Tuesday, February 20, 2007
A Good Bye to Louie.
It happened almost a month ago, but it's taken this long for me to be able to write about it and not have tears well up in my eyes.
My Father-in-Law, Louie, passed away in his sleep on Jan 22nd. It was peaceful, with little discomfort. His daughter, my wife, was spending the night in his room so he wouldn't be alone. He'd been ill for some time, having suffered a stroke 4 years ago last Thanksgiving. His beloved wife, Ellen, fell sick with an unusually virulent form of cancer exactly one year later, and she passed away 2 days after Christmas 3 years ago. Louie had been doing fairly well until then, but her passing seemed to take the wind right our of his sails. His health had been slowly declining ever since. We had him out to the farmhouse he'd built for Ellen last New Years Eve. First time in about two years. He didn't talk much, but never napped, as was his usual custom. We had most everyone there, including grandkids, and he just sat there in his wheelchair and took it all in. He was home. I think it was the final thing on his "to-do" list.
If you were to have met him about the same time as I met him, 1976, you'd have thought he was just another simple Minnysoder farmer. And you'd have thought wrong. He was one of the smartest, hardest working men I've ever known.
I always enjoyed the time I spent visiting his farm. It wasn't too far from our home, a manageable drive, and the weekends and summers our sons spent there were invaluable. Not many city kids get to spend time on a fully operational farm these days, as the average american's rural roots become more and more tenuous. I'd spend the day there following him around as he did his various tasks, and you could honestly say that here was a man who truly enjoyed what he was doing. He loved farming, and he was damned good at it. (Lordy, could this man grow good steaks! I didn't realize how spoiled I had gotten until he got out of beef.) He also had an uncanny business sense, a good talent for a farmer. He was on the board of directors of the local bank because of his business acumen.
But the most important thing to me was that he was a good friend and great FIL who treated me as his own son from the very beginning. That meant a lot to me. He had a wry sense of humor and was alway fun to be around. It was a bit tougher to talk with him as he got older. All those years sitting on unmuffled Johnny Poppers and open platform combines took their toll. They didn't use earmuffs way back when, and all that raw noise took its toll. But I still enjoyed spending time with him. I'll miss him dearly.
Good by, Louie. I'll see on the other side. Hope the fields are fertile, and the cattle fat and sassy.
Damn. Here come the tears again.
My Father-in-Law, Louie, passed away in his sleep on Jan 22nd. It was peaceful, with little discomfort. His daughter, my wife, was spending the night in his room so he wouldn't be alone. He'd been ill for some time, having suffered a stroke 4 years ago last Thanksgiving. His beloved wife, Ellen, fell sick with an unusually virulent form of cancer exactly one year later, and she passed away 2 days after Christmas 3 years ago. Louie had been doing fairly well until then, but her passing seemed to take the wind right our of his sails. His health had been slowly declining ever since. We had him out to the farmhouse he'd built for Ellen last New Years Eve. First time in about two years. He didn't talk much, but never napped, as was his usual custom. We had most everyone there, including grandkids, and he just sat there in his wheelchair and took it all in. He was home. I think it was the final thing on his "to-do" list.
If you were to have met him about the same time as I met him, 1976, you'd have thought he was just another simple Minnysoder farmer. And you'd have thought wrong. He was one of the smartest, hardest working men I've ever known.
I always enjoyed the time I spent visiting his farm. It wasn't too far from our home, a manageable drive, and the weekends and summers our sons spent there were invaluable. Not many city kids get to spend time on a fully operational farm these days, as the average american's rural roots become more and more tenuous. I'd spend the day there following him around as he did his various tasks, and you could honestly say that here was a man who truly enjoyed what he was doing. He loved farming, and he was damned good at it. (Lordy, could this man grow good steaks! I didn't realize how spoiled I had gotten until he got out of beef.) He also had an uncanny business sense, a good talent for a farmer. He was on the board of directors of the local bank because of his business acumen.
But the most important thing to me was that he was a good friend and great FIL who treated me as his own son from the very beginning. That meant a lot to me. He had a wry sense of humor and was alway fun to be around. It was a bit tougher to talk with him as he got older. All those years sitting on unmuffled Johnny Poppers and open platform combines took their toll. They didn't use earmuffs way back when, and all that raw noise took its toll. But I still enjoyed spending time with him. I'll miss him dearly.
Good by, Louie. I'll see on the other side. Hope the fields are fertile, and the cattle fat and sassy.
Damn. Here come the tears again.
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Trying to find something to say to a person like yourself, who has suffered a great loss, in person, is near impossible.
On here....electrons don't make it. For that reason, I delayed on this post, and I apologize.
Louie, I too put in a couple thousand hours or so on a Johnny Popper, a 730, hand clutch and all, narrow front end bobbing up ever so often when you brought 3 14's semi mounted, out of the ground.
But the mention of those tractors made me think of that one, and you. They both had more heart than you would ever think possible, and they never gave up. They just ran and ran and ran.
I had the chance to drive one again, years later, in a tractor pull at a local fair, about ten years ago. When I climbed down from the seat, my eyes were wet, as they are now.
I knew I was saying goodbye to a American Legend.
Be Free, Louie.
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On here....electrons don't make it. For that reason, I delayed on this post, and I apologize.
Louie, I too put in a couple thousand hours or so on a Johnny Popper, a 730, hand clutch and all, narrow front end bobbing up ever so often when you brought 3 14's semi mounted, out of the ground.
But the mention of those tractors made me think of that one, and you. They both had more heart than you would ever think possible, and they never gave up. They just ran and ran and ran.
I had the chance to drive one again, years later, in a tractor pull at a local fair, about ten years ago. When I climbed down from the seat, my eyes were wet, as they are now.
I knew I was saying goodbye to a American Legend.
Be Free, Louie.
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