Lewis Alan Badger, 90, of Jordan, New York, passed away on August 16, 2024 with his wife at his side.  Alan was born on June 20, 1934 to Maurice and Kathryn Badger in Canandaigua.  He proudly served in the US Navy, and one day after graduating from St. John Fischer, married his lovely wife, Mary Elizabeth Maybach. In addition to his parents, Alan was predeceased by his beloved son, Timothy.  He is survived by his wife, Mary, his daughters, Mary Clare (William) Higgins, Kathryn (Charles) Brown, Jennifer (Craig) Jones, Martha Markey, Sarah (Shannon) Cullinan, Caroline Hayes, and his son, Jeffrey(Ellen) Badger. Alan is also survived by his brothers, Frank and Martin Badger, and his sister, Neen Oberlies.  Alan and Mary were blissfully married for sixty-two years.  Alan was so very proud of his eight children, his thirty-one grandchildren, and eleven great-grandchildren.  In keeping with Alan’s strong Catholic faith, a Mass of Christian Burial will be held at St. Patrick’s Church , 28 North Main Street, Jordan at eleven o’clock on Tuesday, August 20th.

The following tribute was spoken by Bill Higgins at Alan's funeral_ 

Good morning everyone!

Thank you for coming to celebrate the life of Lewis Alan Badger, known much more affectionately as either Al, Alan, Uncle Al, Dad, Daddy or Grandpa.

Names can be funny, powerful things—
but to me what they most often reveal
is both how someone relates to the world, as well as how they relate to others.

What you can take from the assortment of Al’s aforementioned references
are themes of comfortable informality, easy engagement and the centrality of family.

It is from that vantage point I offer these words of fond remembrance.

***

In recollecting memories, I tried to imagine if there was a single, specific phrase or mantra
that captured Al’s essence…but his entire life—at least the part I knew—
was more full of his “doings”, as opposed to “sayings”.

I’d call them “as you wish” moments.

Let me elaborate if I can—
many of you are familiar with a movie called The Princess Bride, one of Al’s favorites,
wherein one of the characters responded to his beloved’s requests by always saying
“As you wish” as a way to communicate his love for her.

Each was an act of humility,
the finding of joy in service to others that powered this sentiment,
finding happiness in being part of a moment for another,
rather than the center of one for yourself.

Doing things that reinforce the notion of “I love you” in the form of “as you wish”
can be much harder than simply speaking words of love.

I am sure each of us can recall more than a few times where Al did things for you
whilst saying or showing “as you wish”.

***

Born in Canandaigua, NY shortly after the Depression, Alan was the third of seven children, raised primarily by the diminutive yet formidable matriarch of the family,
his dear mother Kathryn.

Although the family endured many hardships together,
they never once wavered in their love for each other.

Al’s love for his siblings endured throughout the decades, and to the very end,
Al cherished every moment he had with his brothers and sister.

From running marathons or playing cards,
traveling many miles to share a breakfast and a laugh,
to simply sitting quietly holding hands with his dear Neen,
their collective love for each other is and was woven deeply,
now stretching far beyond themselves.

***

Upon coming of age, Alan served in the US Navy,
after which he attended college at St. John Fischer University.

It was during this time that he excelled in one of the core courses of life’s curricula—
love and courtship—marrying Mary Elizabeth Maybach, just hours after graduation.

As Mary Elizabeth tells it, they first met in church, and Al was the consummate gentleman.

She never even saw his knees before they were married.

Yet it is abundantly clear from their actions
that they were two people who were deeply in love with each other.

Alan loved his bride above all else and to distraction.

That deep, abiding love and commitment never wavered,
and would become the foundation which bound them together for over 62 years.

In fact, the boundless love that Al and Mary Elizabeth so openly shared for each other
infused the home in which they raised their children, and in such concentrated form,
that it is now a tangible part of every one of them.

They taught love in the best way possible—by example. 

Each of their children learned love in this environment,
and as prodigies born of that love,
have carried it forth into their own families,
passing it forward onto the next generation.

***

Speaking of children, it was not long after they married that these little blessings followed, growing over two decades into a family of ten.

Alan loved each of his and uniquely,
often telling each of them separately that they were his favorite
(and impishly making them promise not to tell anyone else).

To him each declaration was true, because he had favorite things he loved in each of them.

The wealth of memories Al’s children shared over time
were not tales of extravagant trips or doings,
but rather centered around moments of being amongst each other. 

Some of the most consistent themes were of their simple adventures with him—
he would venture forth to mow the lawn, and each of the children, in age order,
would line up behind him to help push him the lawnmower forward in his task.

He would indulge little ones who would offer a singsong “cheep cheep”
for a bit of his dinner, and he fed them like baby birds.

He tolerated four to five teenage girls in the home,
each vying for the telephone line and leaving him no time to make calls for himself.

He sat patiently (or not so patiently) in the car on Sundays,
waiting for numerous children to pile into the car for church,
and then took them afterwards for Sunday morning rides
where he would drive over the bumps on Vinegar Hill Road so fast
that several small heads would hit the car roof.

He joked them through heartbreaks, and he protected them from bullies.

He never, ever demeaned or intentionally hurt them.

The list of examples where Al gave of himself, for his children goes endlessly on.

***

As a grand (and great-grand) father, Al was no different.

