Since the loss of my dad, Richard Paul Klump, in April of 2022 and the sudden passing of my mom, Lillian Mary Klump, on Mother’s Day of this year, I’ve had time to reflect on their contribution to the world and the impact that they’ve had on my life. However, I must remind everyone that this is a memorial service and therefore a CELEBRATION. We all should leave here today exchanging stories and memories of both Rich and Lil and how they impacted our lives, so I look forward to talking with each and every one of you after the service and introducing you to my wife Lindsay and our daughters here at church.
In preparing my comments today, I found three words which summarize the deeply held beliefs that they both had and which were instilled in me at a young age. Those three words are:
- Grit
- Hope
- Faith
While the personalities of my parents couldn’t have been more polar opposite, they did share some common traits. They both grew up in devoutly Catholic families in different parts of rural Missouri. My mom grew up outside of Jefferson City, living at her grandparents’ farm after her parents lost their home in the Great Depression. My dad grew up in Perryville, a small town of 5,000 about 80 miles south of St. Louis, as the 10th of 12 kids. They both worked hard at an early age on the farm, growing up in humble means, but had a close appreciation for animals and the great outdoors. They both migrated to St. Louis later in life, but as mentioned, their life paths were quite different.
My mom was incredibly intelligent and was passionate about teaching. She decided to pursue her college degree at the expense of taking ‘the easier path’ at different points in her life. She was extremely beautiful and even worked as a model for a while in her 20’s, but while she had many suitors who proposed to her, she preferred to keep working until she could save for her tuition. She followed her dream of teaching and both studied and worked tirelessly to pay for school until the age of 34, when she obtained her college degree in teaching. She was always quiet and more introverted, so many never heard her say a word when she stood quietly by my dad’s gregarious nature of storytelling and greeting others. Her intellect clearly stood out and I always listened to her every word whenever she spoke, as she always had a smile on her face and offered an encouraging word for me.
My dad had a different story. After he graduated from high school, he took a more circuitous path to St. Louis by first enlisting in the Army for 4 years, traveling around the country and jumping out of airplanes 23 times, just to earn the extra $45 per month. After the military, my dad didn’t know what he wanted to do, so he returned to his hometown of Perryville, where he enrolled in the Vincentian Seminary to become a priest. Thankfully for me, after 7 years he was told that the priesthood was not for him, and at the age of 32 he fortunately met my mother and promptly married her, as she was 40. When asked how his day was, he’d immediately respond “I’m blessed and highly favored” and then would immediately launch into his next story with his constant gift for gab.
Grit
I learned about grit from my father at the tender age of 9. While I had earned pennies and nickels by performing chores around the house since I was 4 or 5 years old, I first helped cut our grass at home at the age of 8 and could earn a whole quarter. We had a small yard, so this was an easy job with our old ‘push-mower’; however, I was thrilled when I could earn two dollars out of his $15 fee for cutting a big yard for one of his cab customers, Joan Carlson. He had just bought a self-propelled lawnmower with a 2 horsepower engine and this would be my first time using it. As I was tall for my age, he trusted me, but I truly had no idea how to operate this machine. He started the engine and tied the self-propulsion gear to ‘on’ by wiring the handle shut, so there was no option to stop. Instead of me pushing the machine, I was dragged along and I struggled to keep my grip on the handle. With the constant speed and the fresh dew on the morning grass, I could barely keep up. The heavy vibrations of the engine resonated throughout my body and I barely could hear myself think. After two minutes of me struggling along the length of the lawn, I felt my dad’s giant hand grabbing my arm as he whipped the mower to a stop by unwinding the wire with his other hand: “What on God’s green earth are you doing?”
He motioned to the lawn and yelled, “You need to control the mower and cut in a straight line, not a giant curve, so let me show you how to do it.” My heart was thumping as I watched him cut a straight line across the lawn, where I had left the shape of a crescent moon in the grass. He then returned to where I was standing and told me a quote from Matthew 5:48 which I will NEVER forget: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly father is perfect.” My dad’s pursuit of perfection even in small things like cutting grass was an important lesson for me. Over the ensuing 7 summers, he observed as I applied that same principle to my own landscaping business, and Handy Andy’s Lawn Care Services expanded to 40+ customers and helped me pay my high school tuition.
