The following is the Eulogy that I wrote and delivered on December 15, 2018 for my Dad at his funeral mass.
The other day, as I was driving my Dad’s truck down the road. I started thinking about the first truck that my Dad bought. Then I started thinking about all the things that he and my Mom built before he got his first truck. Moving and rehabbing the rental house in Justice, building the house in Palos, maintaining the cottages, building the office building, rehabbing more cottages...Dad built things. He had grand visions. Ambitious plans. Some might say crazy ideas. But, son of a gun if he didn’t bring them to life!
Dad was a learner. One of my earliest memories was waking up in the morning to find Dad asleep on the couch with his textbook on his chest and his ruler and pen on the floor beside him. He was very proud of his CPCU degree. He was also very proud of sending my sisters and I to college. The first thing that he did when each grandchild was born was to start their college fund.
Hand in hand with learning, Dad loved to travel. Yes, he and my Mom and later with Jan took the standard Middle Class trips. But, Dad also loved to get off the beaten path. He loved to mix with the locals preferably in their native tongue. He loved learning the history of wherever he was visiting. And, he loved to tell us about it when he returned.
The Northwoods. Ahh, North of the Tension Zone. This was my Dad’s element. Whether he was driving the Kubota or better yet watching his grandkids driving the Kubota or pulling them behind the ski boat, my Dad had a smile that reached from ear to ear. There are too many Northwoods stories, and I know that many of you have lived through several!
My Dad was larger than life, and he attracted larger than life characters. One of them, his buddy Jerry Dingels, called him the Champion of the Downtrodden because he also helped many who were down far at the end of their rope. Last night, I heard the same story over and over again. Oh the names changed. The situations changed. But, the story remained the same. It basically went: Your Dad, Jerry, helped me when no one else could, or no one else would.
My Dad built things, did things. He went to all of our concerts and games. I remember him standing in a driving cold rain with the plastic bag my Mom had given him wrapped around his head like a babushka while working the chains when I was a freshman football player. And, I remember him hugging the stuffing out of my coach when we scored the game winning touchdown. I remember him twirling the flag with my sister Kristen during Dad’s Days at the University of Illinois football games. And I remember him beaming with pride for Michelle when she was awarded “Bronze Tablet” honor for graduating in the top 3% of her class! Dad loved to tell about the exploits of Nick and Anna, and he always wanted to hear what Silas, Zeke, and Milo were doing.
My Dad did a lot of things, but mostly he loved. He loved my Mom. He was a traditional man, but he became my Mom’s caregiver. After Mom passed, he was despondent until he met Jan. He loved Jan. He loved my sisters and me. He loved his Grandkids. He loved his friends. And he loved his community and his country. Dad achieved great success, but monetary gain was not the driving force. Everything that he did was based in love.
My Dad was a member of Hickory Hills Sertoma for darn near 50 years. Service to Mankind. They weren’t just words to him, he lived it. He gave it everything he had, but it also fed his soul. He brought me along. He ingrained it into me.
I told my sons that tears now will be happy tears. We will be sad because we miss him. God, I will miss him. But, we will be glad that we knew him and learned from him. Dad lived his life full out giving everything he had. He worked hard. He played hard. He celebrated. He loved. He reveled in others successes. He got knocked down, he got back up, and he took care of business. Dad showed me how to live. Today, we celebrate his life. Tomorrow, we will go on living. Just like Dad …Pals Forever...
