Sorry it's taken so long to get to this but I wanted to share with those of you who couldn't make it to Neillsville the eulogies Dan and David Schield delivered at the memorial service Jan. 24 for their dad, Dr. Carroll Schield:
Dr. Dan Schield:
We all loved our Father. We all had
different relationships with him and hold different memories of him. With seven brothers and sisters, this is to
be expected, and now as the family extends to grandchildren and great grandchildren,
those memories continue to grow.
Now, my brothers and sisters often
comment about happenings in our childhood and question why I don’t remember
them. I imagine that some psychologist
could have a field day with that revelation, but my answer to that is this. There was just too much to remember!
Dad was an only child, grew up
during the Great Depression and though, maybe not to the extent of many, it had
an effect on his life that few of us today can relate to. He used his
basketball prowess to “get out of Dodge,” so to speak, and headed off to Drake
University in Des Moines, Iowa to find his path in the world.
I don’t know if I ever had a
conversation with Dad about how he got interested in dentistry. Maybe he told me but true to form, I don’t
remember! Regardless, at some point in time, he must have had a vision. He
headed off to Marquette to pursue his studies.
I would like to tell you a story -- actually a kind of spooky story -- about Dad’s and my experience at
Marquette. Marquette’s dental school clinic
was ancient when I was there in the late sixties and early seventies. You were never really assigned a particular
chair in the clinic but I always seemed to gravitate to a certain one whenever I
worked. One day Dad was visiting and came down to the clinic floor where I was
working. Now here is the spooky part; he looked around and then suddenly looked
under the instrument table on the unit I was working on. Under that table were
his initials that he had carved when he was there thirty years earlier!!
“Visionary”, what an interesting
word to use to describe our Father.
As many of you know, Dad was a man
of few words. Lets just say, he didn’t take any cues from two people he admired
greatly, Presidents’ Harry Truman and the great communicator Ronald Reagan. But
let me tell you, he was a very good thinker.
He was a member of The Greatest
Generation, experienced WW-ll and as typical of that generation, didn’t talk
much about those experiences. He was in the medical core that landed in France
two days after D-day. Not on the front line, but war is war, and all made many
sacrifices.
He saw Paris, and as the song goes,
“How you going to keep ‘em down on the farm after they've seen Paris.” Well, he
did come back to the farm, full of great expectation, I am sure, took over Dr.
Brook’s practice and never looked back. Back in those days, building a
successful dental practice meant working a lot, often on Saturdays, so free
time with Dad was limited.
But then,” Never Never Land” happened.
For those of you who don’t know, “Never
Never Land” is the name of our cottage that has been in our family for well
over fifty years. Credit Dad for the vision of how that would change things for
not only our generation but for the future generations to come. Now to be fair, Dad may have had the vision,
but we all know that it was Mom who made it happen.
Dad really enjoyed his time at
Never Never Land. For one thing, there
was no phone! There were many additions
to the cottage over the years but one addition that Dad particularly enjoyed,
was the basketball court. Now, this was not a full-size court, but just the
right length that Dad, with minimal amount of running, could come across the
center line, stop and knock down that two handed set shot that he was so deadly
with.
Dad loved to “putz”. Whether it was raking leaves, cleaning the
grill or painting the deck, he was always accomplishing something. I think this
resulted in teaching us to take care of our “stuff,” and to be self-reliant.
Let me tell you a little story
about that grill. We have a built- in grill
and that was Dad’s domain. He was in charge of grilling the steaks or chicken
and of course , the cleanup afterwards. I can remember one of my sister’s
friends visiting and making a comment about how clean it was and asking “don’t
you ever use this?” The answer was, of course, “we use it all the time. “ Dad would
religiously clean it and still today it looks almost brand new even though it
is used constantly.
Professionally, Dad was also
visionary. Making things last was important to Dad. Helping people keep their
teeth for a lifetime was not the norm in those days. Through hard work and education, Dad helped
to change that and drew great respect from his fellow professional and his
patients who truly benefited. I was fortunate to follow some of those patients
and received many appreciative remarks. Most of them went something like this,
“He didn’t talk much, but he sure was a good dentist.” I admired Dad for that.
He was a tough act to follow.
I would be remiss in not mentioning
that Dad influenced four of his first five children to work in dentistry. All
three of his daughters got their start working in his office. My exposure was a
little different. I have always said that I have more restorations in my mouth
then all my brothers and sisters together, so you get an idea of how I was
influenced.
