A Tribute, by Dick Hanzelka, 2002

 On the last day of the 1980 Southeast Iowa Writing Project, my Dad died suddenly from an infection of the pancreas. He was an eighty-year old retired butcher who always prayed he would never have to wind up in a nursing home unable to care for himself; his prayers were answered.

As I absently browsed through some of his belongings the day after he died, I was struck by the perfect summary of his life contained in the old black wallet he had carried with him for a very long time. One comer of the wallet had two staples in it that long ago failed in their mission to hold worn seams together. The only items in the wallet were a single dollar bill, two copies of "Today's Chuckle" and a religious scapular.

My Dad had little material wealth and was not concerned about it. A single dollar provided him with a walk downtown for a beer; the combination of exercise and liquid kept him reasonably healthy. He loved joking with people and had an original wit that rivaled Will Rogers. If I read one of his "Today's Chuckles," carefully tom from the daily paper, I read a thousand. He presented each one with the same sly grin of anticipation and, "here's a good one." He lived for a laugh and had no time for ceremony and pomposity from which he derived some of his heartiest laughter.

The religious scapular represented perhaps the most important part of his life. My Dad was a constant visitor at the Catholic church located across the alley from our house. It didn't matter what time of day it was, he stopped in the church. He prayed a daily rosary and constantly reminded those around him to trust in God. Saint Teresa is credited with saying that we should treat life as a second rate hotel from which you know you will be moving to a first rate eternity. There is no doubt in my mind that he had his reservations made and that he is enjoying his accommodations. I wish you could have know him before he became wealthy and changed hotels; now you will just have to wait to meet Louis Hanzelka -my Dad.

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