May 11, 1921 Cohoctah Twp, Michigan. Royal and Eva Schrepfer celebrate the birth of their fifth of seven children, Donald George Schrepfer. Typical of the times, he worked the farm with his father and brothers, dropping out of school after the ninth grade to work the farm full time. In his 20's he left the farm for work in the city. The war was on and workers were scarce. Companies recruited off of the farms. The Michigan Shade Tree Company offered him a job doing line clearance for electric and telephone wires and he took it. Fast forward...1945. Don has that fateful breakfast at Straub's Grill in Clawson, Michigan. The owner of the little restaurant was the former Police Chief, Fire Chief and one of the founding fathers of the town of Clawson, so the Grill was a busy place. Don caught the eye of the owner's daughter, Bernice. He was good looking, drove a fancy Buick and, as the story goes, when "Red" made up her mind to something, end of discussion! He didn't stand a chance (even though she found out later that the Buick was his boss' car. Dad loved that part of the story.) They were Married in March of 1946. The union would produce 4 sons, 2 grandsons, 6 granddaughters, and numerous foster and step daughters, grandchildren, and great grand children. Who was this man who was so popular with everyone and loved so dearly by his family? He was a father in every way -- a role model to be proud of. Through example he taught the Schrepfer boys: A father's responsibility for his family -- We always had a roof over our heads and food on the table Respect for women and children Respect for authority A work ethic that included honesty and loyalty to employer He was a gentleman and a gentle man. He rarely raised his voice, or his hand, to discipline. But when he did raise his voice, you listened out of respect. As a teen I bad-mouthed Mother behind her back. He stopped me and defended her, commanding the respect that a Mother deserves. It didn't matter if he agreed with her or not. My Son's web site displays a wonderful picture of Dad with the following inscription demonstrating the impact he had on his descendants: It is with profound sadness that I announce the passing of my grandfather, Donald Schrepfer, on April 26, 2002. Grandpa Schrepfer was one of the kindest, gentlest men I have ever known; the kind of person we should all strive to emulate. He had a subtle yet profound effect on all who knew him and his kindness will surely live on through all of those whose lives were touched by his. Dad was a patient man. In the mid 50's he spent two weeks driving an automobile to California and back with two small boys (are we there yet? are we there yet?) and a woman who could actually read maps! This was one of the highlights of my early childhood and undoubtedly a trying experience for him. He repeated it again with Dave and Bob when they were old enough taking them out West. Dad's common sense approach to situations and his great people skills resulted in promotion within his company from worker to foreman. Bell Telephone and Detroit Edison needed permission to cross private property to access their lines and to clear the trees and brush from them. Problem land owners were often given to Dad; his assignment: to gain right of way privileges. He usually succeeded. He was one of the first Mr. Moms as Mother emancipated herself and went to college to pursue a career in teaching. With his help, I learned how to cook and manage some of the household chores. He was a teacher for us, showing us: How to plant and grow a garden How to do landscaping and yard work - he was very proud of his flowers How to mow a lawn and maintain the lawn mower How to chop wood for the fireplace and maintain the axes How to work on my first car and maintain it. How to use tools including saws, planes, drills, screwdrivers, wrenches, bench grinders and vises. How to fix toilets and do general plumbing including how to sweat copper pipe How to lay floor tile and do general carpentry work including drywall and plastering. How to throw and catch a baseball, often batting balls to us to sharpen our fielding techniques Having raised two children of my own, I often marvel at how Dad took all four of us in stride and kept going. And the Schrepfer boys were not your ordinary boys. We left his tools out in the rain, we ran over them with the lawn mower. We experimented with electricity, melting two wires together in a wall outlet in our bedroom. We stored worms for fishing in our dresser drawers, making Dad crawl under the house in the spider webs and darkness to remove what must obviously have been a smelly dead rabbit trapped under the foundation. There was no rabbit, just fishing worms in the dresser. We built crystal radios and drilled holes in our window sills and asked him to climb trees, or let us, to string our antennas. One of us had him bring his hydraulic bucket truck home to rig a 130 ft antenna for a ham radio setup. The roof started smoking from the antenna due to over driving of the signal and Dad came running asking that things be shut down before the house burned down. Or the time we decided to build a skating rink in the back yard one winter. Dad watched us mound the snow in a large square area, provided the hose and let us mist the