In dental school, I had a roommate
who was struggling with his decision of choosing dentistry as a profession. Dad
happened to be visiting and Rich had a conversation with Dad about what it was
like being a dentist. Well Rich ended up graduating first in our class and told
me that his conversation with Dad helped him clarify some things and motivated
him to stay in the profession.
I started out by saying we all had
different relationships with Dad.
Because Dad and I worked together, I think he saw me more as a business
partner. Don’t get me wrong, I know I had a wonderful childhood, but being the
eldest son, I was often envious of my younger brothers who seemed to have more
of a “buddy relationship” with Dad.
Now I realize that things change
and there are a few years between us, as witnessed by the fact that I signed their
high school diplomas! I think I was twenty-one years old when I got my first
car. If I remember right, they each had one or two before they graduated high
school!
Perhaps some of you have a favorite
memory of our father that you can share later when we gather at the Country
Club, for Dad’s favorite lunch of minestrone soup and turkey sandwiches. For
me, my favorite visual and recollection of Dad goes something like this: [At this point, Dan removed his suit coat to reveal a cardigan sweater, then donned a hat and stuck a pipe in his mouth -- all of them once worn by his dad!]
May he be at peace in God’s arms. Thank you all for coming.
David Schield
To begin,
I’d first like to thank you all for coming to help us celebrate the life our
father. I’d also like to begin with a
sincere acknowledgement for someone I know will not like this or that I’m
saying this, but I’d like to recognize and publicly thank one person who
unselfishly packed up his belongings and moved across the country to become
Dad’s caretaker. He knew, and somewhat
feared that he would be with Dad when he passed. Fortunately he didn’t have to be alone and
isolated in Florida when it did happen.
Joey and I were with Dad on the day he was delivered the awful news of his
cancer, and we were together when Dad passed while in hospice. From my childhood hero, to my modern day hero,
Joe, I am proud to be your brother and would like to salute you
Dad was born
on Nov 21, 1917, and was the only child of Alice and Joe Schield. His mother was a stern woman who after
meeting and marrying Joe, convinced him to sell his part of the family farm and
move to Neillsville. Our Grandpa Joe
worked at the old Neillsville Condensery where he was as a foreman and worked
seven days a week, a likely factor in my father’s work ethic that I will detail
later.
Growing up
in Neillsville in the 1920’s & 30’s had to be interesting and Dad never
shared too much about it. His passion at
the time was basketball which he played regularly at the old Armory Building
near downtown on 4th Street with buddies that included names like
Lowell Schoengarth, Kenny Olsen, Herb Quicker, to name a few. His basketball skills were good enough where
he was offered, and took, a college scholarship to attend and play basketball
for Drake University in Des Moines, IA.
Being an only child, one can only imagine how Granny Alice felt when her
darling child was so far away. Either to
pacify his mother, or to cultivate his affection for dressing well and looking
good, Dad would mail his laundry to Neillsville where his mother would wash and
iron his clothes, then mail the box back to him at school. He was indeed particular about his clothes
and appearance for his entire life.
However, and
only after one year at Drake, Dad decided his passion wasn’t basketball, but
instead turned to dentistry. He
transferred to Marquette University and enrolled in the dental program the next
year. It was at Marquette that he met an
attractive young lady who worked as a secretary at the dental school. At the time, students were prohibited from
dating anyone from the department, but Dad managed to get permission, partly
because he was a good student, and partly because he was a good quality person
in the eyes of the school, another complement to our father.
After
graduation and Dad now a dentist, he was called to serve his country as a US
Army Medical Officer.
He was in
Louisiana, then went overseas to both the European Theater, and then onto the
Phillipines. He apparently walked up the
Normandy Beach only a few days after the famous invasion there. However, it was in 1942, while stationed in
Louisiana, and less than a year after they met at Marquette, that Dad asked
this beautiful lady to come to down and marry him. Of course she did, and they were married for
69 years until Mom passed a short two years ago.
Dad served
our country from 1942 until 1945 and when discharged, he, Mom, and now first
daughter Patricia, moved back to Neillsville where he started practicing
dentistry. He continued to practice
until the mid 1980’s when and finally retired after 40+ years of dentistry here
in Neillsville. That move back to
Neillsville was also the start of the “Baby Making Years”, and that they did,
producing a broad of seven children….Patty, Danny, Wendy, Joey, Mary, Jimmy,
and David.
Well, those
are the facts. Now let me tell you about the man.
Dad was a
driven and determined man. Private by
nature, stoic and professional. Dad
rarely let his hair down and most certainly not in front of his young children,
nor in his hometown. Publicly he was
quiet and reserved. His stature as a
professional and dentist really dictated that.
