Joseph Andrew Krake

EULOGY:

When my sister Cheryl and I were fighting over who would get to DJ Dad’s memorial (clearly, John wasn’t in the running), we asked Dad to settle the debate, and in one of his moments of clarity, Cheryl and I asked which of his children would be most qualified to select the music for the memorial, and he said–without skipping a beat–Shatrine. He was calculated, thoughtful, and knew how to bring out the best of those around him. So while he deliberately tasked Shatrine with the music selection for today, and I’m convinced he strategically coordinated for Tamara to help redecorate his bedroom for mom once he passed, John would balance the quickbooks, and he knew Cheryl would be in charge of looking after mom, and me, well, I’m pretty sure it was his plan all along for me to write his obituary or eulogy or whatever this is, so, here we go…

Even though he had long stated his goal was just to make it to 65, my father, Joseph Andrew Krake died at 72 years of age, peacefully in his sleep at home in Castro Valley, California on October 25, 2023. Always looking out for others, he held on to the early morning hours so as not to pass away on his little sister’s birthday, the October 24th. And he only let go succumbing to his liver and kidneys once he knew his beloved wife Marty was well-cared for.

My dad always said “Baseball is a metaphor for life.” Considering that he made it 7 years into extra innings, we are here today to honor him as he passes over his lineup card. (That’s a baseball metaphor, for the uninitiated).

If baseball is a metaphor for life, Joseph Andrew Krake entered the league on December 4, 1951. He was born in Berkeley, California, the first-born child of Joseph William Krake and Mary Catherine (Bausum) Krake. Even as a kindergartner in Pittsburgh, California, Andy showed promise when he was selected to play the ringleader of the circus at a school program–perhaps another metaphor for another time. His leadership skills developed when his family moved to Glendora California for his elementary and high school years where he was named ASB President at Glendora High School in 1969 and was immortalized in 1968 as the “La Puente Assassin” when the big man took a fumble recovery against the rival La Puente for a 95 yard touchdown breaking a school record which still stands to this day (look it up!). Another formative experience during this time was in his Junior year of high school when he was an exchange student in South Africa—perhaps a reason for his passion later in his life for other cultures and his heart for working with exchange students.

He also cultivated his talents as a salesmen in those early years living at 618 E. Dalton where he recruited his younger brother Paul to bundle up the mistletoe that grew on a tree in their backyard which they promptly wrapped in ribbon and sold door to door in the neighborhood from the back of a red-flyer wagon. After the mistletoe, it was greeting cards purchased from a stationary store in Pasadena and resold to neighbors and fellow church-goers (another foreshadowing of reselling packs of 1988 Donruss from Payless—you’ll have to ask John about that one). In the days before electric lawn mowers, after Andy nearly lost a toe, his landscaping business shifted to a newspaper route assisted only on Sundays in the family station wagon in order to finish early enough to still make it to Sunday School.
In addition to his leadership skills and knack for sales, he excelled in his abilities to recruit a team around him. After attending Oklahoma Baptist University, he met his greatest teammate at Golden Gate Baptist Theological Seminary (the same Bay Area Seminary where his parents attended and married). Martha Luanne Hansma Krake and Joseph Andrew Krake were married in 1976. While studying to follow in his father’s footsteps as a pastor, Andy continued his business pursuits working to pay his way through seminary on the side as a Fuller Brush salesman where he employed several others (most notably, his little sister, Florence) to work with him delivering the cleaning products he sold. As the lead pastor of Elmhurst Baptist Church in 1980, he also took care of his little brother John Mark whom he hired to serve as the youth minister while home summers from college.

His talents as a teacher and shepherd grew in his years pastoring at Elmhurst Baptist in Hayward. He loved building relationships and while he wasn’t the most handy, he always seemed to be able to get the job done (even if the job was dragging the dirt of the little league infield from the back of his Lincoln Continental Towncar).

Ultimately, his entrepreneurial spirit could not be contained. He thrived making deals. He launched Lakeshore Financial where he bought and sold real estate. I’m convinced he took the opportunity to purchase and operate a couple of SpeeDee Oil Change & Tuneup franchise stores just so he could have a way to hire my older brother and I to work and earn some money through our high school years.

While his business endeavors had ups and downs, his endless optimism, charisma, and love for others, never waned. He was always looking for ways to support and build up those around him.

He loved his community.
He loved serving as President of the Castro Valley Little League.
He loved serving as President of the Hayward Rotary.
He loved serving. Period.
That’s what it means to be “presidential” or to be a leader: serving. Giving.
He was terrible with money because he would give it away.
If he ever hired someone for a job, he would likely pay them too much.
How’s that for an achilles’ heel?
But that is Andy Krake.
He loved people.
He loved investing in the lives of international students.
He loved having conversations over coffee.
He loved selling hamburgers at the rodeo (with Rotary?).
He loved inspiring people.

Most of all, he loved his family.
He loved Thanksgiving family gatherings in southern California and New Year’s day chili over rice (no beans).
He loved making grits for his number one son, John Luther. He loved that his daughter Cheryl Kay would climb up in his lap and drink black coffee, just to be near him. And he loved that his youngest son, Joseph Glenn (that’s me), could beat him at chess. He loved his wife so much, he would play Splendor with her every night, even though he really didn’t like board games.

And here’s the kicker: I don’t think he really liked baseball. [pause and wait for gasps]. I know I don’t really like baseball [pause and wait for gasps]. Don’t get me wrong; we both love LA and we both bleed Dodger Blue. But to be honest, I only really like baseball because my dad does. And I sometimes think maybe he only really liked baseball because he thought I would.
When it really comes down to it, I think he could take or leave baseball. As much as everyone believed he loved the Dodgers, I think more than anything, he loved people. He loved stories. Baseball was just a way he connected to those people and to those stories.

He was intentional like that. He played fantasy baseball with me and my brother and my cousins and my college buddies, not because he was good at it (he wasn’t), but because it was a way to stay connected to us. He took up collecting baseball cards to teach his preteen sons how to manage money, how to run a business, how to invest, and how to be passionate about something. He took us to spring training in Arizona and Vero Beach. He bought a booth at the world’s largest baseball card show in San Francisco’s Moscone Convention Center and turned his sons loose to buy up as many Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire rookie cards as we could find before their values peaked. He took 10 and 11 year old boys to the 1988 World Series to see their team win the championship. That’s how you build core memories. Then he took his grandchildren to as many baseball games as he could. That’s how you build a legacy.

He always said “Baseball is a metaphor for life.” And you all are here because you’re on his team. Team Andy.
That’s what he did: he was always out scouting and recruiting people to add to his roster. If you’re here today, he saw something in you. Maybe you have a wicked curveball like Clayton Kershaw, or maybe you can program a Nextel push-to-talk like Bolthar. Whatever it was, he saw potential in us all. He wanted us in his dugout. He sought us out. He believed in us. He cheered us on. He picked us to be on his team. That’s a metaphor if I’ve ever heard one.

And so here we are today, to honor Andy as he passes his lineup card over.
He joins his parents and brother Paul in the Hall of Fame. He is survived by a roster full of champions. His sister Florence Gayle and brother John Mark as well as his loving wife he Marty, children John Luther (Tamara), Joseph Glenn (Shatrine), and Cheryl Kay along with six grandchildren… and you. His team. He invested in us all and he’s set an amazing example for how to step up to the plate when it’s your turn. And even when you strike out or get knocked out in the first round of the playoffs, there’s always next season where hope springs eternal. Amen.