One other memorable story of GRIT from my dad occurred during a hot evening in the summer of 1993 when I was 17. I had worked all day, from 6am at the car wash until cutting grass before sunset. I cleaned my equipment, showered and collapsed on my bed, ready to fall asleep at 10pm, when I heard a loud banging on the roof directly above my bedroom. The loud noise was clearly the continuous sound of a hammer and I ran outside to find spotlights on our roof. I was shaking with anger and could barely climb the ladder, and there in the middle of the night was Richard Klump pulling shingles in one corner of the roof, hammering away. He looked at me and calmly stated that “the weather was too hot during the day, but I need to reshingle the roof tonight as the weather is cooler.”
At that point, I knew my dad’s stubborn nature and that he wouldn’t stop until the job was done, so I gritted my teeth and went down the ladder. I found a second hammer in the garage and scampered back up as I realized that “if I can’t beat him, then I must join him.” I started pounding shingles on the roof right next to him at a furious pace for the better part of two hours, sweating and hammering in the humid night. We did finish half of the roof that night shortly before 1am, before he decided to call it a night. He never asked me to finish the second half of the roof and I never heard the hammer above my bed at 10pm again, so I think that we both learned a valuable lesson that night.
Hope
While my mom knew that we didn’t have much money, she still chose not to work after my sister and I were born. She focused her energy on caring for us and providing a loving home as long as she could. During grade school, I remember her going back to work in real estate and celebrating her first home sales with our first train ride to Jefferson City to visit her parents and brother. She later used her side income to supplement our home expenses, but managed to save enough on the side for my sister and me to take music lessons. I had no idea how big of a stretch this commitment was for her, as we bought a secondhand piano, but I reluctantly practiced daily to prepare for my weekly lesson with our teacher.
To my mom’s disappointment, I didn’t have a knack for the piano; however, she never insisted that I keep playing and instead encouraged me to try the guitar. I saw this shift in a positive light and tried my best with learning. She told me that she hoped developing a musical skill might broaden my horizons in a new way. I tried my best and managed to make some progress; however, I still wasn’t as diligent in practicing daily.
Around the one-year point, we went for our lesson and she showed up at the end to pick us up. With a rare display of emotion, she told the teacher that she could no longer afford to pay for lessons, and I saw her crying in front of us. I felt the deepest pain in my heart as I watched her, realizing that I had taken my lessons for granted and hadn’t applied myself as much as I could. I later went to her and apologized for not trying harder, and she told me, “This is not your fault, but we just didn’t have enough money to afford this luxury. I want you to remember that Jesus loves you and HE can help you to create a better future for your children.” And this was my realization: her HOPES and DREAMS for a better life would NOT be interrupted by the challenges facing us at that time. Little did I know that those months of music lessons helped me gain a valuable skill when I moved to China, as my ‘musical ear’ helped me pick up the tonal language of Mandarin. I had a number of teachers who told me that ex-musicians were the ones to pick up the language the quickest.
China
Both of my parents were shocked when I told them about my interest in working in China. Growing up in St. Louis, I rarely had the chance to take a vacation or travel anywhere, as we didn’t have money for such a luxury. I attended Boy Scout camp for 7 straight years at S-Bar-F Scout Ranch about 80 miles from St. Louis, as this was my ONLY vacation of the year for an entire week. We made day-long trips to Jefferson City and Perryville once per year, so this was the extent of my childhood travel. In fact, by the time that I was 15, the only 3 states that I had been to were Missouri, Illinois and Kansas; however, Kansas was only on this list because my dad drove me to Kansas City to celebrate graduation from 8th grade and watch Bo Jackson play baseball for the Kansas City Royals. During that trip, we watched two ball games, but I begged him to drive over the Kansas border for 10 minutes, JUST to say that I had been there.
Nonetheless, this dearth of travel didn’t stop my DREAMS, as every month my dad would receive National Geographic magazine and I was amazed at the pictures and stories from around the world. I’m certain that my first exposure to China came at that time, but I didn’t travel to China until business school, and then I made a firm commitment to live in China full time after spending two months in Shanghai during the summer of 2002. I took a low-paying job at Dell Computer in the fall of 2003 and called home once per week on an international calling card, as this was well before the adoption of the smartphone. I had a quota-carrying position with Dell and was told that if I didn’t hit my quota after 2 quarters, then I’d be fired. I failed MISERABLY my first quarter, hitting only 21% of my $500k target. My boss disliked me from the start and he raised my quota to $600k, and I felt demotivated during the start of my second quarter. I was working 16-hour days and still studied Mandarin for an hour at night and in the morning. I was stressed beyond all belief and started to lose my hope; however, on October 28, 2003, my mom told me a story about my dad that stood out forever.
