Thinking of John & Alice in heaven and all their loved ones here on  earth.  Peace to all of you.

Lewis & Monica

Here are some of my fondest memories of my grandpa.


When I was in high school, I had planned to spend a few days with just me and grandpa at his house.  Being from a family of five kids, this was special to get one on one attention from grandpa, however, I was a little nervous that we wouldn't have much to talk about to fill our time together.  Much to my surprise, grandpa had a full itinerary of events planned for the two of us including helping to deliver meals on wheels, going out to eat, going for walks and even being treated to a movie--in this case, the movie was "42" about Jackie Robinson.  It was fun to see grandpa in his servant leader role with his dedication to meals on wheels and it was really nice to have time together, just the two of us.

Another memory I cherish is when I was visiting a friend in the Dallas area to celebrate her birthday, I had decided to go surprise grandpa with a visit to share my very recent news that I was pregnant (with Kirbie).  It was so sweet to see the sheer joy in his eyes when I shared this news that he would be gaining another great grandchild.  With grandpa's aphasia, it was really special to be able to deliver this news in person to see his facial expressions and know with his smile, how happy he was for me and Otto.

Lastly, I fondly remember a Sunday that I celebrated Mass with grandpa when I was in Plano living with Aunt Kathy during one of my clinical rotations for PT school.  When I arrived to attend Mass with grandpa in the chapel, all of his lady friends were very interested in meeting me and he introduced me as his "friend, " due to his aphasia.  I knew that he knew who I was and they were able to figure out I was his grand daughter--- but honestly I felt even more honored to be revered as his "friend."

I will always love you Grandpa!
Katie




Facebook post  December 25, 2020 

Katie Muehlstein Segner

‘Silent night’ has always been my favorite Christmas song. Now the lyric “sleep in heavenly peace” resonates more than ever as my sweet Grandpa Mader joined Jesus just in time to celebrate his birthday last night. 

Our hearts our sad to lose such an amazing man and patriarch of our family here on Earth but he is surely shining his bright, guardian angel light down on us right now. 
 
Love you so much Grandpa and thank you for creating such a beautiful family and reminding us of the true meaning of Christmas.











The Story behind the Photograph:

The photograph chosen for Dad's memorial page was taken at a Valentine's Day social held at St. Joseph's Retirement Village where Dad lived for almost 7 years.  As the family lore goes, Mary Ellen suggested that Dad wear his suit to this social during one of her visits.  There might have been some grumbling at this suggestion, but when the day arrived, Dad remembered the conversation, remembered the time and date of the event, dressed up in his suit and made his way to the lobby of St. Joseph's where this photograph was taken by one of the staff.  This photograph was digitally sent to Kathy who then sent it to all of us.  I still remember the day I received this photo in my email and how happy I felt to see Dad so content, with a smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye, at peace with himself and with his surroundings!  Dad's amazing memory for the details of his Korean tours, for sports trivia, for his prayers proved to be his saving grace when he had his stroke.  This, in addition to his higher level executive brain functions (planning, organization, attention) gave him the ability to succeed at St. Joseph's. Dad knew where he kept his stamps, bills and other minor, but necessary items. He completed his own self-care, followed a daily schedule to attend Mass, dinner and social events. He took his own medication with the use of a pill dispenser for many years, unprompted. In the rehab world, this is like receiving the Heisman Trophy! 
        This one, candid photograph, speaks volumes to your post-stroke achievements but also to your peace and contentment that were captured on that day.  
                  Cheers, Dad!

During the summer of my freshman and  sophomore years at Gonzaga University, one of the Jesuit priests who taught me the required course, Intro to Speech Communication, showed up at our house in Anchorage, for a surprise visit.  He had been assigned to work in Alaska that summer and on his way back to Spokane, was looking up his students.  When I arrived home from work that evening, I was surprised that a college professor would make such a "bold gesture" to visit his students and even more surprised that Dad would ask Fr. Bargen why I received a "B" rather than an "A" in my speech class.  I remember being disappointed that I received the lower grade because I thought I had finally conquered the "public speaking jitters" in this class and had done well enough for the higher grade.  Apparently, I had vocalized this "injustice" enough to impress Dad to ask Fr. Bargen this question at the end of his visit. I don't recall  Fr. Bargen's response.  I was still in the state of disbelief that I was able to attend my own parent-teacher conference! I will admit I was mortified by Dad's question because I didn't want my teacher to think I was another college student bargaining for higher grade. 
         A few weeks later, when I arrived back in Spokane, a note was slid under the door of my dormitory, with an outline of my grade for this class.  The grading curve was higher than I thought it was for this class and I earned a fair grade. 
            As I look back on this memory, so many years ago, I realize now that I was lucky to have a Dad who cared enough to listen to my disappointment and then to speak up for me when he likely knew I lacked the courage.  Thanks, Dad, for encouraging all of us to pursue an education. 

