November 1999

Henry Hintermeister

A Final Good-bye

To my favorite child

Dad

Before I begin today I want to read a letter dad handed to one of the nursing caretakers over a year ago and which was given to me recently: On the outside of the envelope it simply says: "To my favorite child" (Open envelope, take out letter) He writes, "Dear Henry," (joke) Dad always liked humor. Once in a while something would tickle his funny organ and he would laugh uproariously, but most of the time he would just get an amused look on his face. He loved humor that had a bite in it. One of his pleasures later in life was to observe the barbs that would fly between his children during the many times the extended family would get together. He especially enjoyed it when the sons with quick minds would skewer the daughters who would usually have to go home and think about what was said to them for a day or two before they could think of an appropriate response. Dad lived in a time of the world's existence without parallel. He moved from riding horses to riding a jet

plane. A long trip for he and mom was to Texas. Yet his children and grandchildren have traveled the world from China, India, Australia, Africa, Europe, traveling altogether to around 50 countries. From an eighth grade education, he has seen

college educated sons and daughters and grandchildren. But who was this man called Ralph? Dad had many sides to him, most of them either successfully hidden from outsiders or only revealed in

brief glimpses to even those the closest to him. Dad grew up in a time when hugs, kisses and expressions of warmth were private exchanges, not public displays. His eight children would be hard pressed to remember his folks ever expressing physical signs of affection towards each other, let alone towards their children. This carried over into dad's life and during his years here on earth, it was only in the latter part that he loosened some of the feelings that he struggled to keep in his heart earlier in his life.

But this is not to say dad did not have many things he taught his children. One of the first things he taught me was to how to swear. Now some people have mixed feelings about swearing and the Bible does tell us not to use God's name in vain. However, there are a lot of swear words that taken by themselves, are simply expressions that are meaningless in other cultures. I always feel a little leery of those people who hold their heads high and say they don't swear. Dad taught me that swearing could be a stress reliever. He was also very creative in some of the things he could string together, something I have found very useful in my public writing career. I recall very vividly one hot summer day in our front yard of our farm place. Dad was struggling to put in

a fence post by the crabapple tree. He was having lots of difficulty digging due to the tree roots. I n the innocence of a three year old, I asked him sweetly if he was having fun. He replied in his brusque way, "No, I am not you little SOB" only he was very cognizant that I did not know how to spell, so he used the entire phrase to help me out. Well, I immediately took this new-found vocabulary into the house where mom was busily doing the washing. When I told her, she got that Holy Spirit look on her face that only mom could get, wiped her hands on the dish towel and proceeded outside where she confronted dad with his just completed English lesson.

Crab apple tree in happier times I won't tell you any more of that conversation, but even at that tender age, I began to see the side of dad with which he struggled throughout his life, that of the spiritual side of life. Dad, if you will, was dragged kicking and yelling into the Kingdom of God. He was bitterly opposed to the Gospel before he was

pursued successfully by the hounds of heaven. Without constant and loving spiritual discipleship in his life, dad wrestled with life and with God, gradually forming a farmer's almanac type of theology. He was his best at spotting hypocrites or those men of God whom he felt were of no earthly good. I can well remember mom's gracious hospitality to many traveling preachers, men who helped shape the lives and hearts of all eight children. Some of the men, dad showed real warmth and some, well, he didn't have much time for them in his life. As we brothers look at ourselves as we slide into the latter stages of life, we often fight those same battles, do we not? Dad's influence extends into our lives in this area and probably to some degree, that

Jim, John, Henry, Lyle, Don of our own sons.

So, as we remember dad today, what is it you remember the most? What positive and negatives are there in our lives today because of dad? What can we do to avoid passing on the negatives and what can we do to assure we pass on those good things that dad modeled for us? Let me mention several things to think about. One, dad had a heart of service. As I traveled into adulthood and still lived down in the area of Minnesota that God has forgotten, Avoca, I began to see a pattern whenever other adults would talk about

dad. They would always relate a time when dad had done something for them, built something for them or helped them out at a time of need. Dad expressed the goodness of the Lord not in words, but in actions. I don't really know if serving the Lord was his motivation or not. Dad didn't talk much about the Lord. But many of his actions spoke louder than the words of many born-again Christians who speak a lot but do little.

