Dale F. Rothe

Dale F. Rothe, 9/2/35 – 6/7/09

Dale was loved by many people, most of whom considered him to be one of their best friends. He was a caring person to all who met him, a mentor to everyone who needed help, a role model to all who knew him, and a positive, encouraging person who treated everyone with respect. Dale fought a spirited battle to stay with his family and friends. He kept his faith in God, his spirit, and his sense of humor to the very end, and was an inspiration to anyone who knew his story. He loved fishing (particularly with his son and grandchildren), bowling, golfing, spending time with his family and friends, and was a devoted local historian of American Indian culture. To say we will all miss him is an incredible understatement, but we’re all better off to have had some time with him.

Gramps taught me from an early age that if somebody gives you something out of gratitude you are to send them a thank you note. So this is my thank you letter to my Gramps (Dale Rothe)…

Dear Gramps,

Where do I begin to thank you?

Thank you for being an unforgettable, lovable, incredible grandfather.

Thank you for bringing Mom and I into your home and caring for us when I was just a little boy. You had to be more than a grandfather to me at times. I remember seeing a uniquely real and vulnerable side of my Gramps in those days.

I know you are proud of me. You are proud of all your grandchildren. You faithfully attended soccer matches, baseball games, special events and told us through more than words how proud you were of us. I remember when my sister was born with Spina Bifida our family had to live away from home for weeks-on-end and we stayed in the Ronald McDonald Home. For the next 17 years, you volunteered there by giving magnificent speeches. Gramps we are so proud to be your grandchildren.

Thank you for teaching me about finances and investments. I will miss you helping me with my taxes!

Thank you for valuing the importance of family. Why even Aunt Estelle loved you!? We have a large legacy to fulfill as the one who would unite all us kinfolk.

Thank you for being real. You taught by your character what it is to be a genuine, caring, loving, and unprejudiced.

Thank you for your passion for various cultures (particularly a love for Africa) and your compassion for the oppressed (i.e. Native Americans). Gramps, you are more generous than anyone I know. You saved your change for my Christmas gift, now Sarah and I have committed to save our change for a Native American mission.

Thank you for my first visit to the casino. I was 18 years old, we were just going to play a few slots. Unknowingly, the State of Wisconsin days before raised the legal age to 21. Needless to say we got busted. I was escorted out, while I let you finish your slots!? As you put it, “It is my way of supporting the Indians!”

Thank you for taking the time to teach me how to play cribbage, bowl, and even take a swing at fantasy baseball (go Barney’s Baby Boppers). Thank you for those fishing trips, and outings to the golf course to hit some balls. Thanks for being an all around fun guy (your birthdays were like month-long events).

Thank you for your hysterical repertoire of corny jokes, wittiness and that wonderful golden-capped smile.

Thank you for the hope and faith you showed these past few months as your body suffered cancer. You had a peace in the face of death and confidence that you would soon be with Jesus. You were courageous and brave, and gave an excellent example for us all to follow. You are now at rest and now in the awesome presence of your Savior.

Thank you Gramps. I love you. I will miss you.

Love always,
Hutts(head)

marry me

It was a cold snow covered day, but the sun was shining brightly through the trees. We took a walk like we do every Friday. Everything about the day was normal. I wanted it to be very normal. As we walked through the snowy pathways of the park we talked about our day and spoke sweet nothing to each other.

As we made our way to the green railed bridge over the shallow creek my heart was throbbing and throat lumpy. She didn’t sense that I had been planning this normal day for months. We talked a little while and I held her in my arms. I quoted her a list of things that I cannot wait to do as our relationship grows. The sun was settling behind the trees and the cold was setting in, and she decided it was time to leave. I let her go a few steps and said, “Wait.” She turned. I caught her eyes and said, “There is one more thing I cannot wait to do. I cannot wait to ask you just one question.” I lowered to my knees, pulled a ring out of my pocket and gazed my choking eyes into hers. (A very normal day was about to change into infamous memory as) I mouthed the words, “Will you marry me?”

With a leap, Sarah, was screaming, crying and crushing my knee! “So what is your answer?” I exclaimed. “Absolutely” she joyfully answered.

We enjoyed the moment together, hearts warmed on the cold snow covered day. To think I’ve been praying for this women even before I knew her…

Find out more information at www.biscuitandjuice.wordpress.com

itchy and scratchy

Two weeks ago, I went canoeing down the Wildcat River with my girlfriend, Sarah. We had a wonderful day basking in the sun, fishing with little success and enjoying the changing of the seasons. Little did I know, this would be a day I would remember for weeks to come.

Somehow during the journey down stream I got a good old batch of poison oak. I never had this contagious rash before (and can now say, I do never want it again). In fact, I thought my little zit-thingies were just a bad bug bite. A few days had passed until I realized my legs were ballooning and I all I wanted to do was amputate my legs off with a hatchet because they itched something-horrible.

I called a trustworthy doctor who suggested I medicate with various lotions, creames and sprays. Needless to say 15 days later I am still bearing the scars of that wonderful canoeing trip. I would not take that day back for anything, but I do wish I would have caught that itchy plant before it caught me.

go brewers

The last time a baseball team from Milwaukee made it to the playoffs I was just becoming potty trained and mouthing my first few words, “Robin Yount!” Ah, those were the days!

