The following is what I wrote for Dad's funeral service. But I was not able to read it. It was too hard for me. Thankfully, Amy Jo had the strength to do it. She did a beautiful job.

Thoughts about Dad

I would like to tell you some things about my Dad, my great Dad. But first, I want to tell you about myself. You see, I consider myself a very fortunate person. I look around and realize that I have so much to be thankful for. I’m married to my Junior High girlfriend. We live in Evanston near the beach. I have a good job and wonderful kids. We are near some of our brothers and sisters and get to see them fairly often. But for years, my greatest fortune was that we have our 4 parents and my kids have gotten to know how great they are. Monday evening, the circle got a little smaller. But there is a lifetime of thankfulness and memories in my heart.

And now back to Dad-there is so much to say regarding him but the more I pondered, the more I discovered that I could explain it with 4 words that begin with C. Contentment, Correction, Collection, and Commitment.

The first impression of Dad was his contentment with life and in life. He enjoyed the simple things in life and never felt the pressure to keep up with the crowds. He loved just sitting on the screened front porch, reading the paper, listening to ballgame or taking a nap. No Dad wasn’t one that needed to keep up with popular trends. He loved being outside and cutting grass. He loved to listen to his clocks; all his many clocks that he fixed. Most people would give up and throw away twisted, tangled strands of Christmas lights. Dad would sit for hours straightening them out and then repair them. He also enjoyed the challenge with knotted string or a broken zipper. When we went to the Klamm farm in Kansas, Dad sat for hours and days making sense out of a knarled ball of bailing twine.

When I was in grade school, Dad changed jobs. He had been a chemist for Bowman Dairy for ever. He decided not to move when Dean’s bought Bowman and moved the headquarters to Rockford, but instead take a job repairing luggage downtown Evanston. For a while, I was disappointed with the job change. “My Dad is a chemist” I would tell people when they asked what my Dad did. Having a Dad as a chemist is great thing. It sounds mysterious, difficult and dangerous. Besides, there aren’t too many chemists, so this was special. But now he is repairing luggage. It didn’t sound quite as important. But Dad didn’t care. What he was thrilled with was no more driving to River Forest every day. Now he could walk to work and be by himself. Occasionally he would take the alley route coming home but I’ll discuss that in a minute.

He loved mashed potatoes and gravy for dinner and ice cream and a cookie for dessert. And popcorn every Sunday afternoon. Horseshoes was his game and we all knew it. Who else had a professional horesehoe pit in their backyard? Why he wanted to play me, I will never know. How could he have enjoyed it? A ‘ringer’ is scored as three points. When we played, Dad’s ringers were 1 point and he would still cream me.
Contentment. That was my Dad.

Another C to go along with Dad was Correction. Dad corrected me. My guess is that he needed to correct me more than my other brothers. At least that is the impression I have gotten from Ken! And I usually didn’t forget the message he wanted me to hear. Dad was certainly firm but usually fair. He knew we wanted to have our ‘free time’ balanced with his chore for us. I do remember that he used a belt on my bottom a few times. But usually verbal correction was sufficient. I still cringe when I hear Mom’s dreaded answer to me when I would ask if I could use the car; “I don't know, ask your father.” Well, maybe I don’t need it after all, that’s okay. Dad demeanor to discipline was much like the weather or the ocean; for the most part, it is calm and soothing, comfortable and peaceful. But there are also rare days when you better beware.
Correction. That was my Dad.

Next is Collection. Everyone knows what that is with Dad. Dad was a collector. Why throw out something that is perfectly good? Or, ‘look’ he would say showing you his latest ‘find’-look what I found in the garbage. Can you believe that? It’s practically new!” 3 dumpsters later we cleared the house, basement, garage and yard. Dad saved everything. But my family has enjoyed the fruits of his searching with lamps, quilts, clothes, wood, pans, end tables and plenty of other stuff I have forgotten where it came from. Ken and I often discussed this amazing habit of dad’s while we were cleaning out the house this summer. All this stuff and all the weight and it was all gathered and brought home by Dad. I bet we threw away several tons of stuff. Most of it came by Dad’s alley route walking home everyday from work. He knew the garbage pickup schedule and walked accordingly. Periodically, Ken or I would be asked to drive to a dumpster which was too tall for Dad and climb up and take a look. Many of those were early morning excursions to maintain anonymity. It was amazing to see the variety of stuff tucked up in all the corners and pockets in the basement ceiling. Following the excitement and laughter of the finds were the typical questions; Where did he get this? and What in the world did he save this for?
Collection. That was my Dad.

The last of the C’s is Commitment. Dad was a committed husband and father. He loved Mom and he loved us. His love for Mom was very obvious and clear. Their modeling and example of love was a gift. They did everything together. And they enjoyed doing it together. Mom wouldn’t tinker in the basement with Dad but with the intercom that was installed, he was just a push of a button away.

One of my childhood fears was always the health and safety of them. I guess it’s every kid's fear-what would happen to me if Mom and Dad were suddenly killed? Where would I go and who would take care of me? It was a scary thought. They laughed at each other’s jokes and had fun together.

Mom and Dad often hosted for many of the family gatherings; Christmas Eve, Pancake Day, birthdays and the bi-annual event of putting up the porch screens and taking them down. Often the noise with the grandkids would get pretty high. But for the most part Dad never complained. Then he and Mom would come and sit on the back porch to watch our lively games of Annie-Annie-Over. Mom often had to play nurse to those who got injured in play.

There was always that discussion between Ken and me regarding my birth. He would tell me that Mom and Dad were pretty disappointed that I was a boy. Ken would usually remind me that they decided to keep my anyways and not to worry about it. But I would wonder what it would be like to have a girl in our family. I especially wondered how would Dad have treated his daughter. When Dad became a grandfather I saw my answer. I would watch him when any and all of his granddaughters would arrive for a visit. They would scream and usually jump into Mom’s arms first. Then they would scream and jump into Dad’s big, surrounding arms for a big, squeezing hug. I wish everyone could see the smile on his face. And every now and then, he even closed his eyes! Maybe the disappointment of a fourth son was replaced by his eight grand daughters. I think so.

He loved his wife. He loved his boys and he loved his grandkids.
Commitment. That was my Dad.

So those are my thoughts about Dad. He was a great Dad and I miss him already. Thanks for letting me share them with you.