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Great to hear you again, sp00ns! Thanks for adding
lol. Next time. Honestly, before Hubski I had no idea what irc was either.
Where have all the flowers gone was a song in heavy rotation in our family too. Great memories, thank you for sharing
I listened to Childish Gambino today.
I am coming off the heels of my grandfathers funeral, in which my super talented cousin Samantha, sang a favorite song of my grandfather, John Denver’s “Today.”
Before you judge, listen. It’s beautiful.
In case anyone is interested, below is the Eulogy I gave. The grammar is not edited.
I once caught a fish up at the cabin on lake Charlevoix. I held the fish out of the water, showing everyone. Then from the porch I heard a bellowing voice say, "give the thing a fighting chance, dammit!"
It was, of course, Opa. He wanted me to put the fish back in the water so it wouldn’t die. He loved animals. He dedicated much of his time to feeding critters. Deer, birds, squirrels, rabbits, feral cats and dogs. But most of all, he took pleasure in feeding people. In fact, if he ever offered you something to eat and you declined, he would continue to offer it to you, over and over, until you accepted.
A common scene,
Jack: “Would you like a cookie.”
Person: “No thank you.”
Jack: “Well then, how about two?”
And this would continue until you finally found yourself with the cookie in your hand.
He was born in 1934 and raised in both Germany and Nazi occupied France. He was many things; a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a grandfather, an entrepreneur and a friend. He was known by many names; Joachim, Achim, Jack, Fudda, Dad, Opa. No matter how you knew him or what you knew him as, I guarantee you had never met, nor will you ever meet another person like him. We could all live 100 lives and never meet another “Jack Clausnitzer.” He was an awesome individual, a powerful non-conformist.
As a child he saw the effects of war, first hand. At the end of WWII an 11 year old Jack had to make his way from the farm he was sent to live on in France to his home in Germany. There he was reunited with his family. The perils of war and post war, would give him a compassion and empathy that would last the rest of his life.
He was a pacifist, he believed that every person deserved to be treated with dignity, no matter your economic status, race, ethnicity, gender, religion or sexual affiliation. He had absolutely no patience for tyrants, bigots or bullies.
He came over to the US as Brighton Michigan’s first ever foreign exchange student and lived with Pat and Ella Sharkey. He worked for Pat, who owned Pat’s Market and was the town butcher and Rudy Bōwen’s Michigan Landscape Nursery. The local rotary club was impressed with Jack and raised money to send him to his first year of college at Albian. Overwhelmed by the hospitality of this country and in particular the people of Brighton MI, Jack resolved to become a US Citizen. To do so he joined the army. He was stationed in Manheim Germany, which was also his home town. It’s at this point that “Jacks Story,” Becomes Jack and Heide’s Story. His friend since childhood, Heidede Garogina Niemann married Jack in 1956. Shortly thereafter, their daughter Susie was born. Once Jack had served his time in the army and Susie was old enough, they crossed the Atlantic and arrived in New York with a VW Bug, some books and little else.
Imagine that? You are leaving your homeland, your wife speaks no conversational english, you have a new family and you were striking out with very little resources in order to provide a better life, in a great community. He wanted to live HERE.
11 months later, their first son Tim (my father) was born and 18 months after that, my uncle Tom arrived, then the final piece of the puzzle, my Aunt Helen was brought in to the family.
Jack attended the University of Michigan while working at a machining company and he became convinced that Numerically Controlled (or nc) machines were the future of manufacturing. When he couldn’t convince the owner to allow him to pursue this. Jack decided to start his own business.
To do this Jack and Heide enlisted their close friends Dave and Shirley Barton and John and Joyce Ewing. They all drained their savings and borrowed $125k to buy an American Tool Works NC Lathe and place it in an old rented pole barn in Pinkney. In 1965 Brighton NC Machine came to fruition.
Jack worked tirelessly day and night for years. Often sleeping in the shop on a small cot. Times were lean, but every once in a while when there was a good pay day, Jack would come home with giant Hershey bars, a ring of bologna and some canned fish to feast with his family. On special Sunday nights Jack would hunker down and watch the Wonderful World of Disney with his wife and kids.
