A lot of my happiest memories of Karl are from when we were young children living in Edmonton from 1964/1965(?) to 1975. Daddy took us out on most weekends for various activities. The outdoor swimming pools in the hot weather, skating rinks in the winter, picnics at different parks in the city or just a trip to Dairy Queen to get some ice cream. Sometimes we would just take drives for the fun of a drive discovering more areas of the city. Most Saturdays were our mother's shopping day downtown. One Saturday, I remember Daddy and us children in the kitchen trying to make a cake in the Mix-Master. How I miss that Mix-Master. I don't think that cake turned out very well.
As the eldest daughter, I was the first one to learn to read in school and became a life long reader. Daddy would take me to the big library downtown regularly so I could get more books. I always came out with a stack that I barely carry myself. I will always treasure those visits to the library with my Daddy.
We would constantly harass Daddy to draw the Doomba Man. This was an event where he was reciting something in German while starting to draw the different sticks and circles to make the Doomba Man. We always giggled and hooted with laughter. And we never knew what he was reciting as we didn't speak or understand German.
One winter day, Daddy decided it would be fun to see if he could drive the car through a really, really big snowbank. With us in the car! Well, it stalled and got stuck in the snowbank. Thankfully, we were less than a block from home so it wasn't that inconvenient for us to walk home while he dealt with the car.
Daddy built a special table for us with his skills as a carpenter. It had a square base and a round top. He stained alternate squares on the top, creating a chess board. We could also play checkers on that table. There were also little holes drilled into it so we could put toothpicks or pegs in, but I don't remember what that game was. Daddy made a skating rink in our backyard a few winters, even though we had the community skating rink a few houses away around the corner. He put floodlights up so we could skate in the evening. We were a big hit in the neighborhood with friends coming to play skating games with us in our backyard.
He frequently went out in the evenings to attend Knights of Columbus meetings. Possibly other meetings elsewhere as well. We would always ask him, where are you going? His reply was always, "When it's your business to know, I'll tell you". I thought I would fix him one time. I hid in the Volkswagen van before he was leaving for a meeting. After he started driving I popped up and said, "so, where are you going". The poor man nearly had a heart attack. He was not happy at all having to take me back home and was probably late for his meeting. Daddy once brought Peter and I to a Knights of Columbus hall. I remember a pool table and shuffleboard. One of the guys playing pool did a shot where the ball went straight up into the air. It startled the heck out of Peter and I. I'm sure they all had a really good laugh about that.
Daddy rarely got angry and was so patient with us. Imagine the chaos and noise with 5 young children. But the few times we knew when we pushed the limit. He only had to threaten us with that voice and we behaved immediately.
He taught me to drive when I was about 11 or 12 years old. In those days, we could go to shopping mall parking lots on Sundays to practice (stores were closed on Sundays). We also would drive on the country roads just outside the city limits. One winter day, with high snowbanks on each side of the country road becoming basically one lane, he had me stop, turn around and head in the opposite direction - without going into the snow bank. Now this was a standard stick shift Volkswagen van. It was challenging, but I did it. I think his driving lessons made me the good driver I am today. Some 50 years later, not one accident.
He was such a creative, goofy and funny guy. As a young adult (later teens), I had a really hard time waking up for my job(s). Once he dribbled water on my toes. Another time, he moved the stereo speakers into my bedroom and started blasting music. He would often say, "Go to bed" in that German accent of his and a grin on his face. Once, I found a note on my pillow: Go to bed.
Daddy would often invite newly arrived refugees to our home in Calgary (early 1980s) when he was with the Calgary Catholic Immigration Aid Society. We would be invited to some of their homes as well for dinners. I feel blessed that I was exposed to people from different cultures, and I believe it may have instilled my interest and appreciation for other cultures around the world.
I do not remember Karl ever judging anyone. He was such an open, kind, funny, creative and generous man. As we became adults and started having our own independent lives, Karl was always so, so happy to see us when we visited or went out to dinners together. If any of us children needed help in our adult lives, he never questioned it or made us feel bad and helped us out without question. I was not doing well at one particularly dark time and I told him I felt embarrassed and ashamed that I needed help at this stage in my life. His response was: "Since you were born, it is my job to take care of you. You will always be my little girl."
I miss you Daddy.
Anne