He was not a civic-minded, or politically involved guy. He preferred to stay out of that ruckus, and
was content to quietly exist and adequately provide for his children, which he
did, and rather nicely. We had a nice
house, food on the table, nice clothes, but nothing over the top. Those us who had cars in high school, or mini
bikes, and that first car for all of us after high school or in college…..those
were on us. We worked for the money, we
paid the insurance, and we paid for the gas and repair. We were all embarrassed and afraid to ask Dad
for extra money. It was one of those
unwritten lessons in responsibility we were all taught. However, we knew that if in dire straits, Dad
would be there when needed, and he always was.
Dad was a
hard working man, a true professional, and a really good dentist. In his mind, his role was to financially
provide for his family. Not so big on
the daily teaching & child rearing, nor so much on the discipline, that was
left to Mom. By his work ethic and
nature, he did in fact teach us that we, too, needed to provide for ourselves and our
families. Growing up in the Depression
Era, extravagances and excesses weren’t necessary, provided, nor entitled. They were earned for yourself with hard work
and dedication. Yes, he had nice things,
nice clothes, nice cars, the boat, etc.
But they were HIS things and earned with HIS hard work, and honestly, he
was generally not overly comfortable sharing them. Part of that may have come from his
upbringing during the depression, and partly perhaps because he was an only
child and never really had to share his things with any siblings.
I often felt
sorry for Dad being so private and alone.
He had few friends and associates he commiserated with. I wondered if he was lonely. But he wasn’t, not at all. He was perfectly content to be alone, spend
time at the cottage, pick blackberries, watch a baseball game later in life, or
his beloved Packers. He didn’t really
care for gatherings and needless conversations.
He was a content man.
He did enjoy
tennis, and his tennis partners, some of who are here today. They tell me Dad showed a different side to
them, talkative and engaging. Perhaps it
was with them he felt he could let down his stoic guard away from his
children. We are all happy and proud he
enjoyed tennis. Apparently he played
some as kid, but rediscovered the sport in his mid-50’s thanks to Joey. He played in earnest, and quite well until
his hands couldn’t hold the racket well enough -- that was when he was 88!
In August of
last year, when Dad and Joe had come up to Wisconsin to enjoy our family
cottage in Hatfield, he was diagnosed with a terminal cancer. That day was August 12, a day I will never
forget.
Over the
next couple of months he got to spend at Never Never Land in Hatfield where all
his children got to come to visit with him.
In October the four boys went down to Florida, packed his apartment and
him to Madison to be closer to family and medical care when necessary. It was only after one week in his new
apartment in Madison that a pain in his leg, which he insisted was nothing more
than a blood clot like Mother had, turned out to be the cancer
progressing. Only two days later he was
restricted from walking and eventually moved to Agrace Hospice in Fitchburg, WI
just outside of Madison. In the four
short weeks he was at Agrace he was well cared for, at like a horse, and again
got to see his children, some grandchildren, and even great grandchildren, both
in person and via Skype, or Shype as he called it!
On the Wednesday
before he passed, when he had stopped eating and was basically sleeping, I was
having a hard time with the thought of him passing. I spoke with the chaplain, who had just
witnessed a passing earlier that morning in person. I asked how she endured all that death around
them everyday. She told me it was
actually a really beautiful process and that Dad had begun his. I struggled with that, but over the next two
days I began to realize that she was right, he was peaceful and serene. While in this state they encourage you to
talk to the dying person to assure them everything will be okay and that it’s
okay to leave. The next day was his 96th
birthday and I let him know that he had made it, a goal I believe he wanted to
achieve and for which he was hanging for.
On Friday
morning, I again whispered in his ear that all was okay and he could leave
knowing everything was going to be okay.
I told him he taught us well and provided for and raised a great and
caring family. I promised him we would
take care of each other and watch out for each other, especially when times are
tough. I told him I would make sure we
stayed close and connected as a family.
He passed
later that day when Joe and I had stepped out of the room for just a few
minutes returning to discover he had passed, something I’m convinced he wanted
to do in private, like he lived his life.
So Family,
on our Father's dying bed, I promise to do my very best, and whatever it takes
to make sure we stay close, connected and united as a family for as long as I
am able.
In the
profound words of Frank Sinatra, which I think describe my father:
“Regrets, I’ve had a few, But then
again, too few to mention. I did what I
had to do, I saw it through without exemption.
I planned each chartered coarse, each careful step along the byway. And
more, much more than this, I did it My Way.”
Editor's Note: Photos Courtesy of Rebecca Schield.