grass in sub-freezing temperatures -- multiple layers over a week's time -- to build up enough to skate on. In theory it was a good idea. He laughed and watched as we impatiently tried to skate on the thin crust. The sun came out, melted our efforts away, and the spot in the yard wasn't the same for a couple of years. We chased each other on foot and on bicycles, often requiring Dad to replace storm doors or windows after we crashed into them or through them. Never content to sit still, we learned to hunt frogs, and catch fish. Dad was always there. He taught us how to row a boat, rig a hook to a line, place the sinkers on properly and attach the bobber. He taught us how to spin cast and fly fish. He taught us how to scale and clean fish and prepare frog legs for cooking. My children remember him doing much the same for them. We filled his garage with one project after another. He often scratched his head and wondered. But his apprehension often turned to wonderment and pride as his sons built boats or assembled televisions out of junk parts rescued from the neighbors' trash or turned his garage into a rock band practice studio. When the local Boy Scout Troop was going to disband because no father would volunteer to be Scoutmaster, Dad let me take him into it. He was scared to death of the new role but he knew how important Scouting was to some of us and he sacrificed his time and comfort level learning as much as he could to keep the troop together. He was there with the right words. Lynn and I built a wooden sailboat from a blueprint and plans when we were pre-teens. He took us down to the local lumberyard where we had to order the non-stock marine plywood, mahogany, and Sitka Spruce and a bunch of brass screws. He helped us pick out clear oak for the framing. He laughed when I threw the oak pieces in the ditch to soak and subsequently drove nails into his garage wall to use it as a jig for bending the oak pieces into the compound curve necessary for the side frames. He couldn't understand why we built it upside down. He shook his head when we cut a hole through the bottom of the keel for the centerboard to go through. And he helped us make some of the expensive marine fittings out of cheaper angle iron. As launch day came, we put the last coat of paint on the hull, waterline striping and all. The marine paint can said, "Let dry 12 hours before launch." We timed it. At 6:00am we woke Dad up and he helped us carry the boat to the water and launch it. IT SANK! I cried. But Dad just stood back and said, "It's wood, it will swell. Let it sit in the water for a day, Then bail it out. It will be fine" He was right, as usual, and the boat saw many fun filled summers of use. He was there to show us how to tie our first dress tie before church or the school dance or how to use a razor before we actually needed to, including the use of toilet paper as a stiptec to stop nicks from bleeding. And, I still can smell the Old Spice After Shave that he loved. His love for his work and the outdoors made him the ideal expert when it came time for the dreaded leaf collection school project. His knowledge of tree types and help gathering leaf samples made my research and identification easy. I got an "A" for the collection and extra credit for the presentation. My son used the same collection as a guide for creating his own when the assignment was given years later, also getting extra credit for the outstanding work. And it all began with help from Dad. He had a sense of humor that allowed him to laugh at a joke or at himself. He inherited this from his father, Royal, who always had a good story to tell at the Schrepfer family reunions. Dad's simple one-liner comments following someone's foolish story or statement, spoken quietly so as not to offend, were often profound and one of my son's favorite memories of Dad. To his grandchildren, he was a big hugable teddy bear. My daughter remembers him for his sense of fun. Her favorite memory is of Dad teaming up with her to steal Nestle's Toll House Morsels out of the cupboard behind Grandma's back. And then having to dispose of the empty bag without getting caught. To Kelly and Kari, he was there when they came home from school to watch over them and be their taxi when needed. Or just be a friend and listen to them while their parents were busy working. To Rachel, Erin, and Laura, he was Grandpa Schrepfer. Loved for his gentle, kind ways and his warm smile. Always interested in and proud of what they were doing and anxious for their next visit. And the youngest grandchild, Shane Michael, was born in time for Dad to hold him and be proud of another male Schrepfer to continue the family name. I came here today to celebrate with you the life of a man rich in assets. For on the balance sheet of life, assets aren't measured in education or monetary units or tangibles, but, rather, by a man's word, his character, and the love that he manifests. And by those standards, Dad was a very rich man. His legacy will live on through all of his descendants. It echoes through their lives, their fond memories and their love for him. As descendants of his, tell your children and their children often about the wonderful, gentle man who was known as Donald George Schrepfer, Dad, or Grandpa Schrepfer.