He LOVED the babies.

He viewed every baby as a true blessing and miracle from God.

The babies that graced him with their presence on Earth, he cherished. 

The babies whose souls never had a chance to walk alongside him,
he prayed for and remembered fondly in the count
of the many grandchildren he called his own. 

Al was a man who whose arched eyebrows and pursed mouth
could easily convey a towering sternness—
but the moment he held a little one in his arms,
he softened in tone and word, offering only love and safety.

***

Alan also loved his Lord.

A devout Catholic his entire life, he and Mary dedicated themselves unceasingly to the Church.

From attending daily mass to leading mealtime prayer to teaching religious education
for countless years, every aspect of his daily life was devoted to his Faith.

Al’s unwavering faith saw him through many tribulations in life,
including the passing of his beloved son, Tim.

Al stood firm in his belief that Tim’s death was not an ending, but rather a new beginning,
and that he would be reunited with Tim in Heaven.

I have no trouble imagining that Tim was the first to greet his father on the other side,
giving him all of the hugs he has been missing for the past 25 years.

And no doubt Al’s brothers were right there behind Tim,
ready to swoop him up for a laugh and a good long run.

***

I could go on and on with examples of Al’s love,
but I will leave additional remembrances to those
who will be celebrating his life for years to come. 

In the meantime, I’d like to focus on just a few tangible things
which will forever remind us of his presence:

***

The kitchen table—

Kings of old   on risers, exquisitely carved or sculpted,
appointed and adorned with gems.

Such were meant to be blatant trappings of power,
highlighting who was in charge and reinforcing the construct of obeisance.

Al’s throne was the family’s kitchen table, yet it was meant to convey none of those things.

Behind Al’s chair on the wall hung all manner of antiques,
and as he would joke to me often,
his chair was in a fitting spot for the oldest living antique in the house.

The kitchen table was where everyone gathered throughout the day, and often into the night.

All would be seated together, or standing nearby, as a loving group of friends and family.

Informal and without pretense, kids crawling under tables,
shouting and laughing, the happy cacophony of family.

Presiding happily at the end of the kitchen table was often a smiling Alan Badger,
waving over people one at a time to share a joke or story throughout the festivities.

***

His rocking chair—

I mentioned before that Al had the ability to exude a peaceful love.

There is no better place where I imagine him doing so
than when he would sit in his rocking chair, a child wrapped in his arms.

Over the years, dozens of have felt the safety and acceptance
of his gentle enfolding hugs in this chair,
as he would hold his children, his grandchildren and even his great grandchildren there.

Whether it was the measured rocking in silence,
or in tandem with spoken words in a low soothing voice, or lullabies softly sung,
hundreds of moments of sadness passed into his arms and chest,
replaced with calm, drowsy sleep.

***

His popcorn—

Perhaps the most deliciously tangible expression of his love.

Somehow, he concocted magic with an old pot, kernels, and two patchwork bamboo bowls.

This magic satisfied you in ways you couldn’t imagine, it was joyously messy,
and you always wanted to go back for more, which he’d happily provide
in whatever quantities you desired…enough so that it’d still be there later on,
when you needed an extra bit to fill up the corners.

He often used popcorn time for “pull asides”, handing you the warm and salty bowl
while telling you just how wonderful you were, and how awesome life was…

Quick moments and unsolicited bits of unabashed praise and pride,
wrapped up in chewy little sound bites.

***

His eyes—

Al had the kind of eyes that you’d never forget.

They were deep brown pools which were the windows to a soul
adorned with the wisdom of ages past.

His smile was springtime, but his eyes were autumn,
aglint with flecks of the passing summer,
yet full of promise and hope for seasons yet to come. 

Brown eyes the color of mahogany wood—comforting and steady
with a toughness that let you know he would forever be a beam of support. 

Time and trouble melted away in those eyes,
which could tell countless stories with nary a word.

***

His jokes—

Laughter and brevity were traits etched into Al’s bones,
alongside the punchlines of a thousand jokes.

To quote his granddaughter Natalie,
“Grandpa always kept me guessing if he was ever actually going to get to the punch line,
or if it had already passed and I missed the cue to laugh!”

Al’s jokes could be long and circuitous,
but they were always delivered with great joy and laughter,
even if they had been told a thousand times over. 

One of Al’s greatest joys was in getting others to laugh, and in turn laughing himself.

May our memory of his laughter carry forward forever.

***

Al treasured his life and had no desire to leave it—
not for fear of the next step of his journey,
but because he was so happy in the loving environment in which he was situated,
and had helped create.

As I now look out into those congregated here now,
augmented by the memories of those here in spirit,
I feel traces of his spirit here—it carries those typical “Al vibes”,
that comfortable peace of knowing, belonging, good humor, laughter and crinkly eyes.

If I had the audacity to put words Al’s feelings now,
I would guess that the sentiment would roughly translate to parting words like

“Now that I am free of my physical constraints
I can clearly tell each of you that I love you dearly,
and will be with you in your hearts forever.

You all gave my life such meaning and measure. 

I hope that the memories you carry forth of me
will give you the confidence, strength, joy and humor
to achieve all the great things I know you are, each, capable of doing.”

***

In the face of such profound, loving sincerity,
I, like the rest of you, can simply reply…

As you wish Alan Badger, as you wish