Two, dad was a faithful provider. Don came the closest to siring as many children as dad and the rest of his looked at the experience of growing up with our siblings and chose to have fewer. The further each of us get from childhood, the more we marvel at how dad worked to provide for the eight outlaws he and mom raised. Our world today is filled with misfits who know how to produce children but are not committed to raising them. Dad was a wonderful model of someone who worked day and many nights, to make sure we had enough food and clothes and the other necessities we thought we needed as we grew to adulthood under the farmhouse roof. There are days when many of us despair if we are going to have enough to make it through life financially. Dad must have had years of this as he struggled with weather, insects, prices and the other uncertainties of farming. For this example, we rise up today and bless dad.

Three, dad modeled the role of a long-suffering husband. I don't say that in jest, for as many of us know by now, marriage is a balancing act between two people who at times wonder who this stranger is that we have married. Today, people marry without any real commitment to the long term. Restless wives, fed lies by romance books and movies, leave husbands and children for a life that exists only in their minds. Husbands by the millions, find the tedium of marriage too much for their fragile egos and leave their wives and

impressionable children only to start the bitter cycle all over again with someone else who has stars in their eyes. Yet dad who had his ups and downs in his marriage, showed us that lifelong commitment to one another overrides temporary fits of insanity when we would like to annihilate one another.

I would like to close with two things each of us siblings can think about in our own life as we say our earthly good-byes to dad. There are two aspects of dad's life that were part of his Germanic make-up and were also part of his culture that we need to work at overcoming in our generation and in those we have caused.

First, dad grew more expressive toward his children as life narrowed in time and focus. But growing up, I cannot remember dad saying "I love you." Now some of you might think that is because he didn't love me specifically and that may be true, but I can't remember him saying that to you either! Does that mean dad did not love us? No, but expressing that verbally or with a big hug was not something he was comfortable with. We need to make sure this aspect of life is not passed on. Almost without exception, when I am on the telephone with my 21 year old son, we end our conversations by saying, "I love you

son" and he says, "I love you, dad." Do you do this with your sons and daughters? If not, nothing will haunt your children and grandchildren at your funeral more than the absence of these words in their memory bank. Second, I can only remember one time in my life when dad encouraged me spiritually in a vocal way. After I came home from a trip before I was married, he and I were out in the front yard and he was draped over the top fence rung talking with me about what I would do next.

He said, "Well, from what I can tell, you would make a good preacher or a politician." I said, "Dad, I didn't know you had such a low opinion of me!" We as dads, need to be a spiritual anchor in our children's and grandchildren's lives. We need to talk to them about spiritual issues no matter how difficult it is to break the barrier. We need to know they are truly born-again and are in the process of surrendering their lives to the Lord. And much to my children's chagrin, they know this is not a process that will end when they move away from home, but will continue throughout the years God gives Lyn and I on the earth. Our grandchildren are our second chance in life to do this. Unlike husbands and wives, grandparents are perfect in the eyes of their grandchildren, at least for a few years. We need to get involved enough in their hearts to make a difference that will last for eternity. Dad would have liked to have been here in spirit today,

not just as the body that housed him temporarily here on earth. He loved family gatherings. Even during these last couple of horrible years, his eyes would sparkle many times when family would gather around

his bed or wheelchair. It would give him great joy to see the family work hard at staying in touch and getting together regularly in the years ahead until the Lord comes or until He begins the selection process of taking us home. Dad, we address you as if you were still here though we know you are with the Lord and that we will see you again. Thank you for your life. Thank you for your patience with eight fighting puppies. Thank you for providing for us. Thank you for being a husband of mom for 65 years. Thank you for allowing each of us to live in a home where the Gospel was welcomed into our lives. Your one solitary life has made a difference.

South Dakota years

Dad (r) and his brothers

Dad loved his 3-wheeler and the color red