When I was little my mother told me a story about a man who asked her to dance at a new year’s party. She turned the guy down because she didn’t know how to dance jitterbug music. He talked her into dancing with him anyway. My dad was always like that—persuading you to try things you didn’t think you could do. With my mother he just took the lead and they danced a beautiful jitterbug.

I think that in his personal relationships my father was like that with anyone he paid attention to. His relentless faith in others made them believe anything was possible. With Guy on your side, you could dig your way out of any hole or face whatever challenge the world threw in your face. Then he would find a way for you to activate your happiness or dream. I don’t know how many hundreds of people he helped in his lifetime. He found them new jobs, new spouses, new homes, sometimes whole new lives.

Now let's fast forward nearly 45 years to the moment when Guy Blasé meets my fabulous stepmother Bobbi Linkletter, who is utterly struck by how much this man talks about his family. Other men might talk about their jobs, the money they make, the house they live in, the latest technological gizmo they’d discovered. None of those things interested my father. When it came to personal matters the thing that that really chimed his bells were his immediate family, my sister Leslie, and me.

In addition to springing from the womb with a relentless optimism, my father also innately understood gratitude in ways most of us never can.

"Guy Blase's

Operating Instructions"

Life is not short…..it is what you make of it.

Go soul searching and drinking at Vanumanutagi Ranch once a month.

Never be afraid to ask for a favor.

Play at least 90 holes of golf every week.

Have an insatiable desire to know more about someone you meet.

Drive…..at least 45 miles every day.

Have a really good sense of humor.

When planning a party….invite every living soul you have ever known.

Make sure you always give directions…..especially if you are not driving.

When it’s time to go…stop….and make one more phone call.

Always drop what you are doing to help your children

Indulge and admire your spouse.

 Eat cereal with raspberries every single morning of your life.

Travel often…even it it’s only to the next town.

Moldy raspberries are delicious.

Slightly green meat is also delicious.

First, let me say thank you to you Bobbie, Cece and Leslie and your families for allowing me the privilege of speaking to the memory of a dear friend I adored.

For me, life with Guy started when both of us were young lawyers starting out in Palo Alto . Guy was the most boyish-looking person I had never met. Charm occupied and oozed from every pore. The straight teeth – the perfect smile – the infectious laugh! That marvelous head of hair — the envy of every unadorned lawyer head in Palo Alto . His was a spectacular presence. If the rest of us were thought to be socially competitive, particularly amongst the distaff representatives, his presence and charm within the group soon relegated the rest of us to the showers. We were no contest. His presence - charm dominated; buoyant, competitive and positive, always eager and solicitous of your best interests, an exciter of confidence and trust, and always a careful trustee of his clients’ problems and burdens, including the hurts and pains of his loved ones.

He loved to talk politics! He once matter-of-factly revealed to me that he was a registered Republican…and without expressing either pride or shame, it seemed. I used to kid him that he only registered Republican out of respect for his neighbors. If in fact he was Republican, and on occasion I think he was, his allegiance spawned not from any ideological notions like those popular in today’s political marketplace; rather, his notion of an unrestrained individualism, with freedom from the threat of a central authority, found him, sometimes, swaying to the right, and if not at least in that general direction. Whatever, political dogma had no home in Guy’s lexicon.

As a lawyer, he believed that lawyers are the custodians of the ideals of our society. Not all lawyers do. Guile and intellectual corruption had no place in the rendering of his service.

During his many years, first as a founder and major partner of Spaeth Blase and Faman, the firm’s original name, Guy was immersed in a growing and active business practice, a good part of which was represented by architects and soil engineers then and for the first time suffering the sharp knife of liability suits. Guy steadfastly, and with imagination, represented their interests.

A regular and constant evangelist for the noble and worthy causes, including the Children’s Health Council, for which he acted as a director, Guy’s passion and selfless concern for the poverty-stricken, disadvantaged and, yes, the homeless, demonstrated itself all during his lifetime. With the community support and the many kindnesses expressed by so many of you here today, the Guy Blase House will be, someday soon we all hope, a reality. In this sense, Guy was a total citizen in the fullest sense, his antenna sensitively tuned, not just to family, friends and profession, but to the community as well. We are one and all richer for his contributions.

The burden of illness never daunted him. To be 73 and seriously ill, it seemed, was somehow far more cheerful and hopeful than to be 40 years old and healthy. His insistence that the cancer battle be won, that it would be won, was testament to his love of life, his love of his children, his friends, and his unbending devotion and love for Bobbi. That he ultimately conceded life gently, without whimper or the rancor of one alone and sorrowful, as he indeed was not, was testament, too, to his unbending love of his God and his confidence in an eternal life ahead.

I have been privileged to enjoy the intimacy and friendship of this remarkable man for 40 years, 40 years. What a guy! What a peacock! Thank you.

Even though located professionally in different associations within Palo Alto , we met often for lunch, shared ambitions, frustrations, assiduously avoided disclosing or naming our clients, and often talked about someday sharing offices under a common name. Blase and Ware — it had a nice ring to it, we both thought. But nothing ever ensued. Fragile as our incipient practices were, we both were experiencing just enough success to be wary of the risks of tinkering. As if to bring a happy, if not amusing end to our talks, Guy one day said to me in that little sandwich shop on downtown University Avenue, these exact words: “Leo, there isn’t a pen big enough for a couple of peacocks like you and me.” He was probably right.

Since I was similarly employed as a lawyer for a somewhat famous homebuilder at the same time, we often rejoiced ourselves in the knowledge that his engineers were as faultless, as my homebuilders’ radiant heating systems were perfect. As you might guess, we were both proved to be wrong and badly so! Our hubris perhaps was only tamed when we handed off the liability to unwilling and recalcitrant insurance carriers. For those of you not lawyers, let me tell you: No one can make a hero out of a lawyer bum faster than a grudging acceptance of your losing client’s liability by Lloyd’s of London. We both learned this lesson early on and with great relief.

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From Margaret Irwin, Rector

In lieu of flowers, we ask that you make a donation to the Opportunity
Center for the Homeless which will be built in Palo Alto. The housing
portion of the center will be named the "Guy Blase House" in his honor.

Donations can be mailed to:
555 Bryant Street
PMB # 321
Palo Alto, CA 94301