In Honor of Pieter
Good morning everyone. I would first like to thank you all for showing up on this special day. I speak on behalf of my mother and my extended family when I say we appreciate each one of you taking the time to attend in remembrance of my father’s life. If he were able to see all of the wonderful faces in this room, I know he would be moved greatly.
Honor, dignity, integrity, patience, resilience, levelheadedness, selflessness and a warrior spirit: These are but a few characteristics my father held in high esteem and embodied.
He was always a disciplined, focused individual — the epitome of a Renaissance man. He was a masterful director, writer, singer, actor, artist and professor, but most of all, he was the greatest father anyone could ever ask for.
Throughout my development, dad has been a constant guiding force. He imparted to me reason, logic, intellect and compassion, among other traits. In addition to these attributes, I have inherited his humor, lightheartedness and appreciation for the little things.
I have fond memories of waking up on Saturday mornings and watching television with him. I consider myself quite lucky to have had a father willing to record every single episode of Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers for me. It’s important to note this was during the early ’90s; there was no TiVo or DVR, so everything was done manually. He even took the time to pause the recordings during commercial breaks so the program flowed uninterrupted.
During these programs, I would interact with my various action figures. If a Megazord was being assembled during the show, I would simultaneously try to assemble my toys in similar fashion, but to no avail. To assist me in this incredibly important endeavor, dad would walk to the VCR and pause the show so I could catch up.
It’s moments like this — while seemingly mundane — that mean the most to me.
I remember playing at the park across the street from our first apartment in Torrance, kicking the soccer ball around with endless enthusiasm. He pushed me on swing-sets, caught me as I slid down slides and held me up as I crossed monkey bars.
One of my favorite reoccurring events with dad was when the family would take weekend vacations to the South Bay. We stayed at Hotel Hermosa and spent several hours in the swimming pool. I didn’t know how to swim, let alone float, but dad would adopt the role of a whale and take me on his back as he swam laps. “Hold on tight,” he would always say.
That was the man who raised me — my protector, my champion, my hero.
Newton said “If I have seen further it is by standing on ye sholders of Giants.” If you’ve seen photographs from my childhood, you know majority of them are of me on my dad’s shoulders. Now, more than ever, I feel like I am atop those very peaks.
This is why I refute the idea that my father is somehow gone.
I walk throughout my home and see dad in every corner: I see him in the Congo drums of the African room, the Native American spears and bows and arrows mounted on the walls of the dining room, the Oriental rugs in the living room and den.
It is not possible for my father to be absent; to proclaim such would be to ignore the blood coursing through my very veins.
My father lives through my pen and keyboard strokes and dances on my tongue. He lives through the melodies of his daughter’s voices and their artistic expression. He lives through his eldest son’s quiet intensity and methodical mind. He lives through the unrelenting love and care of my mother. And he lives through each and every one of you.
To a degree, we are all Dr. Pieter Van Niel. Of course, I could never write as eloquently as him, but hey, I’m trying!
So on that note, allow me to close this speech with a poem written by my father. This is Cardiff by the Sea:
sunsets, seagulls, a loon, and
an occasional choo choo train
with its indignant whistle
rushing by on the tracks
below
noises backgrounding many
contemplative layers;
after decades of traveling
my personal journey of
learning|teaching
I can sit quietly on the
side of an inn-bed,
and, like some ancient
journey-taker,
think of things past and
things to become, and,
somehow,
enjoy the simplicity of a
kind of elegant
now…
