On August 6th, 2024, Douglas Eldridge, age 88, escaped this “nut house”, moving on to a place where “things make sense.”- Following his wishes, no service was held, but his family bid him a final “see you later” by spreading his ashes in the Galveston Bay at sunset and toasting him with his favorite Bud Light.

Doug was born May 1, 1936 in Canandaigua, New York to George and Dorothy Eldridge. It was the middle of the Great Depression and jobs were scarce. His dad enlisted in the military, and his young mother was unable to provide for 2 year old Doug and his 4 year old sister, Eva. She had to place them in foster care with Vernon and Helen Schmidt and their teenage son, David. Doug and Eva were able to return home to their mother a few years later. Their mother had remarried to Claude Dixon and they soon had 2 half-siblings, Kenneth and Diane.

Doug and his siblings spent a lot of time with their Native American grandmother who was married to a “Frenchman” and lived in the woods. Doug’s stepdad taught him to hunt and fish which was essential to surviving in those hard times. Doug loved to tell stories about setting traps and the ways they tricked the game warden.  Doug once stole from his own grandmother’s trap, but he said he didn’t know it was hers. “She should have hidden it better.”  They were dirt poor, but if you asked Doug he would say, “We didn’t have it bad, everyone was poor. That’s all we knew.”

When Doug turned 17, he enlisted in the Air Force.   His reason for doing so was simple: He needed shoes.  He served in Alaska and then was transferred to Carswell AFB in Fort Worth, where he would meet his wife Fran at the Holiday Skating Rink. Fran was a 17 year old high school student at Amon Carter, and she was swept off of her feet by Doug and his “James Dean” attitude. Nine months later, on February 18, 1958, they eloped and were married by the Justice of the Peace in Gainesville, Texas. Fran stayed in school, earning her high school diploma that May.  Doug received transfer orders at the end of May and they were off to Puerto Rico, where Fran said they spent a “lovely” honeymoon in the 3rd filthiest city in the world. From there, they were assigned to Seymour Johnson AFB in North Carolina, where they welcomed their first child, a daughter, Tammy.

Doug didn’t much like military life.  Except for marching.  He liked marching. Everything else, especially being bossed around by “idiots” was not to his taste.  He finally had the shoes he had needed, and when his enlistment was up, he moved his young family to Fort Worth, where he found a job in a machine shop.  Doug and Fran added to their family, having two sons only a year apart, Guy and Kevin.  Doug worked had to provide for his family, often working two jobs. He built parts for military jets at Corvair Monday through Friday, and the he worked at a Shell gas station on the weekends.  Fran would bring him a picnic lunch on Sundays so that he could see their kids. Even though he was always working, he still put making time for his family as a priority.

Doug was a man of few words and had the most dry, sneaky sense of humor.  While recovering in the hospital after heart surgery, he asked the nurses if they could put Bud Light in the ice machine.  When they told him they couldn’t do that, he just shrugged and said “I guess this isn’t that kind of place.”  He was always eager to help his son Kevin water his garden so that he could sneak one of his Bud Lights without Fran catching him.  She knew what he was up to though, and when busted, he would spout his classic “Oh Shit.”  At a family dinner when everyone was complaining about their computers and cell phones, someone mentioned his flip phone.  Up until then, Doug had just been sitting silently appearing to listen to their “blather.” One never really knew what Doug actually did or did not hear, but he certainly heard the snide remark about his ancient flip phone.  He took it out of his breast pocket and said, “Well, when I want to make a call, I just punch in the number and that’s it.  I don’t have any reason to be calling this “Geek Squad” ya’ll are all talking about!”  When we all broke out laughing, Doug was unfazed. He just shrugged matter-of-factly and put his phone back in his pocket.  Like his favorite Merle Haggard, he believed in the phi- losophy of “Lay in the weeds and wait, and when you get a chance to say something, make it GOOD.”

Doug loved Marilyn Monroe and even had a pair of Marilyn Monroe cuff links, but he was really crazy about the girl covered in whipped cream on Fran’s album cover of Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass Band.

Six weeks before his daughter Tammy’s wedding, Doug shaved off the beard he had sported her entire life without telling anyone he was going to do it.  Tammy was livid.  She told him to grow it back “quick” or he wasn’t walking her down the aisle. Another “Oh Shit” from Doug, but fortunately, his beard grew back fast.

Doug retired after 38 years from General Dynamics (previously Corvair and now Lockheed).  He spent his retirement years piddling around in his yard, growing peppers, and being on “citi zen watch” with his dog Holly.  He was always ready to lend his family a helping had and his wry outlook on life often brought much laughter to those around him.  When he and Fran moved into an “assisted living” facility, Doug (who was in his 80s) was amazed at all the “old folks” there.  He would watch from the window to see if any of them got tangled up in their oxygen tubing or stuck in their wheelchair.  But when they did, he’d just shake his head instead of offering any help.  After all, “they got themselves into that mess and anyway they were probably faking.”

Doug leaves behind his wife of 66 years, Fran, his daughter Tammy Vetter (son-in-law James), his son Kevin Eldridge (daughter-in- law Dee), six grandchildren and seven great grandchildren. He was predeceased by his son Guy Eldridge, his sister Eva Eldridge, his half siblings Kenneth and Diane Dixon, his father George Eldridge, his mother and step-father, Dorothy and Claude Dixon, and his three beloved dogs, Patches, Molly, and Holly.

Doug Eldridge, “Pop” to his kids, “Bumpa” to his grandkids, was a devoted family man, a lover of nature and dogs, a crafty survivor, a reluctant veteran, a compassionate friend, a steady hand in adversity, a hunter, a fisherman, a skilled machinist, an owner of every ancient tool ever created, a kind, respectful man of high moral character who carried himself with dignity and strength his entire life.  He will be so acutely missed.

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