Dear editor,
I grew up living in the funeral home in Marathon City. My parents, Lawrence G. and Elsie Lohr, had purchased the funeral home and furniture store in 1944. Dad had been working at a funeral home in Madison when he heard that Frank Stieber had his business for sale. I was not quite 1 year old when we moved to Marathon City.
The funeral chapel was on the first floor of a large two-story brick house. My bedroom was directly above the funeral chapel. Living in such proximity, my sisters, Jackie, Linda and I, grew up observing the funeral business. One of my observations was how dad behaved with the same reverence and respect for the families of the the deceased. It didn’t matter how rich, well connected, religious affiliation, gender or sexual orientation of the person or family. Pastors, priests and rabbis also spoke of the the positive aspects of the life that had passed. Mourners passed through saying how good the person had been. Marathon City was a small town, so, in some cases, I knew better. It is strange that today, some pastors, priests, rabbis and media personalities condemn whole groups of people as evil. In a small town setting it is difficult to hate individuals you know, it is however, easier to condemn outsiders we are not in close contact with.
In the furniture business, Dad taught me that if one sold good quality furniture, at a fair price, and gave good service, one would always have business. He also taught me that one did not qualify things, or people, as capital. Things and people are to be valued for the qualities they had, not for the money one could make from them. When my parents built Pine Valley Golf Course, it was with the idea of having a course, that would be well built and maintained, but also be affordable for the average income person. He worked with my mother as a true partner in business and supported the academic efforts of my two brilliant sisters. He taught me fairness in dealing with all types of people was expected of a good man. Empathy for others, especially those less fortunate was important.
I was taught to see the best in people we met, and not to make negative judgment based on stereotypes. I watched many Western and B gangster films at the Marathon theater, which was upstairs in the village hall across the street from our house. Those films created heroes out of hard physical men who did not shy from using violence. I saw my father as a different male role model. While he was physically very strong, and did hard physical work, that was not what defined him. He was thoughtful, valued education, and was liked by almost everyone who met him. He taught me to use my talents, effort and will to make the most of the time I have in life. He also believed that wealth brought responsibility. I was taught to believe the Biblical story of Lazarus, the beggar, eating the scraps of the master’s table being raised to Abraham’s bosom after death, while his miserly master went to Hades. Wealth and status do not make us better than those who have not been as successful.
When I think of my parents, I think of the differences in the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. People today often say they would like to see the Ten Commandments engraved on court house walls. They like the “Thou shalt” statements and the tribalism of the Old Testament. The Old Testament teachings make us feel powerful. The New Testament is written about the teachings of Jesus. Rarely do people say they would like the statements of Jesus from the beatitudes, engraved on the court house walls … “Blessed are the merciful, the meek, those who mourn, those who are persecuted, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the poor (Luke), the poor in spirit (Matthew) …”, or His teaching us to … “Love our neighbors as ourselves.” My parents were New Testament type people, and, as a man, dad exemplified those virtues for me.
Rick Lohr of Marathon
Editor’s note: Wausau Pilot & Review gladly publishes commentary from readers, residents and candidates for local offices. The views of readers and columnists are independent of this newspaper and do not necessarily reflect the views of Wausau Pilot & Review. To submit, email [email protected] or mail to 500 N. Third St., Suite 208-8, Wausau, Wis. 54403.
