By Susan Abbott
My husband was an ordinary man in numerous ways: He struggled with the same challenges that so many people face. He had trouble in college, flunked out and then after serving in the Air Force, went back to school and got his engineering degree; he smoked cigarettes and cigars and gave up the habit at least 3 separate times, but in the last 20 years of his life, he did not smoke; he, like so many, struggled with his weight because he loved foods like ice cream and Kung Pao Chicken. He would lose weight and then 6 months or a year later, it would creep back on. He came from a less than ordinary background as he was the son of a coal miner, the oldest of three boys, and grew up in the back woods of West Virginia. Potatoes and pinto beans often were the main course at his family dinners. He was an ordinary man because he made mistakes as we all do, but he would often laugh them off and try not to let them get him down. He was ordinary and average because he 
was just “down to earth” and he never felt that he was better than anyone else. But because of these ordinary qualities, his humanness pulled people in and he related and connected to everyone! Once you knew him, you couldn’t help but see the extraordinary man he was!
As my husband for 32 years, he would call me at work throughout the week, and simply say “Just calling to tell you I love you.” He would get up on Thanksgiving morning before any of the rest of us were awake and would proceed to make the turkey stuffing and put the turkey in the oven. Not only that, but when he arrived home in the evening, he would take his coat and tie off, come into the kitchen and immediately ask me, “What can I do to help?” He hired a barber shop quartet to come and serenade me on Valentine’s Day at the high school where I was teaching, and then he instructed that same group of barbershop singers to go to the office and bring joy to the CAA staff; he remodeled our house in Palos Verdes so I could have my laundry room in the house and not out in the garage, he willingly typed countless worksheets for me to help me with my teaching duties, and he even sewed curtains for a front door that had three small windows. There was nothing that Charley could not do!! But, you know, he did all of these things joyfully because he loved doing things for others. It was the joy of giving.
He had an innate talent of looking at a seemingly ordinary person and finding the extraordinary characteristics. He was a master at building relationships, and many of you remember the friendship you felt with him. There was a respect and warmth with which Charley treated absolutely everyone from all stations in life. Once he met you, you were his friend.
He was a devoted son and after his mother died of cancer, he would call his dad in West Virginia each day, without fail, and those calls, I can assure you, were the highlight of each lonely day. Jim Nantz, the well-known sportscaster of the Masters and other top sporting events, recently wrote a book about his dad, and he said, “From the time I started college until the time he no longer recognized my voice, I would call Dad virtually every day. I just wanted to check in, share the daily highs and lows, solicit his advice, tell him that I was grateful to him and that I loved him.” Charley did that with his dad too. Not only that, but just two weeks before Charley died, he decided to drop everything and fly home to WV to visit his dad. You see, it was Easter time, and he didn’t want his dad to be alone.
Many of us say, “I wish I had done this or I should have done that,” but Charley was a man of action and he ALWAYS was demonstrating his love. He loved sports of all kinds: in the Air Force, he played the guard position on the basketball team, he loved to go on fishing trips with his friends, and I can bet that if he were still here, he would be one of the first to sign up for Allan’s fishing trips each year. Golf was one of his favorite sports. After playing 18 holes out in the heat of the desert communities around Palm Springs, it wasn’t uncommon for him to say, “Hey, are you up for another 18 holes?” As a father of our two boys, Charley coached every sport and every season they played. He stressed sportsmanship, and to him, the most important thing was not the score but how that game was played.
One more outstanding quality of Charley was his service to the community, and he was a leader in his Rotary club. Rotary International is well known for its exchange programs, and for three years in a row, he volunteered to be a host dad to three wonderful girls: Malene from Denmark, Malin from Sweden, and Linda, also from Sweden. They loved Charley and two years ago at one of the Memorial Golf Tournaments, Malin traveled here from Sweden to pay tribute to Charley. I have not even touched on so many of Charley’s other qualities like his volunteering and tutoring underprivileged kids each week and serving as the president of CAA and all of his work in the church. He was a tireless servant, and he served by example.
Charley has taught us to live the kind of life that really matters – and a good part of that is making a difference in children’s lives! We are seeing Charley’s legacy being lived out in the Memorial Golf Tournaments that are held each year. In the 11 tournaments that have been held, we have made over $160,000 for underprivileged kids! With some of that money, a College Bound room has been built named the Charles Abbott Career Center in San Pedro. The College Bound program helps high school students with the daunting
challenges of preparing for college, and the investment is paying off in that the graduation rate of high school seniors in this program has increased from 50 – 90%! How proud Charley would be to know that he is helping kids succeed in school!
Now it is up to us to carry on his legacy of caring about others – our families, our friends, our clients, our co-workers, and the countless numbers of others who need a helping hand. Jim Nantz tells the story of his friend Tony Dungy when he was coach of the Indianapolis Colts that Tony wanted his players to look at him and his actions and say, “Now that’s a man, and that’s how you live a life.” As we celebrate the ordinary and extraordinary qualities of Charley, I believe that we also will say of him, “Now that’s a man, and that’s how you live a life!”
