Well, Dad, over eighty-five years on planet Earth and now you can finally rest.

You fought for our country in World War II and helped preserve our freedom. You fed five boys on one income. You taught me the importance of giving a man an honest day's work for an honest day's pay. You taught me to not fight with other kids unless they came into my yard and then only if they started it, and you told me that I'd better win that fight or you'd whip me yourself. As a result, I've learned to be fair and responsible, to work hard, to defend what is mine, and to not be a brawler.

You went to school and got a degree while working full time to support us kids and Mom. You painted paintings that we only discovered after your death and that I have still not yet seen as of this writing.

You raised bees as a hobby and you made your own bee boxes with a Shopsmith saw and "us kids" nailed them together for a nickel a box, which taught us to be productive and to work hard.

I remember riding to Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin a couple of times with you in that old, 1941 Chevy rack truck that you had bought from the Citgo gas station. You had it loaded down with 5-gallon cans of honey that you extracted and canned yourself and you sold that honey to Mr. Diehnelt, who was the owner of a business known as "Honey Acres" and he used it to make "honey candy" and other honey and beeswax products. You even let me drive that truck once on the way to a bee yard. When your bee business grew, you kept reinvesting in more bee boxes and frames and beeswax sheets to start the frames and kept it growing. Later, you joined the Sioux Bee co-op. I remember semi-trucks coming and loading the honey onto those semi trailers 110 gallons at a time with a payloader in 55-gallon drums. I remember when you finally had to sell out all your bee equipment and give it up because it became too big to handle alone and we boys were each off doing our own thing. Still, I think of you whenever I see a jar of Sioux Bee honey in a store.

Your body gave you almost constant pain with your spinal stenosis and we all thought you were a whiner until you had surgery and we realized that you really were in pain. Even on your death bed, the pain in your hips was almost too much to witness. Finally, your pain is gone.

I'll miss you Dad, and I will never forget you.

Dad's obituary is here.