A Quiet Man with a Great Legacy

June 6, 2013 – republished on June 6, 2016

Homer Theodore Folkert. Today is his birthday, a wistful day for me. He would be 101 today but he only actually lived half that long. But what he accomplished in that half life he can be very proud of, believe you me.

He was six feet tall and skinny as a rail with dark brown hair combed straight back and parted in the middle, a receding hairline on each side, ruggedly handsome, muscular arms, had a slight build, probably never weighed more than 150 pounds. Most of the time he wore bib overalls and a small cap with the bill turned up. And he carried a lunch bucket. He had a rather low friendly voice which you never heard very often. He wore a hearing aid, without which he was difficult to communicate with.

As a small boy he had been bedridden with rheumatic fever for a period of time, which left him with a hearing deficiency. He had surgery when he was about 35 or so, called a double mastoidectomy, I believe. This apparently improved some painful headaches but left him with little hearing in either ear.

He was a hard-working man and spent about a dozen years as a hardwood floor sander and refinisher. He used to come home every evening with saw dust all over him from sanding floors all day. A man totally dedicated with trying to provide a comfortable living for his family. A quiet man, not vocally religious, but with a totally honest and generous nature, he didn’t attend church with us because he couldn’t hear what was said. He always had a good appetite, starting the day with cereal with cream, eggs over easy, bacon, toast and coffee with cream, probably a diet which led to his clogged arteries, which then was called hardening of the arteries, for which there wasn’t repair in those days. He was struck by this problem at about 45 years of age and was then unable to work and finally succumbed to a final heart attack just before his 51^st birthday.

During a period of time when the six of us lived in a tiny house at 227 North Glenwood, a house with the water faucet in the front yard and the bath in the back yard, Dad spent lots of his evenings drawing building plans on butcher paper saved from Mom’s trips to the grocery store. They had purchased about a half acre of land across the street from our little house which sloped downhill from Glenwood rather steeply and it was there the he was planning to build us a home. After a few years he was able to borrow some money from the local bank, Fairmount Bank, and hired an excavator to dig him a place for a foundation and basement for his house. Then a few months later he ordered the pouring of concrete for the foundation. The next phase began a few months later with building concrete block walls for the basement. He was building a house that would be strong and enduring, using 12” blocks instead of the usual 9” blocks. These were heavier to handle but that was his plan. He used to work on his project every night after work until dark and all day Saturday and Sunday. It seemed like it took years, but he finally got the walls all up to the roof level. Then he ordered two steel I beams to support the roof and the future house above the basement. The beams were set in place by someone with a machine capable of handling them and then Dad started framing in the roof with 2 by 12 rafters to support the roof and house above, which was then followed by roofing paper and hot-mopped tar for waterproofing. Once this was completed he installed windows and a walk-in door beside the drive-in door opening, which was enclosed with plywood.

After a few more months he started doing the plumbing for the kitchen and bathroom and constructing a septic tank behind the house since the basement was too low to hook up to sewer in the street. Then came the build out of the kitchen counter and cabinets and divisional walls for a couple of bedrooms and the bathroom. Then the electrical wiring phase began and finally the installation of the furnace.

Bear in mind that was all done by one man in his spare time with his own hands and no help from anyone except me sometimes mixing and carrying concrete, concrete blocks and lumber for him.

But the basement was finally completed and we moved in and vacated the tiny house at 227 and became residents of 240 North Glenwood, a house with indoor plumbing and a forced air furnace, luxury at last and the successful completion of Dad’s years-long project. He had built a home for his family. A greater success than most of us will ever achieve in a lifetime.

But it didn’t stop there. He was committed to build the house on top of the basement and a few years later he started on that phase. This phase of his project took several more years and was completed as he had the time and money to complete it. He bought lumber as he had some cash and framed in the outside walls, the interior walls of three bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, dining room and a living room with a fireplace. Then came the construction of the roof, the floor, the outside walls, the exterior wood shingles, the windows, the doors, the stairs from the basement, the plumbing for the kitchen and bathroom, the electrical wiring, the ductwork for the furnace, the sheetrock, the taping and finishing, the build out of the kitchen, bathroom, dining room built-in cabinets, the fireplace and chimney.

This is really, really a long story made really, really short. This was one man building his house all by himself with his two hands, strong arms, intelligence and intestinal fortitude. This took guts and endurance and dedication and is a project that most of us would be incapable of and would lack the qualities to complete.

But he did complete it for the most part and the family moved upstairs. By that time my older sister and I were married and had moved on but my younger sister and brother and Mom and Dad moved upstairs and gained another rung on the ladder of living standards.

Dad got to enjoy his accomplishment for a few years before his poor health became too much, but Mom lived there for many years to come, along with the younger two siblings.

But that wasn’t all Dad did during those years, although it is hard to imagine that he had any time left for other activities. He always took us wherever we needed to go. With me it was Boy Scout meetings every week. He went along and became an Assistant Scout Master. With my brother he went to Boy Scouts and each and every sporting event for his entire little league, high school and college sporting years. And for the girls he was there them just the same in whatever they were involved in.

He was unselfish, honest, responsible and led and taught by example in his quiet and humble way. That is his legacy. What greater legacy could one leave or hope for?