We weren’t the Brady Bunch nor were we the Waltons.

Altogether there were six Wyatt siblings. My half-brother Fred Beerman Wyatt passed away last week. Family and friends – in the best Wyatt tradition – said good-bye Monday with laughter and smiles filling a packed funeral home chapel. Tears are rare at family funerals that my cousin Larry Wyatt once jokingly referred to as Wyatt family reunions.

Monday was no different. It’s not that the family is anti-social. It’s just that clan-style gatherings aren’t exactly something the Wyatts have been known to do.

I never met my older half-sister Linda who has long passed away. If it makes any sense, there is an independent streak a mile wide and then some that runs through the family.

Staying true to my cousin’s observation, the last time I saw Fred was at my mom’s funeral over three years ago. Actually I should say “our mom” as Fred took every opportunity he had to point out how nice she was to him at all times. The feeling was mutual I’m sure as Fred helped Mom get through the loss of our father back in 1965 and the need to set about raising four young children on her own.

It goes without saying that I don’t like funerals per se and generally avoid them. Though I do admit they are a great time to take stock on what’s gone before – or more precisely – the good fortune you have to interact with family.

Good things happen and so do bad things. Even horrific things happen. It  is what gives us strength and balance.

Fred – who was named after our dad – was one of the good guys. He could always get you to smile.

He was the blue collar version of “Father Knows Best’s” Danny Thomas if there ever was one. He was by all accounts a doting father – and grandfather - and a loving husband. He was the guy who never met somebody that wasn’t a friend and was always up for a challenge. He also had a great sense of humor. And - I’d better not forget – he was a true sportsman who loved any challenge or chance to flex his muscles.

Sitting there in the funeral home chapel in Roseville it was clear what real wealth is. It isn’t the biggest house, the latest electronic equipment, or piling up the most money. It is impacting lives.

Fred never stopped making friends even in retirement. And he never stopped finding ways to get people to smile.  What more could one ask for in life?

He had a good run. The proof was in the fact laughter and smiles left virtually no room for tears during his memorial service.

Families come in all different sizes and styles. Some are like the Waltons. My mom’s side – the Towles  – were also an independent bunch but we gathered at Easter every year like clockwork. It wasn’t unusual, for example, while I was growing up to spend weeks with my Aunt Grace in San Francisco or weeks in the country with my cousins at Aunt Carolyn’s. Some are like, well, the Wyatts.

Every family is different just like everybody is different.

The trick is to take the strengths families – and friends – can give you to counter all of life’s rapids as well as the rocks tossed in your path by those who for want for a better description are weak people who think you find strength in hurting or taking advantage of others.

We all will reach the final destination. It is how we get there that counts.

Fred obviously knew that.

As one impromptu speaker noted Monday afternoon, “Fred was a good and kind man.”

A great epitaph if there ever was one.

To contact Dennis Wyatt, e-mail dwyatt@mantecabulletin.com