“Come fill your glasses fellows, and stand up in a row…”
Born March 7, 1947 in Jackson, MI, the middle of Betty Maxson’s three sons, Harold Lee “Tub” Maxson excelled at football and motor sports in high school. He was the captain of his football team.
Tub would do absolutely anything for a friend without complaint, reservations, or expectation of repayment. Humble by nature, he was not overtly religious, but he worked tirelessly to “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” He never bragged, and he had little tolerance for casual use of the term “hero.” For example, almost no one knew of his involvement, at great personal risk, in saving a Vietnamese child from drowning.
Tub always had a ready smile and a twinkle in his eye, but his easygoing disposition hid a rock-hard determination with respect to truly important matters, a characteristic not always admired by others (“…suffer not our hatred of hypocrisy and pretense ever to diminish...”). In fact, he and his wife, Cindy, developed a secret signal to use when Tub was too passionate in expressing his beliefs.
Small in stature, he was a ferocious competitor. One classmate still remembers limping for weeks after competing with Tub in a “friendly” touch football game on the Plain during plebe year. Low to the ground, with powerful legs that never stopped churning, Tub was nearly unstoppable in that game and in the Corps semi-final and Goats vs. Engineers games.
Two of his major personality traits were pragmatism and common sense. For example, he overcame the high cost of living and low Army pay in Alaska by hunting and fishing to feed his family.
Never self-promoting, he did not seek cadet accolades and rank. Instead, he sought the respect of those he, in turn, respected. He could always laugh in the most trying of situations, maintaining that great attitude even as he spent the last two months of his cadet life walking the Area and confined to his room. While others might have let their spirits drop, Tub looked forward to the “distinction” of graduating as a cadet private. He continued to smile as this honor was taken away when, on graduation morning, he received sergeant stripes and safety pins with instructions to pin the stripes on his full dress uniform. He even smiled as West Point “dumped on him” one last time during the graduation ceremony. Arising after all but 59 of his 799 classmates had graduated, Tub was moving to the podium when a passing seagull delivered a “graduation present” onto his back.
Having pretty much ignored cadet rank, position, and accolades, Tub devoted every effort to being the best Infantry officer possible, replacing foregone cadet honors with the priceless, unwavering respect and devotion of combat officers and soldiers. Cindy still fondly remembers receiving calls from men in his Vietnam platoon as they returned to the States, all expressing gratitude for his lifesaving leadership. He had a natural ability to unite others and lead them to a common goal, teaching them that “…the strength of the pack is the wolf and the strength of the wolf is the pack.”
Tub’s positive attitude, strong work ethic, and common sense did not go unnoticed by Procter & Gamble, as evidenced by his ultimately becoming P&G’s director of international property insurance affairs, where he made friends with and earned the respect of countless company officials and employees all over the world. Several of these became cross-country motorcycle partners.
Memories of Tub would be woefully incomplete without describing his special relationship with Cindy. They met through “friends of friends” at the 1968 Army-Navy Game in Philadelphia. As the story goes, a young woman was unable to attend at the last moment, so one of Cindy’s friends called to tell her that she had an extra cadet and that she was “sending him over” to Cindy. Cindy’s classic response was, “Well, what am I supposed to do with him?”
The answer to that question is now self-evident, as Cadet Harold Maxson and Cindy Finer, a nice Irish-Catholic girl from Rahway, NJ, quickly became “Cindy and Tub.” Over the next 47 years, they joyously supported each other in every aspect of life. They shared countless memories and adventures: from tours of duty in Alaska, Vietnam, and Massachusetts; to the decision to leave the Army during a major recession and Cindy’s support of Tub’s pursuit of a master’s degree; to Tub’s support of Cindy’s painting and other artistic endeavors; to the birth and raising of their adoring daughters, Christie Mock and Tara Good (and, later, grandchildren Kayde, Ryan, Lillian, and Lacey); to Tub learning the game of soccer in order to coach his children and grandchildren; to his especially close relationship with son-in-law Jay Mock; to Cindy’s support of Tub’s attempts to play the banjo (sorry, tone deaf); to jobs with (and retirement from) P&G in Mehoopany, PA and Cincinnati, OH; to the now legendary “Seattle sidecar” motorcycle trip; and, finally, Tub’s passing on July 17, 2017.
Of course, things did not always go as planned, often resulting in minor (some not so minor) calamities. In these circumstances, he would always look at Cindy and say, with that twinkle in his eye, “Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Ollie.”
Tough, warm hearted, loyal, hardheaded, joyous, humble, capable, and undaunted, Tub enriched the lives of his soldiers, family, co-workers, friends, and classmates more than he would have ever imagined.
“…we’ll sing our reminiscences…”