Jack Rulien was funny, kind and dangerously clever. He was a son, a father, an adventurer, and a child of God. That last part was his source for everything else. He was born September 16, 1932 in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Growing up (and grown up) Jack was a class clown (and, as we understand, a very good class clown at that). He spent his summers swimming around Half Moon Lake. Once he skied off the Eau Claire ski jump with an Olympic jumper. “Once was enough,” he said. He loved his bicycle, his ocean and his family. At age 18 Jack married Maureen and together they built a family of four children—David, Jaclyn, Joseph and Mary—and, over 62 years, watched it flourish into a family of four children, 11 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. As he guided his own children, he also became a father to many of their friends. He spent his 4th of Julys blowing up a few too many things for the entertainment of the neighborhood children who would regularly ask if Jack could “come out and play.” In his tenacity, Jack taught respect and self-sufficiency. Despite his gruffness, he bestowed constant comfort and radiated humbleness. He taught us all his ability to see both sides of an argument and the importance of finishing what we start. He imparted on us the importance of family—to stand by your name, because it’s all you really have in life—and that hard work certainly never killed anyone (except in retail because they work you too many hours for too little pay). He taught us discipline and how to not only be happy, but also appreciate it. He was a founding member and 4th-degree Knight of the Knights of Columbus, St. Paul's Chapter 5535. He worked every bingo night for many years, helping the K of C Jacksonville Beach become one of the most giving chapters in the state of Florida. He was instrumental in getting the K of C to pay for a basketball coach at St. Paul’s RC School for several years. Jack was an active member of Jacksonville Beach politics for a brief period before deciding he couldn’t stand “watching the sausage being made.” He continued his work as a butcher instead. Most importantly though, Jack, Dad, Papa, taught us to laugh at and never take ourselves too seriously, “don't get mad, get better,” and the best place to go when you are in trouble is to God. He never stopped laughing.

Dad’s Legacy Jack J. Rulien Sept. 16, 1932 – Dec. 29, 2014 A Smile My Dad did not build tall buildings or bridges across great rivers, nor did he create legislation that would save the down-trodden from misfortune; Dad did something far greater and more complex that required day to day discipline and constant awareness of those around him – he made us all smile. A smile is a wonderful gift, we all know that it reduces blood pressure, clears our mind and generally make us feel good about ourselves. It is a gift that we can’t get enough of and one that is always welcome. Now many will say that anyone can produce a smile and that may be true, but not everyone can produce a smile when it is dearly needed, Dad however could make anyone and everyone smile. He didn’t need to know you to make you smile; he just needed your attention for a few brief moments to know what he needed to do to make you smile. In my early years, I was lucky enough to have a front row seat watching my Dad make people smile. During those years, I just thought he was clowning around and making jokes for no apparent reason (and yes, you could still try and make that argument), but if you were around him enough and you took the time to see what he was doing, it became clear that he simply just loved to make people smile. My Dad knew that if he made you smile for one moment, it would take your mind off the trouble at hand. He knew that it may give you a moment to relax when you didn’t quite know how to move past the trouble you might be dealing with at that particular time. Smiling came from being happy with who he was and what he expected from his friends and family. Growing up under my Dad’s direction was one of respect, love and happiness, similar to how our founding fathers thought the country should be run, but I digress. He expected respect from all of us and in return he respected each of us. His love was given generously and unselfishly. Respect and love drove us towards being happy. I can remember the many times I’m sure I had disappointed my Dad and the many times I was disciplined for those transgressions. After the fine had been paid though, my Dad always made me smile and reminded me that things would be better if I focused on making them better. Doing the same stupid thing twice was not the way to a smile. And as you know, he was right. My father was not a man of letters; he went to the school of life and became a very good student. He read all of the time and never missed an opportunity to hear the thoughts of another or to argue his point of view. When tempers started to flair though, he was the first to slow the heat and put a smile on everyone’s face. This would allow time for reflections and that brief moment would stop the animosity and bring back the fellowship that brought everyone together in the first place. Dad could make anyone smile: doctors, lawyers, professors, ditch diggers, meter readers and trash collectors. He spoke to everyone in their language, never over someone’s head or below them. He often said that everyone deserved respect regardless of their walk in life. Dad was like a positive energy bunny, if you could plug into him for a couple of minutes, he would soon have you thinking about how you could overcome the problems ahead and you always left with a smile on your face. He was always frank and honest with his advice, never looking for a return, just a smile of thanks. Dad made us smile up to his very last breath. Near the end of Dad’s life, almost everyone had gathered together: kids, grand kids, great grandkids and in-laws around what would become his death bed. The life-enabling machines had been removed and turned off and the last grains of sand were emptying out of the jar of Dad’s life. Sad faces watched a great man return to his maker. One of the grandkids who had stuck her tongue out at Dad so many times before for a laugh, did so one more time. Dad could have easily taken a pass but instead saw an opportunity to remove the sadness from the room. He returned the favor and stuck out his tongue as one last gift to his family . . . a smile for everyone. He died peacefully shortly after, leaving us with his legacy – a smile. His gift to everyone in his life is something that I hope to pass on to as many as I can during the rest of my life. I will miss the man who taught me so much about life and gave me so many smiles. Love ya Dad! DR

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to St. Paul’s Catholic Grade School, Jacksonville Beach or Child Guidance Center Jacksonville.