Kevin Moore, a warm and bright light to all those who have met him, has gone gently into the good night. Kevin was and will always be remembered as a kind and caring soul who was a dedicated public servant and a loving family man. Despite acquiring a non-cancerous lung disease common to firefighters, he maintained a positive outlook, humor, kindness and above all gratitude.

Kevin came to Cloverdale from Eureka at the age of 20 to join the Fire Department. His long career in public service included serving as the Deputy State Fire Marshal for a large part of Northern California.

Kevin mixed his uncanny powers of observation with a drive for problem solving to help friends and strangers alike.

Kevin was known all over the world for his passion in preserving American farm windmills. His internet videos and websites brought a great opportunity for him to enjoy a feeling of gratefulness that only helping others could bring. He often told his family that it’s about the people, not the windmills, that he relished the most.

Kevin’s greatest joy came from being with Robin, his wife of 45 years, his daughter Kathy, son-in-law Bryan and his son Loren and daughter-in-law Allye. When speaking of his two granddaughters, Kevin said, “Just when you think you have life all figured out and it can’t get much better, grandkids come along filling you up with more happiness than you think you can hold.”

Quick with a smile and a corny story or an old adage, he often said, “If we measured our wealth in smiles from strangers and the friends we have acquired, I would be the richest man alive.

Kevin respectively requested that you donate a wave to a stranger or an extra kind word to a child in his memory at your earliest convenience.

He wanted to remind his friends and family that gratefulness is not just a switch to turn on when things go well; it is also a light that shines in the darkness.
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My final corny story by Kevin Moore

You can tell everyone that in the “old days,” we had to take down the American flag every night at the fire station or risk a nighttime phone call from everyone from the mayor to the cub scout leaders for leaving the flag up after sunset.

I once got a call at midnight from the fire chief who said, “Get your ass on the roof of the firehouse and shine a flashlight at the flag all night long or take the flag down at sunset.”

That lesson taught me a great deal about the importance of respect for others’ beliefs and the great value of understanding what is important to someone else, should be important to me.

The next day, to get out of the doghouse with the chief, I planned to raise a brand-new flag. I made sure I polished my boots, checked to make sure my uniform looked good and went out without another soul around and put up the new flag at 7:00 a.m. on the dot. As I did, I had an overwhelming feeling of respect for that flag and for myself.

The chief came in the next morning and said something about how the new flag looked great and to my surprise, that was the end of the subject.

Forty-three years have passed, and I still have that same feeling when I see a flag being raised. Today is a new day, full of memoirs of yesterday but full of endless possibilities.

PS: Everyone in town heard the story of the late-night phone call. It became a running joke for years.

CONTACT: Kathy Moore
dribbles2002@gmail.com