He was born on October 10th, 1928 at Van Hook, ND and died June 1st 1987. To a few he was known as Fredrick, to some Fred, to most Fritz, but I called him Grandpa. Grandpa Fritz would have been 85 years old this year but his big kind heart gave all it could give and went silent when he was only 59.

I knew him for the first 15 years of my life and not a day has gone by in the twenty-six years he’s been gone that he hasn’t crossed my mind. He was a good man, a kind man, a quiet man that seemed to be happiest when he had a hammer or a Louie Lamoure book in his hand. Some of my fondest memories of him are the times I had sense enough to just shut my mouth and watch him in his woodshop.

Watching someone do what they were born to do is one of the great pleasures in life.

Even as a child I knew I was watching someone special, someone that had a gift and enjoyed nothing more than sharing that gift with others through the things he built. The things he built were built well, built with precision, built with patience, and always built with kindness.

Many of us are fortunate enough to still have some of the things he built for us. Things we can touch and they touch us back. The ease in which he worked with wood is what I remember most vividly. It was as if he was simply letting the wood become what it wanted to become, as if they were partners, and the tools were an extension of him. A hammer, a chainsaw, a drill, a chisel, a trowel…whatever the tool was when it was in his hands it became part of him and without struggle did exactly what it was supposed to do.

An artist is defined as somebody who does something skillfully and creatively. Grandpa Fritz was an artist and I call on him often when I’m doing woodwork to guide my hands and to calm my mind. He was who a lot of people called on quite often in Lignite when a problem needed to be solved. Apparently he managed to acquire a lot of wisdom and know how in his all too brief 59 years.

He was a veteran of the U.S. Army, a farmer, a silver miner, a roughneck, Lignite Chief of Police, Lignite Fire Chief, a school bus driver, school custodian, managed the bowling alley, and wasn’t too shabby of a bowler either. A busy man that was always there for the people in the town he called home.

His handy work can still be seen around Lignite. The next time you find yourself in the Lignite City Park seeking shelter from the sun or the rain under the picnic shelters you can thank Grandpa Fritz. After all these years he’s still got us covered.

Happy Birthday Grandpa…We miss you.