Shirley Barton joined jack full time in the late 1960’s and eventually, the Barton’s and the Clausnitzer’s owned Brighton NC 50/50.
Jack was a creator. He was a doer. As my Aunt Susie recently told me, “He had no governor on him, he was either full blast or sleeping.” This is captured in a photo board outside, if you would like to see.
He took great satisfaction in action, in doing. He was fond of the Tagore quote, “I dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and found that life was duty. I acted and it, the duty was joy.”
Some people spend their lives complaining about the world they live in and other people fashion the world they want. That was my Opa.
Eventually, Brighton NC grew and would employ hundreds of people over the years. Every morning, without fail, Jack would walk the floor of the shop and great everyone. Regardless of how large the company got, he wanted to know every employee.
Jack always brought with him a loaf of bread. Whether he was visiting a sick friend or just stopping in for a visit, the bread was under his arm. To this day, Brighton NC distributes hundreds of loaves every week to suppliers, customers, employees and the like.
He had an insatiable desire to feed people. In fact, if you were to dine with him, you would never catch him serving himself until all others had been served first.
The Barton’s and the Clausnitzer’s didn’t just grow a business together. They grew their families together. They bought a large house out on Teahen rd. that we referred to as "The Stone House." Growing up, the Stone House was at the center of all of our lives.
My Opa spent his days working at the shop, then he'd come home and tinker on his tractor or some other contraption that needed repair, then head in for supper. He would come in from the outside in a white t-shirt with some oil stains on it, usually about 30-45 minutes after my Oma would have liked him to come in.
I bet many of you remember the kitchen table at the Stone House. It had a stained glass lamp that hung low and cast a red light over the table and outside the window was a purple lilac bush and some bird feeders. Oma, Opa, Shirley and their dinner guests would have some lively debates at that table. So lively that dictionaries and encyclopedias would inevitably emerge as ideas and definitions were challenged. Opa was pretty good in these debates. He had a way with words and a tremendous vocabulary. But his true oratory power came by way of the…… pause.
You never knew when he was done talking because he was apt to taking long…….pauses while still……..in a sentence.
He was extremely idiosyncratic. I’m sure many of you remember that if you asked him “how are you doing?” He would always reply, without fail, “I can’t complain, as of yet.” One day, after he had gotten sick I asked him “how are you, Opa?” And he replied, “I could complain, but I won’t.”
He was fond of giving bear hugs, of calling his grandchildren “Sphellecup,” he liked pickled herring, smoked salmon, Jack knives, pockets full of pens, smoked oysters, music, signing, drinking, ringed bologna, marzipan, heath bars, meditating, hiking, hay-riding, toys, taking his family on trips, kesslers, Lebkuchen, mechanical contraptions and of course his friends.
Jack, Heide and Shirley paid for their employees to take college courses, gave profit sharing and took their entire extended family on trips to Chicago, Toronto, Cancun and the Bahamas. Jack and Heide gave to Lacasa, gleaners, Oxfam many others and have fostered children and opened their home to many people in need.
My Opa is my hero.
When people ask me why I don’t work for the family business I reply that I didn’t want to work for my Opa, I wanted to be my Opa. I am forever grateful for the example he has set for me.
I admire my Opa so much that I gave my son the middle name of Achim. His first name is Atticus. People that are fans of literature will often tell me that my son has some big shoes to fill. I always tell them that it’s his middle name that carries all the weight.
On behalf of the Clausnitzer clan; Thank you all so much for being here and helping us celebrate the life of my grandfather, Jack Rudolf Clausnitzer. As is evidenced by all of you here today, it was a life very well lived. And if he is in heaven now, and some angel asks him, “Jack how are you doing today?” I have no doubt that he will once again say “I can’t complain.”
We love you Opa, we will miss you.
Thank you, lil. Any writing I’ve learned to do is a result of Hubski. I’m so grateful to you and the others here for sharing this and reading it. I feel like you’ve all wrapped me in a giant digital hug.
I have been asked to give the Eulogy. I will rework this post in to it. Thanks again.
I could only listen to a few minutes of audio. How can a parent, whether Democrat or Republican, support this?