Obituaries

Thomas Dwaine Goffee (Tom) was born in Cambridge, Ohio, in 1952, the second of three children of Norma and Thomas. He moved to Cleveland as a young boy with his mother, Norma, his brother, Terry Lee, and his sister, Kathy. His mother later married Clarence “Ted” Pierce, who raised Tom and his siblings as his own.

Tom began working young. His first job was delivering newspapers, followed by what was surely a considerable promotion: bat boy for the Cleveland Indians. He rounded out his teenage employment at the local bowling alley—a job that may have contributed to his becoming an exceptionally good bowler. There are dusty trophies in the garage to prove it.

At 18, Tom enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. He completed basic training at Parris Island and went on to serve in Vietnam, Okinawa, and other locations. His time in the Marines left him with many things, among them lifelong friendships, stories, and, somehow, formidable skills at ping pong.

While serving overseas, Tom began corresponding with Letty, thanks to an introduction from a fellow Marine—who happened to be her brother. When Tom returned home, the two finally met in person. They married soon afterward and remained married for more than 50 years, until Tom’s passing.

Tom and Letty spent most of their married life in the San Francisco Bay Area, where they raised their two children, Tania, born in 1979, and Brian, born in 1981. Tom was a loving and devoted father. He coached teams, umpired baseball and softball games, supported more than a few whims, and, most importantly, was simply there whenever his children needed him. They always knew they could count on their Dad.

That devotion carried naturally into his role as grandfather to Amelia and Andrew. He spent countless hours with them reading books, going out for ice cream, and trying—mostly in vain—to teach them cribbage and other card games. His instruction was occasionally complicated by his own flexible interpretation of the rules. Tom was not above cheating at cards, though he'd likely dispute that.

Professionally, Tom built a successful career as an accountant, eventually becoming a Chief Financial Officer before retiring in 2014. He was smart, capable, hardworking, and respected, though those who knew him best would probably agree that his job title tells only a very small part of his story.

Ask people to describe Tom, and the word that comes up first is kind. He was kind almost to a fault. He was also funny, smart, charismatic, loyal, and generous with his time. He had a way of making people feel comfortable and welcome.

He liked answering the phone with an unexpected one-liner. He played the guitar and sang. He could happily study the battles of the Civil War for hours. If Tombstone was on television, he was going to watch it—it did not matter how many times he had already seen it. And he was a committed practitioner of the Dad joke: the worse the joke, the better.

More than anything, Tom loved his family, and he showed it not through grand gestures but through a lifetime of being present. He showed up. He helped. He coached. He listened. He made people laugh. He read the books, bought the ice cream, dealt the cards—questionably—and was there when it mattered.

Tom did not want a fuss made over him, and he certainly would not want the people he loved to spend too much time being sad. His wish was simple: remember him fondly.

So tell the stories. Laugh at the bad jokes. Watch Tombstone one more time. Have some ice cream. Get on that karaoke stage. Play a hand of cribbage—and keep an eye on the dealer.

Most of all, live your life well.

Make him proud.