Gary Huss Sr at the Sanctuary in the 1980s PHOTO: Ted Staver
A Eulogy of Victory delivered by Rev. Canon Ted Staver
A Memorial Service was held for the Reverend Gary Huss Sr. (June 28, 1954 – March 31, 2015) on April 11, 2015, at the Chapel of the Holy Child. In attendance were Community members, among them his son, Gary Jr., and his wife, Diane. During the Memorial Service, the following Eulogy of Victory was delivered by Rev. Canon Ted Staver:
GARY HUSS Sr. was born on June 28, 1954, in DeRuyter, New York, a tiny town in the center of the state. He was a twin, but his twin sister, Carrie, died at birth. Gary grew up on a dairy farm but sought wider vistas so he enlisted in the army at age eighteen.
I met Gary in the army in 1975, when we were both stationed in South Korea. He was originally at Camp Casey, about forty miles north of Seoul, but later transferred to the 702nd Maintenance Detachment where I was. We both worked in the same shop. We hit it off immediately. Later on, we took up studying martial arts together. Bruce Lee was our hero of choice, and we spent a lot of time discussing Lee’s philosophy and concepts. From there we branched off into a study of Buddhism and some other Eastern teachings. Gary was always searching for the greater meaning of it all.
He told me that before coming to Korea he was stationed in Okinawa and that one day, for no special reason, he went out to view the sunset over the South China Sea. He told me: “The sun looked huge. Then something happened. In a flash I saw this symbol. I didn’t know what it was or what it meant, but it changed me somehow.” That became his inner driving force. He really began diving deeply into the Eastern mystics, men like Sri Yukteswar Giri, Swami Yogananda, Lahiri Mahasaya, and others. He loved reading about their mystical experiences and talking to me about those things.
One day, Gary found a discarded copy of Fate magazine in the barracks, thumbed through it, and saw the ad for the book Jamil: The Child Christ and recognized the Second Advent cross as being similar to what he had seen in the sun during the Okinawan sunset. He ordered the book immediately. I remember the day he got the package. He grabbed it and was gone. Several hours later he was standing out on the third-floor balcony yelling across the field to me, “Hey, Ted, it’s the sun; that’s the key.” It was about one o’clock in the afternoon, and I looked into the sun and just knew. Shortly after that we joined The Community, and thus our long journey began.
Gary moved to Reno in 1978. I followed a year later. There was a lot going on here in the Eighties; it was the “building phase” of The Church. Gary and I often found ourselves working together on the building projects, whether it was the chapel, the Episcopal See Building, or out at The Sanctuary. His favorite, though, was working with Stan Fortmeyer in the Production Department. He really liked Stan, as they shared so many similar viewpoints and taste in music.
Besides working on Church projects, he and I liked to go out to the Fremont drag races. It was a nice place to let off a little steam. (Nothing like standing next to a 4,000-horsepower dragster belching out clouds of nitro into the air to help you relax!) We’d go down into the pit areas and watch the crews tear apart motors, replace blowers, all kinds of close-up stuff. We even got a chance to shake hands with Don Garlits and Shirley Muldowney, two of the greats in drag racing history. After a day at the drag races we’d come back all charged up and do a little drag racing with our own cars. But probably the best were those Saturday afternoon Community softball games. We all loved those. It was a great way to just let go and have some friendly competition. Afterwards Gary and I would find a cool place and a cold beer, and he would talk about baseball. He was a walking encyclopedia when it came to baseball. His hero was Hall-of-Fame pitcher Nolan Ryan. He had all the books and all the stats on the guy memorized. You always walked away knowing a little bit more about baseball.
That was in the early years—the good years. We were both married at the time. Gary was married to Sun Cha, and in 1982 she became pregnant. When she was in the hospital, going into labor, Gary wanted the nursing staff to play George Harrison’s “Cracker Box Palace” over the loudspeakers; one of the lyrics went: “I welcome you to cracker box palace! We’ve been expecting you.” Of course they wouldn’t do it, but that was Gary. I recall the first day they brought Gary Jr. home. Rev Gene Sr. along with some staff showed up to anoint him and welcome him into the world. I think it was about two years later that Sun Cha left, and Gary became a single dad. So over the next ten years or so, we didn’t see a whole lot of each other; we were both just too busy.