This year the Brew Crew barely squeezed into the playoffs as a wild card. I am excited and proud to say that I am a Brewers fan. Though I do not support the binge-drinking associated with Miller Park, I am a big fan of the sourkraut filled brats and the 7th inning stretch Weiner Race. Go Polish Sausage! And let’s go Brewers. Roll out the barrell and get another win for Bernie and the gang.

eat more chikin

What do you get when you have 20 people, lots of food and a large dancing cow? The “Chikin Makeover” Winner of the Week!! 

Yes, I am this weeks “Chikin Makeover” winner.  Thanks to Janel who nominated me for this grand honor. This saturday Chick-fil-a came over to my house with a fully catered meal for 20 of my friends. We all walked away with prizes, I particularly appreciated the presence of the big cow, which even busted a few moves for the neighborhood kids [she even gave me her cowbell!?]. It was a perfect day, and not too mention a free meal!

nickname

What is in a nickname? A nickname is sometimes considered desirable, symbolising a form of acceptance, but can often be a form of ridicule. I have had my fair share of nicknames over the years. Some I enjoy, some are annoying, some are not worth repeating, and some are fighting words. Some of my most revered nicknames are:

tweedy [what ma called me as an infant because i had a big head and little hair]

Juice [what my ma and college girls called me]

JT [not after Justin Timberlake, but close friends who knew my middle name]

Hutts / Huttshead / Huttsinski / Huttsy / Huttster

Hut-hut-hutts [my 5th grade teacher Mr. Miller]

Hutts-is-nutts [dubbed Dave K.]

knuckle head [dubbed by Eric B.]

snuggle bear [what all the girls in high school called me] 

moco [means "booger" in Spanish, dubbed by my chilean sister]

PJ [aka: pastor Justin]

peej [aka PJ]

padawan [pastor Kenny's longtime name for me the newbie pastor]

the polish sausage [pastor Kenny's newest name, which compliments my heritage]

high gas prices

What is a few bucks spent on gas, when you have a lifetime of memories from one road trip?

Over the weekend I traveled down to wild and wonderful West Virginia. I packed about 2 weeks worth into 5 days. I had many refreshing conversations with longtime friends while marinating on Gods rustic mountains.

A spectrum of feelings: I was refreshed by the glory of God’s creation. I was overjoyed to see moco feo, Ray & Tiff over good pizza and talks about God. I was embarrassed by a fender bender with “The Don’s” getaway vehicle. I was encouraged to be among the worshippers of Hilltop. I was stuffed with good eatin’ at Bob & Elva Jean’s. I was blessed to spend quality time being enamored with the most wonderful woman, her name is “beautiful.”

High gas prices can’t stop me from these memories.

earthquake

This morning I awoke from my dreams to the shaking of my bed. I have never felt this sensation before. I went back to bed. It wasn’t until the morning that I realized from the news we had experienced an earthquake. In Indiana? You think of California or India, but not the Midwest.

The U.S. Geologic Survey reported that the first earthquake had a magnitude of 5.2 and shook for about 15 seconds as the temblor rumbled at about 5:37 a.m. The quake was centered about 40 miles north of Evansville, IN., along the Wabash Valley Fault Zone, which is north of the well-known New Madrid fault area. An aftershock came about 11:30am while I was in the office.

How cool? And what power!!

bearing the scars

I went to the doctor today. It has been over a week since I had fractured my nose. My visit with the doc lasted only 5 minutes. No, he didn’t fix much in that time. He only told me what my options were. As the doctor put it my nose has had a lot of “trama” over my life time [fracturing it now for the 5th time]. He said that I have broke it too many times just to crack it back in place. The only option I would have to fix it would be to do a complete top to bottom overhaul. In other words, plastic surgery. There is no way. I am not into this. I am sure the cost and pain would be outrageous. I suppose I will settle for the other option…to live with a crooked and bumpy nose. Not that it wasn’t crooked before!?

 

I remember what my nose doctor, Rocky [fitting name for a nose doc], in high school said, “Your nose makes you, you!? He is right. My already deformed nose has character… at least I need to keep telling myself that. Over the pst couple of weeks I have been working on a beard. Its my first time, and no pun intended it’s really growing on me. The beard is a good distraction from the nose.

 

It’s just one more thing to look forward to when I get to heaven someday. A new nose. As Jesus bears the scars of sin on His hands and feet, I bear them on my shnoze.

 

  

broken nose #5

It was New Years Eve in the back lot of the church we had our first ever old men vs. young men football game. The field was perfect. Soggy and muddy. The teams were recruited ahead of time. The young men had an air of we-can-out-run-these-guys and the old men had an air of with-age-comes-experience.

The game became kind of lopsided with the old men taking the advantage behind their veteran QB, Pete Sr. I play defense mostly, trying to strip the flags from their belts and potential TD’s from their score. For the most part I did okay. Until Kyle Miller took the ball. Kyle Miller has thighs like a tree trunk, but cannot cut East to West in the mucky terrain. Pastor Kenny and I were going after him at the same time. I reached for Kyle’s flag and snatched it out. I fell in the process right into Pastor K’s knee. CRACK. I knew it right away. It was broken. My nose didn’t bleed  much nor did it hurt all that bad, but it was most certainly bent. Pastor K later took me to the ER in our muddy clothes. I have been down this road 4 other times:

1. baseball (chop hit to the face)

2. softball (flyball blocked by another glove)

3. frisbee (run in between 2 throwers)

4. basketball (elbow in the box)

5. football

So breaking the nose is nothing new. I suppose this Polish shnoze of mine is sort of like a magnet. I needs a little stick that says, “Causion, danger, will break if touched.”

I go to the doc next week to get it worked on. Been there before too. Hopefully this time they will make it a little straighter.

Oh, and the old guys won!