My stepfather, Elmer C. Selim, Jr., passed away on Sunday, September 14, 2014. He was 76. I spoke at his funeral this week, and here are some excerpts.
I've known Elmer since I was a teenager, at first through growing up around his kids. His oldest son David and I are the same age and we graduated high school the same year. His kids David, Nancy and Dan and I went trick or treating together. I took Nancy to her senior prom. Dan and I were both into music and borrowed each others' CDs. And one of the first ways I got to know Elmer was as he gave me a ride to school with his own kids after our morning church seminary classes before school every day.
I got to know Elmer better when I was 18 and was called to a volunteer position at church as his assistant stake clerk, to help watch over the financial and administrative dealings of all the various congregations across the region. This was an unusual position for somebody at age 18, but Elmer took me on and tutored me. It prepared me for assignments I would have later.
When I was 19 I left Missouri for two years to be a missionary, and it was a surprise when I got home that Elmer was engaged to my mom. It's been 25 great years since.
Elmer and my mom came to each other through similar circumstances, and I never heard him say a negative word about former spouses. Through the years he consistently encouraged me to maintain a relationship with my own father. He told me privately on many occasions how much he loved my mother, and he illustrated that commitment in his actions, and in his forbearance as part of a blended family.
Even though I wasn’t raised by him, he was kind to me as a son, and I felt he was proud of me in that same way. With so many broken homes in the world today, Elmer demonstrated how to repair and restore a family living under these circumstances: with love, and patience, and kindness. I’m grateful for his model.
Elmer’s 50-year career got its start emptying wastebaskets in an accounting practice. He steadily worked his way up, studying for and passing his CPA exam, joining as a partner in one of Springfield, Missouri’s largest accountancy firms, and becoming one the most trusted and respected opinions in his community.
I can’t tell you how proud Elmer was last year to start his own company — at age 75. He never stopped working, and he took pride in serving his clients, serving his church, and in having very productive life. We’ve been sharing photos of Elmer on Facebook over the past few days, and laughing because it’s hard to find a picture of him not in a suit.
Elmer was humble. Many didn’t know he was an Army veteran. Last year at an event they asked all the veterans to stand and be recognized. I elbowed him to get on his feet, but he wouldn’t. It’s not that he wasn’t proud of being a veteran, he just didn’t like to draw attention to himself. He valued his personal accomplishments personally, and not for recognition. Elmer had such common sense. For many years he drove a 1985 Toyota Camry, he didn’t want to get rid of it after he passed 250,000 miles and was still running perfectly, except everyone at the office thought he needed a nicer car to look more successful. He finally gave in and got a beautiful new Avalon, but far into its purchase he still questioned whether he should have bought the new car.
His last car was a Toyota Prius hybrid, which he was so proud of — every time he saw me he bragged about its fantastic MPG and how cheap it was to drive. Behind its wheel he was in accountant’s heaven.
On vacation in July we stayed up until midnight every night talking, and Elmer shared his stories of finding our church, courting and marrying my mother, his testimony of Jesus Christ. Little did I know the great gift these talks would be to me as he got sick, quickly declined, and passed away six weeks later.
Elmer was unassuming, humble, consummately professional and ethical, full of common sense, highly respected, a loving husband and father and grandfather, a pillar of strength in his family and community.
At Elmer’s visitation a friend summed up his life to me so effectively in five words: “A mighty man, but quiet.”
To know Elmer and the way he lived, one of the noble and great ones has flown.
