Dad

Dad

This is a poem I wrote for my Dad’s funeral. He was a simple man with simple values. Other than the year he lived in Chicago attending Cohn’s Electrical School, he lived his entire life in about a ten mile radius of his birthplace. He had a high school education and operated a garage for 50 years. He was a self taught automobile and diesel mechanic, known for his honest in dealing with people. Looking at the sum total of his life, many would question his contribution to the world, but he had a great impact on his local community because of his strong moral and practical stance in the life of the community. He was a man you could depend on and on whose word you could stake your life. Many men who are now my age, spoke of his influence on their lives through the years. Others of various ages spoke of how he was irreplaceable in the community. How did a man with just a high school education who spent most of his life in a small area of this world have such an impact? I don't know for sure what the answer is, but I think it is because he listened to people, gave advice only when asked and in meetings was generally one of the last to speak. Other than that, contrary to my beliefs about him when I was a teenager, I think he was a genuinely intelligent man who approached life from a very pragmatic perspective. I believe this is a fitting tribute to his life.


He was a builder of sorts, a fixer of broken things,
His work was tractors, cars and other large machines.
He did his work well; he was skilled at his trade,
But it was not that work for which he was made,
That didn’t define his life, though you’d think it should,
He was a builder, but not with hammers, nails and wood,
His was a far more important building, one not made by hand,
But by the strength of character placed in the heart of a man.
He did his building everyday, before all the world to see,
His tools were his daily walk, his materials were integrity.
It was by the spirit of God, placed in his soul quite young,
That made him who he was, and gave life into his song,
And at the end of day and heaven’s bells begin to peal,
The song of his life has ended, but the melody lingers still.