Thank you all for being here – Dad would have loved seeing the church so full.
I’m Nora, the oldest daughter, representing my sister Beth and her husband Troy, my brother J.R. and his wife Anna and their fabulous children Molly and John David, my sister Ann and her husband Tim, and our mother, Meg.
Dad was the youngest of ten children, which meant that he instantly had a team of siblings doting on him. And now, he does again.
By all accounts he was a bit of a mama’s boy, as evidenced by his first day of school photograph – he looks absolutely miserable.
First grade at St. Joseph School in Logansport wasn’t so bad. He started his career in serving the church as an altar boy and made lifelong friends that were in touch until the end. Mr. Dunn and Mr. Corso, please keep those traditions alive.
Dad was a typical farm kid – 4-H Club, a tight group of friends, and a letter jacket for being a yell leader at Washington Township High School – Go Hatchets!
He joined the U.S. Army, becoming a cook at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri. If anyone needs to make chipped beef on toast for 600, let me know – I’ve got his cookbook.
Dad was thrilled to be accepted into the General Motors apprentice program – he gave credit to the county school superintendent, Chalmer Condon, for writing a letter of recommendation. Dad was very proud of himself for not reading the letter as he ferried it from Logansport to Indianapolis.
Dad quickly joined the other young Tool and Die Makers, purchasing a white Corvette, honing his Cribbage game, and making even more friends – even if they all didn’t know each other’s real names.
He married the prettiest girl in Cass County in 1960 and soon started a family. They eventually landed in Boone County, tackling farming as a second job. Dad alternated his GM shifts based on the planting and harvesting seasons. We kids all enjoyed the beard he grew starting after he picked the last of the crops and shaved when he started planting. Dad was a John Deere guy, if you were wondering.
As kids, we were pretty sure that he just had children to do chores - pull weeds in the beans, pick up rocks, scoop out the barn, feed the chickens, mow the grass, butcher cows, and bring him beers.
Dad retired from General Motors in 2001 after 44 years. His retirement party at the Farm was a grand celebration – his coworker Lil and his brother, Cletus, dancing in the backyard was a highlight – and a moment special enough that a photo of the dance made a coveted spot on Dad’s woodshop fridge.
Retirement opened a whole new world for Dad. He thoroughly enjoyed attending Indians baseball day games – his Rally Cap game was strong – and he had his favorite beer vendor on speed dial.
He took to being a grandfather like he’d been training for it his whole life. He was a fixture at kickball, Lacrosse, and basketball games, Pine Wood Derby races, school Masses, birthday parties, and celebrating milestones. He loved that Molly and John had twelve years of Catholic School Education. He was very excited to have both grandchildren attending Purdue.
He walked into Second Helpings the first week of Lent in 2006 and told me that he was committed to volunteering for just six weeks and would be it. Fifteen years, 611 shifts and over 2,500 volunteer hours later he was still going strong until the pandemic started, and we told him to stay home.
He was a charter member of the Wednesday morning volunteer crew – the Cut Ups – named for partly for their knife skills and for mostly for their laughter. Dad introduced the volunteers to the Union Break – a time for donut eating and storytelling. His volunteer friends added a whole new level to his social life – Dad attended plays, weddings featuring food trucks, sing-along Christmas parties, and always had his eyes peeled for White Elephant gifts. Mr. Ternet, thank you for bringing him there the last few years.
Dad was ahead of his time – he knew that barn wood and shiplap were cool about 50 years before HGTV. He used the wood from walnut tree that needed to be cut down to make room for the new house, to make the china cabinet and for the mantel and window seat.
His goal was to be able to live in that home until he was 85 – and he made it.
He was what we today call a Maker. He believed in using every part of the animal – that’s how the oxtail stew tradition started. He’d freeze enough sweet corn to last through the next year, including plenty for the funeral dinners here – served with real butter, of course. We were all invited to “Sweet Corn Sunday” – a party, with free labor.
