Eulogy for Joseph F. Wollet, Sr.
Delivered Oct. 25, 2010
Dad might be somewhat humbled by the number of people who visited the funeral home yesterday and came to Mass today. He was a shy man who never sought fanfare or attention for himself. When he was invited to The White House to have his Silver Star medal presented by President Harry Truman, Dad would not go. For him, he had seen enough of war and didn’t want to bring back its memories.
Dad came to Cleveland during the war—World War II. Like so many people in the Greatest Generation, the depression and the cataclysmic events of World War II played a pivotal role in defining him in so many ways.
Born in Jefferson, WI, to a stay-at-home mother and a woodworking father—with eight brothers and sisters, Dad had a typical small-town childhood. He played center on the high school football team. He built gas-powered model airplanes, ice skated on the Rock River and ran home on school days for a home-cooked lunch.
The war changed him a lot, though. He entered the Wisconsin National Guard, then was sent off to the infantry. Since his days building model airplanes, Dad had wanted to fly. The military gave him a chance by allowing him to join a program that brought him to Cleveland, where he attended classes at Fenn College so he could learn to fly. Dad fell in love here too, but the war and the army wouldn’t let him stay. His education ended abruptly when his flight program was cancelled and all soldiers with previous infantry experience were ordered back to the infantry.
On Christmas Eve 1944, Dad entered combat in the Ardennes forest in Belgium—the Battle of the Bulge. The things he did that night were gallant, heroic even, but they would haunt him for the rest of his days. Fast forward 25 years now, to a Christmas Eve in Walton Hills, and picture Dad trying to enjoy the holiday season with Mom, his daughter and his three sons. While the kids eagerly waited for Santa, Dad wept silently, haunted by the demons of the war.
Dad returned to Cleveland after his military service and became an auto mechanic. He eventually took up the trade of his father, his brother and several of his nephews—working with wood. As a carpenter, he built houses, including his own on Kydan Lane, but got special satisfaction from cabinet-making, crafting beautiful yet functional pieces of art with a miter saw, a lathe and the other tools he used so skillfully.
When he wasn’t working, Dad loved fishing, camping and boating with Mom and us boys at Kelleys Island. After they became empty nesters, they escaped Cleveland’s winters by heading to Naples, FL. They did that together until a year or so before Mom died, 15 years ago last night.
Dad wasn’t much for speaking, but lived his life humbly through his deeds. He exemplified:
* Courage, sacrifice, honor and perseverance in living through both the depression and the war.
* Dedication, care, hard work and quiet pride, both in his craft and in raising his family. He always said how proud he was of each of his children.
* Generosity to his children, his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren.
He was always ready to crack a joke, even up to his last week alive, and seemed to have a permanent smile on his face. Dad’s legacy won’t be in buildings or foundations or highways named after him, but in the dwellings he built for others and in the values he instilled in his family. He graced us with his love, often expressed in his own quiet way, for 87 years. Today he’s with Mom in a new dwelling place built for him.
Dad might be somewhat humbled by the number of people who visited the funeral home yesterday and came to Mass today. He was a shy man who never sought fanfare or attention for himself. When he was invited to The White House to have his Silver Star medal presented by President Harry Truman, Dad would not go. For him, he had seen enough of war and didn’t want to bring back its memories.
Dad came to Cleveland during the war—World War II. Like so many people in the Greatest Generation, the depression and the cataclysmic events of World War II played a pivotal role in defining him in so many ways.
Born in Jefferson, WI, to a stay-at-home mother and a woodworking father—with eight brothers and sisters, Dad had a typical small-town childhood. He played center on the high school football team. He built gas-powered model airplanes, ice skated on the Rock River and ran home on school days for a home-cooked lunch.
The war changed him a lot, though. He entered the Wisconsin National Guard, then was sent off to the infantry. Since his days building model airplanes, Dad had wanted to fly. The military gave him a chance by allowing him to join a program that brought him to Cleveland, where he attended classes at Fenn College so he could learn to fly. Dad fell in love here too, but the war and the army wouldn’t let him stay. His education ended abruptly when his flight program was cancelled and all soldiers with previous infantry experience were ordered back to the infantry.
On Christmas Eve 1944, Dad entered combat in the Ardennes forest in Belgium—the Battle of the Bulge. The things he did that night were gallant, heroic even, but they would haunt him for the rest of his days. Fast forward 25 years now, to a Christmas Eve in Walton Hills, and picture Dad trying to enjoy the holiday season with Mom, his daughter and his three sons. While the kids eagerly waited for Santa, Dad wept silently, haunted by the demons of the war.
Dad returned to Cleveland after his military service and became an auto mechanic. He eventually took up the trade of his father, his brother and several of his nephews—working with wood. As a carpenter, he built houses, including his own on Kydan Lane, but got special satisfaction from cabinet-making, crafting beautiful yet functional pieces of art with a miter saw, a lathe and the other tools he used so skillfully.
When he wasn’t working, Dad loved fishing, camping and boating with Mom and us boys at Kelleys Island. After they became empty nesters, they escaped Cleveland’s winters by heading to Naples, FL. They did that together until a year or so before Mom died, 15 years ago last night.
Dad wasn’t much for speaking, but lived his life humbly through his deeds. He exemplified:
* Courage, sacrifice, honor and perseverance in living through both the depression and the war.
* Dedication, care, hard work and quiet pride, both in his craft and in raising his family. He always said how proud he was of each of his children.
* Generosity to his children, his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren.
He was always ready to crack a joke, even up to his last week alive, and seemed to have a permanent smile on his face. Dad’s legacy won’t be in buildings or foundations or highways named after him, but in the dwellings he built for others and in the values he instilled in his family. He graced us with his love, often expressed in his own quiet way, for 87 years. Today he’s with Mom in a new dwelling place built for him.
posted by Joe Wollet at 9:18 AM
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