Because of aphasia, Dad found it difficult to spontaneously say “good bye”, but could say “adios”.  At first I found that amusing because he had never studied Spanish, and I was surprised that a Spanish word was easier for him to say.  Then I realized the literal translation of “adios” is “to God”, as in “going to God”.  Dad was preparing for the last leg of his life journey for a long time.

Adios, Dad. 

Adios.

Because of aphasia, Dad found it difficult to spontaneously say “good bye”, but could say “adios”. At first I found that amusing because he had never studied Spanish, and I was surprised that a Spanish word was easier for him to say. Then I realized the literal translation of “adios” is “to God”, as in “going to God”.   Dad was preparing for the last leg of his life journey for a long time.

Adios, Dad. 

Adios.

Before there was an official  “take your daughter to work day”, the  junior high in Alaska had a day set aside during 8th grade for our parents to take us to their place of business. Dad showed me all around the office, from the key punch machine,  to the card reader, to the very large computer, before setting me in front of the key punch machine. After diligently punching the cards (see picture)  we moved to the card reader and then saw the output from the computer, which was some sort of picture. It gave me a glimpse of how he spent his days, and has enabled me to explain a little bit to my students of the enormity of the early computers and how they worked.  He also took me out to lunch where I had my first taste of black-eyed peas! 

During the 1970's, in addition to the  tradition of tacos and popcorn, the popular sit-com "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" aired on Saturday nights.  Dad would watch the show with those of us who were interested and I was a faithful viewer.  I would get so frustrated with Ted Baxter, the anchor man for the  WJM news show that Mary helped produce with Lou Grant.  It seemed like Ted was always close to getting fired...but never did.  I would ask Dad things like, "How can he get away with making all these mistakes?  Why doesn't Lou Grant fire him?"  Dad, on the other hand, just laughed at Ted Baxter and enjoyed his antics for what I realized, as an adult watching him in reruns, was good acting and comedic relief.  
          I never received an answer to my "philosophical" questions from Dad.  He would just smile, shake his head, maybe thinking, "You will understand this better when you enter the work force!"  Either way, Dad, I think of you and your laugh when I watch DVD episodes of this show...and like Mary Tyler Moore, "You can turn the world on with your smile."  Thank you for helping me (eventually) understand the exasperating Ted Baxter's of this world and for helping me to appreciate good acting!

Some of my earliest memories were of Grandpa pulling my arms and top half up as I dangled upside down from the recliner, an activity we called “tummy muscles.”

 I remember going as a family to Trail Dust, a steakhouse in Dallas with a huge indoor slide. Grandpa rode the slide with me. I think he must have been 80 at that time.

 When we moved to Houston, Grandpa came to visit us one week in the fall, around my birthday. To my parents’ delight, I asked for a little drum set that year. Grandpa was watching me one day after school. It was just us two in the house. We started singing “Deep In the Heart of Texas.” When it came to the clapping parts, I would bang the cymbals. Whenever I hear that song, I always think of him. 



My parents took me bowling a few times and I enjoyed it.  So I joined a junior bowling league with other teens.  On the first day, I bowled horribly, with scores in the 60's.  My other teammates  and competitors were excellent, experienced bowlers.  Although they were very kind and encouraging, I felt humiliated.  When Dad picked me up and asked how it went, I burst into tears and said I didn't want to do it again.  He told me that he didn't want me to quit after going only once.  So I returned the following week and completed the season.  I eventually improved and have enjoyed league bowling for many years since.

A few years later, I entered a small, local bowling tournament.  I asked my parents not to go watch me because it made me nervous.  I didn't bowl well in the team competition.  But I perked up and got lucky during the singles competition and won a trophy.  When I got home, I was greeted by my family's cheers and a congratulatory banner that my sister, Mary Ellen, had made.  How did they know???  My parents admitted that they had been at the bowling alley watching me the entire time.  They hid behind someone every time I returned to my seat (which was after each turn).  They sure made me feel cherished that day.  But I still can't believe I never saw them there!

Dad was very generous to others but frugal in his personal spending.  When we wanted something new, he often asked "What's wrong with what you've got?"  I remember Dad asked me that question on two occasions in particular - when I told him I had purchased a new bowling ball and later when I was buying new furniture.  I didn't have a good answer either time and I must confess that I made the purchases anyway.  But I now carefully consider what I REALLY need.  I haven't forgotten his lesson about need versus desire, about what's important and what isn't, and about being grateful and satisfied with the blessings that I already have.