There was this window in Gary’s life where things just weren’t working out for him, and he was really struggling. I like to refer to it as “the George Carlin period” because he loved George Carlin. Gary had all Carlin’s skits, all the hand gestures and facial expressions down pat. Carlin became his voice to help him express what he was going through. During this time he could be just a little hard to be around at times, but, hey, we all have our demons.
Then he met Diane, and she became the lifeline that rescued him from a stormy sea. To quote Willie Nelson: “Love’s the greatest healer to be found.” Diane was the love of Gary’s life; the kind of gal that would head off to the drag races with him or pack up and venture off to visit historic places. She said, “He was always happy; sometimes he would be walking down the hallway throwing kicks and punches—I guess he thought he was Bruce Lee! I told him, ‘You’re too old for that stuff; you’re gonna hurt yourself.’” One of Gary’s childhood friends commented: “One of the things I will remember most about Gary is that he would do whatever it took to make us happy. Gary never lost his ability to be child-like. I will miss his sweet hugs.” And don’’t forget Gary’s favorite quote: “Beam me up, Scotty!”
I remember planting trees with Gary down by the pond at the Sanctuary; he was so gentle and careful with the trees, and all the time we worked he talked to me about a Civil War book he was reading. I really learned a lot from that.
Diane was telling me that she and Gary had been together for about ten years when one morning at the breakfast table, Gary got up to pour a cup of coffee, turned around, and said, “You know what? We should get married.” And they did, on May 23, 2010.
One thing I didn’t know about Gary was that he could cook. Apparently, when he was working for McPherson Art Supplies, they would hold these company picnics, and they would have these judging contests of the food people brought in. Gary won a plaque for the best chicken wings.
Gary had a love of American history—especially the Civil War—and like baseball or auto racing, he pursued it with a passion fueled by a child-like curiosity. When he would talk about these subjects he could appeal to your sense of curiosity; he could draw you in to share his passion for the subject. He was really good at that. He was a teacher in his own way. He had that quality in Korea and never lost it. Over the past few years he turned his attention to astronomy. Sometimes he would show up at chapel and in the parking lot would show me all these photos he had downloaded from the Hubble Telescope and others; images of quasars, black holes, distant nebulae, photos of suns a hundred light years away that were so big they’d make our sun look like a golf ball, galaxies colliding and merging with each other. He would begin explaining phenomena like an astrophysicist. That was Gary: all the way or not at all.
I did not know until recently that he was in the beginning stages of writing a book. He has hundreds of notes compiled, and it has something to do with generative existence, but I am not very clear on where he was going with it.
But his greatest love was always the Christian mystics—or any mystic—and their transcendental experiences with the divine. If there was a book written on a mystic, he had it. That’s where his heart was; that’s the Gary I knew. He had a deep love and respect for Rev. Gene Sr., for this Church, the Teachings, and the people in this Community.
Gary left us with an heir, Gary Jr., and now Gary Jr. has a son of his own, so the Huss legacy continues on.
Gary Sr. had been an active member of The Community since April 1976, and part of the Reno community since March 1978. He performed numerous liturgical services at the Chapel of the Holy Child and at the Red Rock Sanctuary. He received third-level ordination in October 2007 and was a member of the crew of the Feathered Serpent II and an active member of the Andean Explorers since 1977. Gary and I grew up together in The Church and in this Teaching. Forty years is a long time: good times, bad times, and everything in between; things that can test a friendship, but in the end it was still there.
I would like to conclude with this prayer taken from the liturgy at Zion that was a favorite of his. I think it reflects his present state of being:
So in that world to which there is no end, ye shall receive great light,
but those who have been saved by their works,
and to whom the law has been now a hope,
and understanding an expectation,
and wisdom a confidence,
shall wonders appear in their time,
for they shall behold the world which is now invisible to them,
and they shall behold the time which is now hidden from them,
and time shall no longer age them,
for in the heights of that world shall they dwell,
and they shall be made like unto the angels,
and be made equal to the stars,
and they shall be changed into every form they desire,
from beauty into loveliness,
and from light into the splendor of glory.
