Memories of Time with Grandpa Wissler
 

There are so many fond memories and images of Grandpa Wissler that each of us has, I thought I would share a few of mine to possibly add to your own collection.

 

Perhaps the most enduring memory I have is the time spent with Grandma and Grandpa at the Michigan Dunes.  He and Grandma shared their love of the Dunes with us, and their generosity made it possible for me and my family to spend countless hours at their Dunes house over the past forty-plus years. One of my earliest memories is as a very young boy walking on the beach with Grandpa and Grandma all the way to Warren Dunes State Park and back, running, splashing, and dancing in the pools formed in pockets of the beach.   Of course, being at the Dunes meant hours in the garden helping Grandpa, first at Chikaming Gardens near Sawyer and later at Ed Sneads near Bridgeman.  There was the familiar ritual of loading the garden boxes into the trunk and packing a cooler with cold drinks and wet wash clothes to wipe off the sweat and dirt.  Time spent in the garden was certainly not considered work, at least according to Grandpa, although we worked hard, it was fun and he taught me to respect the earth, to be productive and creative growing vegetables for the table and to give to neighbors and friends.   Another Dunes ritual was playing tennis.  Grandpa loved tennis; he and I spent many hours together on the tennis court.  He would hit his famous “Hoosier Hop” and then utter a fiendish giggle as the ball hit in bounds and then took an impossible-to-return spin.  Afternoons at the Dunes often found Grandpa sitting at the folding card table on the porch surrounded by his beloved pathology work, yellow note pads, a black T-Ball Jotter pen, a tall glass of iced tea and a calm, relaxed demeanor that was easily interrupted to answer a question or to give a smile or hug.

 

As many of you know, Grandpa loved to travel, his work took him to the far corners of the planet, and he taught me the love of travel and how to feel comfortable in foreign lands with different customs, foods, and people.  Grandpa and Grandma’s generosity made it possible for our family to travel together to places many only read about in books.

 

Grandpa was at times the family doctor; once while fortuitously attending a hockey game of mine at Lake Meadows in Chicago, he witnessed my front tooth being knocked out onto the ice.  Grandpa quickly located my tooth and put it back in place.  Thanks to Grandpa I still have that tooth some 32 years later.

 

Grandpa was one of those special members of what Tom Brokaw called the “Greatest Generation”. He rarely talked about his accomplishments, he never forgot his humble beginnings born out of the Great Depression, and he taught me about character, integrity, fairness and hard work.  Of all his many personal and professional accomplishments, and there were many, I can honestly say I never heard him once complain about work or stress, he never seemed to view work as a burden, nor did he let it interfere with family.  On a number of occasions while teaching and attending seminars in Colorado, he took the time for us to spend a number of days and nights camping in a small pup tent in the Rocky Mountains and hiking together in the Maroon Bells.  His stories about being a Boy Scout and Scout Leader helped inspire me to become active in Scouting with my son, Ben.

 

Grandpa loved parties, especially birthday parties - and he loved his own birthday parties best of all.  He would even plan, organize and cater his party and bake his own birthday cake to boot: hickory nut with a little low fat frozen yogurt on the side.

 

Grandpa was an avid photographer, who always had a camera hanging around his neck to chronicle a family event or Dunes sunset.  Often, after a family trip or notable activity which he had photographed he would spend hours making up small personal photo albums to give us as gifts, complete with post-it note labels next to each photo. 

 

Most of all Grandpa loved his family and friends. He would be quite pleased that all of you came to his party here today.  Today we celebrate the life of Grandpa Wissler, but we also pay tribute and offer comfort to Grandma, his lifelong partner and soul mate.  Their enduring love and friendship forged together over 70-plus years is an amazing testament to them both.

 

Grandpa loved jokes, puns, poems, and limericks, writing many of his own over the years.  No birthday or family gathering would be complete without a poem or limerick to start things off.  So, in honor of Grandpa I will close with a poem:

​

When Great Trees Fall
Maya Angelou
 
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

​

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

​

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.

​

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.

​

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly.  Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed.  They existed.
We can be.  Be and be
better.  For they existed.