His homemade wine was famous, both for the sweet taste and the hangovers it produced. If you asked him what variety it was, the answer was grape - old or new. I’m still not old enough to drink it – proceed at your own risk.
The parties at the Farm were always fun– church gatherings, square dances, family celebrations, hayrides, post-race parties, and the now-famous Martin Luther King, Jr Day fish fries. It started in 1989 as an afternoon of frying fish and playing Euchre in the smoky chicken house. After a few years we kids were invited – again, free labor – and soon families, vegetables, sleigh rides, and food safety were added to the celebration.
Dad was a loving furniture restorer – one of his last projects was restoring his childhood high-chair. He was a stickler for authenticity – I combed Etsy to find someone who would take his calls, to design the perfect leather strap to connect the tray to the seat.
Many of us have pieces of his reclaimed wood projects in our homes. He was also a fantastic woodworker, building the cradle that held both Molly and John David and the playhouse that was the envy of their toddler friends.
This altar was his capstone project – thank you, Michael Beihl and Mr. Kemna, for helping to make that possible.
Dad built his own casket – it was a little disarming over the years to see Dad lay down on a felled tree to see of the boards would be long enough. Thank you, David Cofer, for helping him with that. The casket is lined with bleached feed sacks gathered and stored lovingly by his frugal mother for a special occasion. I think we’ve found it.
Dad was a star of social media – he always wanted to know how many “hits” he got on Facebook – the news of his death brought over 1.2 thousand reactions and almost one thousand comments. He was a social media influencer.
Through those comments we’ve learned how many people considered him a surrogate father or grandfather. His zest for life influenced people that he’d never met.
Dad became Uncle Johnny before he was ten years old. He loved it so much that he asked everyone he met to call him Uncle John. It was a little weird to have people ask us if we knew Uncle John – and it happened a lot.
This church and the parish members were home to him. Thank you for including him in all activities, inviting him to graduation parties, weddings, and turning the hymnal to the appropriate songs for him.
Like all of us, our dad wasn’t perfect, but now’s not the time to talk about that.
Once Dad told us that hearing his children laugh was his favorite sound – please keep the stories coming and our laughter flowing.
Thank you to Dad’s godchildren that were able to attend, for serving as pall bearers. We appreciate everyone that has helped with this celebration – reading, serving at the altar, ushering, and Caroline Van Atter – the Queen to Dad – and her family for the beautiful music. Thank you, Father Click and Father Bowers, for beautifully honoring Dad’s life and his love of the Church with this wonderful Mass.
I’d like to thank my sister Beth - she lives just a few miles from the Farm and Dad counted on her for rides, household help and a whole heap of other things. Dad put pressure on his only son, J.R. and my brother always rose to the occasion. Even though Annie lives the farthest away she and Dad were very close – she spoke to him every evening for the last 18 months to help him through the loneliness caused by the pandemic.
Keep a safety pin on your sock, a $50 bill folded in your wallet, don’t pass up a free sample, eat your dessert first, always take time to visit with a neighbor, measure twice/ cut once, and please don’t forget who you are.
Bless.*
This part was powerfully heart-wrenching - we all had a nail to pound in to close the casket. I did snap these photographs at the cemetery - they show a little more of the craftsmanship of the casket. I hope someone got better ones...The 21 gun salute and flag ceremony at the gravesite was tear inducing. Father Click did a lovely job with the final prayers.
Dad's godchildren served as pallbearers - he at least a dozen - and eight were able to be there.
We kids and some of the cousins rode back to the church in the back of Dad's truck - I hope someone has a picture of that!
The funeral dinner was delicious - Dad's sweet corn was included - and full of people. There were stories and toasts and chicken and noodles.
We moved the party to the Farm - Uncle John stories - and beer - were flowing. It was wonderful to celebrate Dad with cousins and neighbors and friends.
So many more stories and so much more thoughts about today, this is all I can muster for now....
