I remember my first Father’s Day without my Dad. He died on Easter Sunday in 2011 with our family gathered around his Good Samaritan hospice bed in Wexford. After a June 1, 2010 terminal cancer diagnosis, we thought we were ready for it. But when you watch a parent take their last breath on Earth, the finality of what you are witnessing grips and chokes you. This I remember well from watching my Mother pass away in August of 2007.
I certainly realize that I am not alone in celebrating the special days that are set aside for fathers and mothers without them being here. I have been blessed to have a Dad who was a true personal hero for me my entire life. So many people have not been as fortunate. Today I feel very lucky to have had both my parents for so long.
Kenneth W. Richert was born on the North Side of Pittsburgh July 24th 1928. Several months after his birth, the world changed with the crash of the stock market. Growing up in poverty, food was sometimes scarce. He remembers several times that all there was to eat was a can of something. Surprisingly he never complained about it but would rarely share many details of his childhood. The Great Depression must have had an impact on him because he cleaned his plate every time he ate for as long as I can remember.
As World War II was coming to an end he joined the Army early and ended up in the South Pacific. Once there in the Philippines, he guarded Japanese prisoners. He was only 17 years old. (He lied about his age to sign up!) He was promoted in the field to sergeant and boxed a little in the Army, too. Once again he rarely talked about those days. Several years ago while sitting at Jersey Mike’s with my son Zach, he opened up and told us more about his time overseas than I ever knew.
He always wanted the five of us, Ken, Dave, Me, Pat and Nancy (in that order) to get an education. He started college at Duquesne University but had leave to work to support the family and never was able to get back to it. So he always stressed to us to get an education. Had he finished college, I’m convinced he would have been a terrific history teacher. He read more non-fiction books than any one I know.
Overall, he chose to live more in the present than the past. While he was proud of his service to our country, he never boasted about it. When asked what nationality the name “Richert” was, he would always say: “I’m an American!” Everything was pretty simplistic for my Dad. He led by example and had the discipline to exercise every day of his life.
Dad made his living on straight commission for 40 years selling cars, the last 25 at Bairel Chevrolet before retiring. I found his ledger while going through his personal affects and in it were the names, dates, and cars that he sold to every person. He developed an honest clean style based on some basic ideals.
On our mirror in the only bathroom for seven people in our home, he posted with a Dyna-Labeler a few words and phrases: “Positive Attitude”, “Enthusiasm”, “Self-Discipline”, and “Set your Goals”. Growing up, my friends would ask about it and I would just say, “That’s my Dad.”
He created a saying that he had made into a sewn patch that he gave all of us and the grandchildren. It is the ultimate combination of his value system. “Master Self-Discipline and become a Mental Millionaire.” I remember seeing it posted on my daughter’s dorm room mirror. I thought maybe it just might stick.
When he passed away, I realized that he was one of the richest men I’ve ever known. And it had nothing to do with money.
Now, I think about that every Father’s Day and I realize that I will never really be without my Dad.