A gentleman called 'Rez'
This time of year causes me to reflect on the gifts I have been given. I have the gifts of health, family, friends, and community.
I am particularly thankful for the gifts of my daughter and grandson, and two special men in my life, one being my Dad.
With my Dad's life ending in this world, I pause to reflect on his life and how he has influenced mine.
OK, I admit it. I was definitely a daddy's girl. Being the youngest of three daughters, it came naturally.
I was at home with him and Mom the longest. Even after growing up and moving out, I maintained a relationship that most youngest children have with their parents.
My Dad had been especially strong willed these past few years. The aging process sometimes does that to a person. But I think he earned that right. After all, he'd been around for nearly a century.
My Dad was one of 12 children born to Czechoslovakian immigrants more than 90 years ago. Times were tough but you wouldn't know it listening to him talk.
Of course, those were the "good old days" when horses plowed fields and excitement was a new pair of shoes.
Being the hard working, God fearing, quiet gentleman that my Dad was, he instilled in me those same values.
My Dad was the one my two sisters and I would go to when we had a tummy ache or a bad dream.
Don't get me wrong — my Mom took care of our bumps and bruises. But Dad worked nights. He was already up. So we'd call him at his job and he would talk us into going back to bed or tell us how to remedy whatever ailed us.
Because of his work schedule, Dad was the one who was at home when we got off the school bus. He was the one who assigned our chores and dispensed the punishment.
In the 1960s men didn't do that; especially with three daughters. We knew then that he wasn't the typical father.
Dad also was in charge of our bedtime routine before he went to work. Mom was included, but he wanted to make sure we were raised as proper Catholics.
We joined in nightly prayers, the rosary, and benediction.
Dad also was the "bath water cop." He made sure that the water level of our weekly baths did not exceed more than a few inches.
You see, our drinking and bathing water came from a cistern that had to be filled. Dad's biggest fear was that we would run out of water, which of course never happened.
Hot water, as one can imagine, was not used very much. Too much of a luxury for everyday use. I think I was the only first grader who knew what "lukewarm" meant.
Life's necessities like food, water, and clothing were not to be wasted. Washing dishes or brushing teeth meant turning the water faucet on and off. I don't know how many faucets my Dad replaced in the house because of the wear and tear on the faucet handles.
Luckily there were three girls in the family. I'd hate to think of the hand-me-downs if there had been both boys and girls.
Friday evenings often were spent dancing to music or making our own music in the living room.
Dad taught us the joy of music. We all learned songs, some Czech, at early ages. We all took piano and organ lessons (Mom's insistence), and guitar lessons.
We all enjoyed singing as a family. We often heard Mom humming while working in the kitchen and Dad whistling outside. Just like in a Disney movie.
We didn't get a television until I was seven or eight years old. We didn't need one because we had other things to do, as Dad always said.
Plus, Dad believed that a person didn't need to be entertained. We were told to entertain ourselves which we did.
Dad was the one who taught Mom how to cook. He did a lot of cooking as a kid on the farm.
You see, my grandparents were all for equality. Chores on the farm weren't divided up by gender; but by age groups. The older six worked outside, the younger six worked inside. My Dad was the oldest boy of the younger six.
He learned to cook, clean, do laundry — all of the household chores.
This came in handy since my Mom wasn't particularly skilled in those areas.
I think that's why we were taught from day one that gender has nothing to do with ability. We could do anything we set our minds to do.
So we slopped hogs, did outside chores, built furniture and outbuildings, worked on vehicles. We learned a little bit of everything. We were tomboys who weren't afraid of rodents, frozen ponds, or getting dirty.
Not until my sisters hit the teen years did I hear any voices being raised (especially his). With one bathroom and three teenage girls we learned about patience and spit baths.
My Dad was the first man to give me flowers.
Dad had a gentle way with my Mom. For one thing, he let her make decisions for herself and the family. He listened to her point of view.
Mom was the reason we moved from Marion to Ottawa because of a job promotion.
I never heard him yell at her or degrade her in any way. For that matter, I never heard Dad do that to any woman.
My Mom and Dad were a good team. Dad was the quiet, thoughtful, decision maker while Mom was the more playful, women's libber — a generation ahead of her time.
Women weren't the weaker sex, in my Dad's opinion, but the gentle sex that should be respected and treated gently.
Even though there were, at times, four overbearing females in the house, Dad definitely wore the pants in the family. He always would listen to the female's side of an issue and then form his own opinion.
My friends always considered my Dad to be this "quiet giant" of a man called "Rez" with a soft voice and gentle smile. My best friend in high school still considers him to be the most "gentlemanly" man she has ever known.
Dad believed the values you leave behind are more important than the actions you do while here.
My Dad has left behind a legend of a gentle, hard working, loving man who put only God ahead of family.
— SUSAN BERG