She told me that ever since he was a kid, he wanted to become a well-respected state trooper who drove a big police car and had a lot of power by writing tickets; however, he NEVER had anyone who encouraged him to follow his dream. He ended up bouncing between jobs after he left the seminary and didn’t find a home until he could drive a taxi with St. Louis County Cab. That role of driving a cab was his CLOSEST path to following his dream, as his taxis were ex-cop cars with the same motor and frame, but just with different paint on the outside. My mom then told me, “God took you to China for a PURPOSE and YOU ARE FOLLOWING YOUR DREAM! Do NOT give up on your dream just because of your obstacles. God will help you achieve your goals.” I wrote a yellow sticky note with that ‘FOLLOW YOUR DREAM’ reminder on the door of my one-room studio apartment in Beijing and thought of her story every morning as I left for work. God inspired me through her words and my sales started to take off that next week as I approached my work with a deeper sense of purpose. I continued working through the Christmas holiday and, with 3 days left in the quarter, I closed a big deal with a brand new client and managed to hit my quota. I called my mom that night and exclaimed that I DID follow my dream and that she was such a key part of my success! She was so excited for me and shared my joy, as we both knew that God had a special plan for me.
Faith
Finally, of all of the traits from my parents that I’d like to share with you, the most important one was their deep passion for Jesus and a belief that Jesus loved my sister and me dearly. They both prayed to Jesus daily and every time that we entered the car, my dad would state: “Dear Jesus, please send 10,000 angels to protect us and bless all of the other drivers on the road, so we reach our destination safely.”
I always took this message for granted until he told me a story about receiving a call to pick up a man on the side of the highway. The man was angry at the arrival of my dad and, after sitting in the backseat, held up a gun to his head and said, “Drive me to your cab garage, as I want to shoot your dispatcher who made me walk 7 miles until you came.” My dad understood that this was a matter of life and death and told him, “Sir, I will do exactly as you ask,” and so he started driving to the cab garage. He started talking with the man and tried to understand what was bothering him and kept encouraging the man to talk. Sure enough, the guy was having a bad day and told a long story about how he lost $80,000 on a business deal and was ready to shoot someone. My dad kept asking questions and responding to him in his steady, deep voice. Finally, as they approached within a mile of the cab garage, the man put away his gun and told him, “Just let me off here,” and slowly exited his car.
As I heard my dad tell the story, I asked him, “Were you afraid?” My dad looked at me with a smile on his face and responded, “Andy, you better believe that I was scared. I had no idea what was going to happen.” He then continued, “If the good Lord calls me, I am prepared to leave, but today just wasn’t His time.” He told me in a positive way that I should never be afraid to stand up to danger as “Jesus was with him,” so I always followed the same practice as I later would travel around the world and confront different challenges. However, at that time, I grew up thinking that I should thank my lucky stars that I still had a dad, and of course, you can understand why I had the motivation that I should NEVER DRIVE A TAXI.
Summary
In conclusion, I thought about my Uncle Bob, who constantly told me that Lil was a saint for all that she endured in her life, especially in marrying my dad and dealing with all of our struggles to make ends meet on his salary. While I wouldn’t describe my dad as a saint at times, he was a deeply spiritual person and absolutely believed that Jesus would always take care of him in any circumstance. They both loved me deeply, as well as my wonderful wife Lindsay. They prayed constantly for us, and one of the highlights of my life was celebrating my wedding with Lindsay and seeing the joy on the faces of my mom and dad in Dallas, as I never remember them having so much fun, and that happy memory of them stays with me to this very day.
Now, in addition to being a husband of 15 years, I am the father of four loving daughters, Angelika, 12, Natalya, 10, Frances, 7 and Lilian, 5. I can only pray that I can raise them with the same deeply held spiritual beliefs that Lil and Rich shared with me. I want to give my daughters the loving support that they need to FOLLOW THEIR DREAMS and CHANGE THE WORLD, just as God would want them. I loved my parents deeply and am eternally grateful for their amazing gifts, especially their GRIT, HOPE and FAITH. I firmly believe that they are looking down on all of us with loving smiles from heaven and their legacies will continue to live through my family for many generations to come.
Hopefully my stories add to your own, and if you are asked how you are today, please respond, “I am blessed and highly favored.”