Dr. Bruno Hans Geba ,
University Professor Emeritus, Fellow of the American College of Sports
Medicine, Psychotherapist, Philosopher, Author, Sculptor, Lecturer, world
Traveler, Athlete

God moves in mysterious ways. I lost my mother, Ruth Schilling, suddenly in
Jan.  Had it not been for her memorial service, I would not be standing
before you today, delivering Bruno's eulogy.  She had asked me to sing.  No
problem.  I wasn't sure I would be able to speak, but I did.  All five of us
children spoke. It gave me the confidence to personally give Bruno's eulogy.
It was what he wanted.  My father has advised me to keep this short, saying
"remember the Gettysburg address."  Well, I'm no Lincoln and I'm finding it
difficult to condense my marvelous man's life into a few short minutes.  But
here goes.


Bruno was a true Renaissance man and a survivor; an extraordinary and
unforgettable human being. Jim Hinch read you the details of his life but I
would like to fill in some of the personal experiences not covered in his
resume.  In addition to the triumphs, of which we have heard, he endured many
trials and tragedies. As a teenager, he experienced the bombing of Vienna.  
Even then, he showed great strength and bravery by risking his life to enter
the bombed out buildings of the Viennese to rescue the few remaining
belongings of those who had lost all they owned.  He said he'll never forget
the sight of an old couple standing outside the ruins of their home with
nothing left but the pajamas they were wearing.  Those of us who are
fortunate to have never been bombed in our native land can't quite comprehend
the personal devastation of such an experience.  He was a naturalized citizen
and very proud to be an American.  We flew our flag every Independence day.   
He said that although our country has its problems, there is no better place
to live.

He lost father, Alexander Geba in WWI.  He was drafted by the Nazis and never
returned from the war.  His mother waited at train stations with her
husband's picture for years asking if anyone had seen her husband. Later, we
learned from the Red Cross that he had been sent to Northern Russia. He died
for a cause he was firmly against.  At that point, Bruno had to become a man.

As Jim read, he was drafted as a 17 year old by the Nazis at the end of the
war.  There he found himself with his friend and neighbor, Heino.  They ran
away from the Nazi's but were quickly captured by the Russians.  They spent 3
months in a Soviet prison camp, enduring hardships beyond belief.  Slowly,
they plotted their escape and walked from Hungary back to Vienna.  That is a
story in itself.  Heino credits him with saving his life.  I believe he saved
mine as well.

He endured another personal tragedy  like something from a horror movie.  His
first child, a daughter, Mona Maria, was murdered by her own mother on her
third birthday. Bruno was the one who found her.  As I said, he was a
survivor.

He was a powerful and charismatic man - a dynamic, mesmerizing speaker.  In
fact, that is where I saw him for the first time.  He was Keynote speaker at
a convention I was attending.  300 people in the room and you could hear a
pin drop. We met and the rest is history.  We don't have time for that story
either.

He was highly intelligent, tenacious, determined, and strong. Sometimes this
strength made him difficult, stubborn, and demanding.  As the Hospice nurses
quickly surmised, he was a "high-maintenance patient."  He took an active,
almost obsessive role, in fighting his cancer.  It was one year from the time
of his diagnosis of Multiple myeloma to the day of his passing.  It
pre-occupied his every thought.  He wanted to beat this incurable monster.   
It was not to be.  The fact that he passed away at home holding my hand is a
great comfort to me.

For those of you who saw him in social situations, he was extremely
gregarious and outgoing, but at heart he intensely private.  I called him the
"Hermit on the hill." He preferred to be alone - alone with me.  He adored me
almost to the point of possessiveness. He became almost frantic when I was
away.  Perhaps, somewhere, deep inside, he knew we had limited time left
together.  I wish I had known.  Would I have been different?  I don't know.   
I only know I will treasure every memory of our 13 years together.  Such a
short time, but we packed  more into those few years than some people
experience in a lifetime. He was my best friend.  We had a passionate,
intense relationship. That's another story, too.  I plan to write about it
someday.

He was such a strange mixture, so tough on the outside, but tender and
soft-hearted on the inside.  He had much compassion for his fellow man.  He
was generous, (when it suited him,) but also very frugal.  He was structured
and organized but could be spontaneous.  He was skeptical, but an optimist,
always looking on the bright side.  He used to say that he believed in
nothing and I believed in everything.  That is not really true.  I know he
believed in me.  He believed in the beauty of life and of nature.

He was gifted in so many ways.  He designed and built a home in Aspen and he
designed every square inch of our home.  He landscaped the yard, moving
hundreds of wheelbarrows full of lava rocks, built rock walls, planted trees.
We enjoyed working together and playing together; swimming and golfing.  At
one time he had an 8 handicap.  He was artistic.  It was not until he was in
his early sixties that he developed his talent as a stone sculptor.  And what
a talent he had.  I brought one of his sculptures today; Maluhia - peace or
serenity.  The others are....well....I did tell you that he was a passionate
man.  That is quite evident in his work.

He could be so sweet, and  had a sweet tooth as many of you know.  He used to
say "Dessert is the best vegetable."  Therefore, I found it appropriate to
keep his remains in a cookie jar.  Yes, for all you Costco shoppers, he is,
indeed, in a Costco Cookie jar.  He would have loved that!

He loved me.   And I loved him.  It's hard to believe anyone could love
someone so much. My son,  Tyler, who has lived in Italy for 2 years told me
the Italians have a phrase "A couple who fights is a couple in love."  Well,
we were very much in love, if you know what I mean.  Passion has two sides.   
How does one survive the loss of a love like that? I don't know. In spite of
my deep faith, it doesn't seem to lessen the grief, which has been
overwhelming. I'll have to practice  the survivor skills I learned from the
love of my life.  He was a great teacher.  His life is his example.  How
lucky we all were to have known him.  I consider myself the luckiest of all.   

He would have loved this!  In fact, he planned this entire ceremony.  So, if
you're wondering why this looks like the "Penei Show," it's exactly what he
wanted.  It was his choice. He was my biggest fan, besides my mother.  Now,
they're both gone.  But not forgotten. Never forgotten.  May we all learn
from him how to live life to the fullest.  Make the most of each moment.  And
tell those you love how you feel.  The only time we have is now.

And so I would like to take the time to thank you all for coming to pay
tribute to this great man.  I would like to name each one of you personally,
but time does not allow.  All I can say is your  kindness is greatly
appreciated.  Your act of giving brings it's own blessing.  God bless and
keep you all.  Mahalo