick, but he got the job done. The north
and south hangar doors are a tribute to his engineering and welding skills.
Young Eagles?
No problem to Ed. In his blue jump suit festooned with aviation pins and
patches he flew until no children waited for a ride. (118 Young Eagle
Flights on the books at last count.)
He is Ed Rouleau, my friend.
We’ve grown older together, and now both of us have gimpy
gaits. After all, it’s been over twenty years. Marge’s
beans still taste wonderful. Ed has continued to unselfishly donate his
time, assets, and skills.
I am forever grateful for knowing him. He is my
friend.
Bob Schwarzler
Ed once told me that "a Frenchman can prosper on what a
Scotsman discards." Was it possible that any man (or
nation) could find greater pleasure in "shortfall and lack there
of" than my maternal ancestors? My
Anglo-Scot genes silently took exception to Ed's candor and have since
given me pause to evaluate my own value system many times. In retrospect,
it is this way of teaching that endears me to the Rouleaus.
Like good bread, it is "in the time of the rising"
that their wisdom is proved. Please let me share one special moment.
A wet cold front pushed across the valley and
dampened all hopes for a nice Memorial Day. Our sodden "Old
Glory" was wrapped around the FBO flagpole like a wet dish cloth
and refused to "catch the breeze" Everything about the
commemoration was half heartedly executed. Yellow slicker hoods hid faces
and honor guard shoes squished. Many attendees had slipped away before
the politicians abbreviated their remarks. A retreat to home or hangar for a
hot cup of coffee was the real priority. Even Ed’s taps sounded
alone and far away. The weather had rained on our parade!
Later that same afternoon our telephone rang. It was
Ed. He wanted to know if I would like to drive out to Hill Top Cemetery with him and
Marge. He told me that the
wind and rain had pretty well ruined the avenue of flags celebration earlier in
the day and that he had a foreboding that the "fallen" had not
been properly honored because of the weather.
We arrived at the Hill Top in Ed's blue chariot: windshield
wipers flinging sheets of rain asunder and summer time tires spinning in the
wet grass. The cemetery looked like a yesterday. The avenue's red, white
and blue sentinels hung limp, flower blooms were scattered and the
non-fast colors on grave flags blurred. The Hill Top was a forlorn
place.
Ed thought it fitting that we get on with our task because the
light was failing. After a couple of false starts between heavy
downpours we
pushed the big car doors open and exited with his Olds cornet and a dog
eared magazine in hand. Marge stayed in the car: its dry
security made sense. We picked our way around hill side graves
toward a half blown down cemetery tent. Its shelter would prove
flawed. After several slips and slides we finally gained the high ground
and with little fanfare Ed outlined the program for our
audience. He would first play taps, and then we would conclude our
very wet recital with a personal favorite that lay protected in the folds
of the old magazine. We were alone with Marge as our only living witness.
Taps was sounded and a haunting echo followed every
note! In a sense Ed's recital came back to us. When enough
silence had returned, Ed motioned for me to open the magazine and
hold its unfurled sheet music as best I could out of the blowing
rain. This was best done by my kneeling with my back toward Ed, and
arms stretched overhead. I became a kind of human music rack with knees in the
mud of a new grave and arms reaching skyward. The song which Ed had
chosen was the sublime Negro spiritual "Just a Closer Walk with
Thee."
Rod Gabel
Those who knew Ed, and there are indeed a lot of them, can tell
many tales of their friendship, for he was a friend to all who knew him.
I was lucky enough in life to be Ed’s wingman on a number of occasions.
A typical scene was the 1990 EAA convention, where Ed and I were
able on short notice to leave for the Midwest in our Cessna
150’s three days earlier than planned, because of a death in my
family. After stopping in
The reason the scene was typical was that Ed tied down his 150,
pitched his tent, fired up his propane stove, and before the sun was down, he
was making coffee for dozens of fellow EAAers, who
congregated at “Rulo’s Oshkosh
Hangar,” transplanted from Independence, Oregon, for the rest of the 1990
convention.
A year later, I was trail boss and scout for the 1991 Oregon Trail Fly-out
from
Gordon Clappison
In 1991, when we were planning our move to Oregon, we made our first
visit to the airport in
We saw the Rouleaus across the taxi way
sitting in their hangar so we meandered over to introduce ourselves. They
immediately invited us to sit a spell, to talk and have some hot buttered
popcorn. They didn’t know that popcorn was one of our favorite
things and that invite made them our friends forever.
We have since enjoyed many conversations and many bowls of popcorn
with them.
Other times that made them so special were Independence
Days. Each year they had a group of friends just drop by to enjoy good
food—you could bring what you like—and there was always popcorn and
wonderful cherries. As the day grew to a close, we would pull out various
chairs and benches to the front of the hangar to watch the fireworks at the River
Park in
We will always be grateful to Ed and Marge for making us feel so
welcome in a strange new place.
Phyllis and Alan Upright
I have had the privilege to work with Ed Rouleau
on many activities related to our EAA Chapter 292, Independence State and the Oregon
Trail Flights. Ed always was one of the first to volunteer as a helper or
to take leadership in an activity or project. Ed flew his Cessna 150 in
several of our Historic Flights and because his 150 was usually one of the
slower aircraft in the flight, he, along with Julie Wilder who also flew a 150,
would be assigned to bring up the rear. We could always depend on Ed to
let us know when all of the planes and pilots were accounted for at the end of
each day’s flight. This was no small task when there were as many
as 40 aircraft in the flights.
We usually had a discreet frequency assigned to our flights by FCC
and Ed would be on the radio to keep us informed on pertinent trail information
and safety. This was usually in a humorous tone, as verse or song. This
he carried over to the evening activities and would lead everyone in song or
telling tall tales. To help with his tall tales, he brought along pioneer type
props to provide color to his tales.
Ed usually camped with his plane when allowed by the airport
management. One night he was camped at Ft. Bridger, Wyoming
airport along with Mike and Barbara Spencer from
Ed was the Treasurer for the EAA Chapter 292 for several years,
helping the Chapter increase the membership and in raising funds for
construction of both hangars. Ed could also be depended on to do special
welding and other metal fabrication. One example was planning, ordering,
construction and raising the 7S5 Flag Pole. He was a Bugler in the Army
and helped our Memorial Day Flag Ceremony by playing Taps.
Ed and his wife Marge are commended for providing the knowledge,
skill, humor and energy to lead all of us to accomplish our goals and dreams
for the Chapter, Airport and General Aviation.
Andy Andersen, Past President of Chapter 292 and
Wagon Master for