Everett H. Broder's Obituary
Husband and Father
Grandfather and Great Grandfather
Everett Broder’s final six months were pleasantly eventful. He moved from Tucson to Phoenix, celebrated his 90th birthday and then his 65th wedding anniversary. He made many new friends and kept in touch with old friends.
After a painless stroke he spent a gentle and peaceful four days at Sherman Home (Hospice of the Valley). He was comfortable and able to say goodbye to his wife Lois, son Andy (Jimmy Yiannias), and his grandchildren Shana Amster (Micky), Kenny Cutler (Kelly), and Mycah Cutler (Amy Kugler). His daughter Felicia Cutler predeceased him. He had seven great grandchildren plus one on the way.
The real Everett Broder was immensely proud that he never lost his Providence, RI accent. When he thought it was appropriate, or likely to elicit raised eyebrows, the accent thickened.
He loved his time in Orleans, France, in 1951, while he was in the Army. He used to say that he was stationed in Or-lay-ohns, but the way he said it had about 30 syllables.
After discharge from the army he moved to Tucson, to join his parents, and where he finished college at the U of A.
Nothing says love like the 50’s JCC mixer where Ev met Lois on a blind date. They married in Tucson while he was still in college.
In the early 60’s Ev joined the family business. Tucson Army Surplus was started by his father Max, and great grandfather Pop. Shortly after Ev joined the family business, his father died. Ev owned and ran the store from the early 1960’s until he retired in 2000.
He was a devoted reader of his local newspaper (in Tucson then Phoenix). The papers strewn around his chair were a sort of territorial waters. Move them or toss them at your peril. They were being saved until he had time to get to an “important article.”
He was a devoted University of Arizona graduate and sports fan – especially football and basketball. He was also a big Patriots fan.
When he was young he enjoyed photography. He liked picnicking and short hikes. He liked an occasional game of softball with his uncoordinated children. He knew better than to ask them to play basketball (which made them love him even more).
He had a lot of tools. Most were a bit mangled and mangy. He was confident that he could fix and build things. His self-confidence about his handyman skills sometimes exceeded his ability. Shelves he built were uneven. There were nails poking out in all sorts of directions. There always a few half-hammered-in nails, bent sideways from being hit off center. The things he made were at times as scary they were functional. Tape and oddly placed screws were often involved.
Ev Broder had a great sense of humor. It was most apparent in his last years at Villa Hermosa (Tucson) and Clearwater Living (Phoenix) where he good-naturedly teased his neighbors and caregivers … and they teased him back. His caregivers and friendly neighbors made his last years very good years.
Ev’s passing makes the timing seem right for a bulleted well-filled bucket list:
• His children knew that he loved them exactly as they were. Unconditionally. He was an exceptional and accepting father.
• He indulged his family’s needs and excesses even though his own needs were simple and few.
• He sent his kids to summer camp provisioned like marines going to war. As a result, they were cursed for the rest of their lives with a compelling need to pack with the knowledge that they might be caught behind enemy lines. Being prepared for EVERY contingency was synonymous with packing. Overnight or overseas. Those were the options.
• He hated bacon. He “never developed a taste for shellfish.”
• He loved sweets. For Ev, the significance of Thanksgiving was pie. Family lore credits him with beginning the Broder birthday tradition. Next-day breakfast was leftover cake. Alas, our family was small, so this only occurred quarterly.
• He owned a vast array of University of Arizona sports-themed T-shirts, some of them dating to the 90s.
• He didn’t really like scrambled eggs, but he was known to enjoy them mixed with big chunks of salami. Or with Ketchup in a 1 to 1 ratio.
• He was known for getting to know the people who really ran things. The gardeners and pool cleaners at hotels gave him inside info because he was one of the only guests up at dawn when they began their day . He also talked to them about their jobs and asked advice on how best to navigate the property. He did this out of basic interest and to maximize the experience for Lois.
• He was happy to watch whatever was on television. Unless a U of A or Patriots game was on — in which case his choice was the only choice.
• The number of times he was pretentious was zero. On rare occasions, with only family around, he would make it clear that he was aware of the pretensions of others. He was blinded (by love) to intra-family pretense, which he indulged.
• That said, his wife taught him that going to dinner meant he ought to wear a little jewelry.
• He was a mensch.
• His drink, on the rare occasions he drank, was an Old Fashioned.
• He refused to wear a sweater, no matter how cold he thought it was in the house. He always thought it was too cold in the house.
• He was a self-taught speaker of Just-Enough-Street-Spanish to do a transaction at his store.
• He didn’t care about clothes or personal trappings, but he was secretly proud of the fact that his wife was well dressed and groomed and looked good at his side.
• In the world of people who bring water to tables, none existed who could bring it to him as often or in as large a glass as he would have liked.
• Everett Broder understood the value and symbolism of picking up the tab, even if he thought it was a trendy overpriced restaurant he would never have chosen.
• He could eat the same cereal for breakfast every day until it ran out, especially if he realized that nobody else would eat it.
• He like to feed birds… Something inherited from his mother.
• After his father died at age 59, he took care of his mother until she died.
• He considered pollen, and thus blooming plants, to be the enemy. Achoo.
• He was easily awestruck. A rare quality under-appreciated by most people.
• As a rule, the people he didn’t like were those who ill-treated servers, receptionists, and hosts (because he knew they did their best under whatever circumstances existed at the time). It’s important to note that he liked most people on general principle.
• His conversations were peppered by the phrase “but there’s one more problem.” It became a family idiom with varied meaning depending on context and vocal tone. It might mean there was a big problem looming. I could mean that he needed to think about it, or that he wanted someone else to take ownership. It might mean that he needed to read a letter or product insert to be sure there wasn’t a problem. It sometimes meant he was tired and wanted to talk about it later.
Everett Broder’s last words were “Wife, Kids.”
Our last words to him, said slowly and repeated many times were: Husband, Dad, Papa, Mensch, Bobo (his cat), we love you, and “there are no more problems, everything is good, your life was lovely and great and successful. We’re all with you. Everything is good and nice. Thank you… We love you.”
Everett Broder
Mensch
RIP
Donations:
Felicia’s Farm – https://www.feliciasfarm.org/donate/
Hospice of the Valley - https://www.hov.org/donate/
What’s your fondest memory of Everett?
What’s a lesson you learned from Everett?
Share a story where Everett's kindness touched your heart.
Describe a day with Everett you’ll never forget.
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