Dad taught all six of us kids to drive in our 1967 Chevrolet Bel air station wagon.  My brother Michael and I happened to be close enough in age that Dad decided to teach us together.  He often took us across the street from our house in Alaska ( in the Mormon Church parking lot) to drive around, practice parking and "do donuts" if there was snow or ice.  When Michael was behind the wheel, Dad sat back, calm as can be, reading the newspaper while he went through the driving instructions.  When it came to me, Dad sat as close as he possibly could---just in case he might need to grab hold of the steering wheel, or pump the brakes! I remember being in tears most days after our driving lessons.  I  thought he believed  I was automatically not as good of a driver as my brother, because I was a girl.   But Dad of course was right to be extra cautious...One of the first times I took that station wagon out for a drive on my own, after I had my license, I backed right into our yard fence!  I may have added my dent to that car---but I wasn't the only one who did!
 

When I think of Grandpa, I will always remember:

Christmas on Mantlebrook, and reading "Twas the night before Christmas" (which will now forever hold a special meaning and remembrance) 

Playing cards and eating snacks (nuts, popcorn, chips and dip) 

Scruffy beard (his 5 o'clock shadow) and bear hugs 

"See my finger... See my thumb...see my fist? You'd better run!" 

Telling me I had a good pitch at age 7 or 8 (maybe an untapped talent)

Communicating to me shortly after the stroke that he could still read and understand, but he couldn't say his words

Piles of magazines on the coffee table

Night owl

Lemonade

Teaching me about "empty calories" after I attested to my second stomach just for dessert

Batteries in the freezer (and the tongue test)

Spring Creek Barbeque (presumably a favorite because of the coupon) 

Pepper

Picture of the Pope at the entrance, Bless Us O Lord by the kitchen table

"Happy Birthday" (we visited to celebrate his birthday after his stroke, and he always clearly said and sang the song along with us) 


Here is a  "post stroke" memory.

While I was staying with Dad a few months after his stroke, the  Wednesday paper came with all the grocery store inserts.  At the end of lunch I told Dad we probably needed to go shopping on Thursday and said he should look through the inserts to see what was on sale and what we should buy, thinking he would only look at the Tom Thumb insert.  After 45 minutes I was wondering what he was doing.  When I checked he was trying to make a list and having great difficulty, so I suggested he just circle the items.  Another 45 minutes later he was done.  It was then that I realized he had gone through Tom Thumb's, Kroger's, Albertson's, Sprouts' and ALDI's advertisements.  

I wasn't sure if he wanted to go to all 5 stores or if he was just marking items he wanted.  Yep, he wanted to go to all 5 stores.  So we did. He even told me which order we should hit them.  Four hours later we were done.  After the first three stores (Albertson's, Sprouts and Aldi)  he indicated that we should go home.  I thought we were done for the day.  NOPE.  He was worried about the milk we bought and thought we should put it in the refrigerator!  After the groceries were put away he looked at me with a gleam in his eyes and said "ready"?  So off to Tom Thumb and Kroger's we went.


I know I didn't visit or call as often as I should or could have. I know Grandpa delighted in visits from us all. Christmas eve, when I didn't realize what was imminent, we blessed our food, and I had a beautiful memory of Grandpa come to mind: While I was co-oping, I occasionally visited Grandpa. On one of those occasions, he had made me a steak dinner with potatoes and corn. It was a beautiful gesture made with so much love. Sometimes there was an awkward silence, not knowing what to talk about, but we both enjoyed our time together.

Another somewhat timely memory is New Year's Eve 2003 (ringing in 2004). I was staying at Grandpa's as I transitioned from college to career in the area. Grandpa was celebrating playing cards with friends. I couldn't help but wonder if he was ok when it got to be well past midnight (probably near 1 am) before he got home... You'd think it would be the other way around! 

I love you Grandpa! 

As I was leaving for college for the first time, Dad hugged me, told me he loved me, and said "Have fun."  What??  Have fun??  Not "study hard," or "get good grades," or "be careful," or "stay out of trouble," but "Have fun."  I guess he knew that's what I needed to hear.


Dad's love of sports carried over into his Speech Therapy after he had his stroke in 2013.  That October, I was in Texas visiting him and he was following some baseball games between his favorite team, the Cardinals and the team, Janie, his speech therapist, was rooting for.   One day, when it was time to get ready for his speech therapy appointment, Dad seemed to be taking an extra long time to get ready.  When he came out of his bedroom, he had his St. Louis Cardinal's baseball cap on along with his Cardinals' jacket.  The Cardinals had beat Janie's  favorite team the night before and he was prepared to communicate this victory, if not in words, certainly in  bold gestures!  Janie let out a big laugh when he arrived for his appointment, as did I when I saw Dad exit his bedroom that day.  What impressed both Janie and I was how well he put all of this playful communication and humor together.  He was attentively following the match up, keeping track of who was winning, coming up with a plan to communicate that the Cardinals had won the night before! The executive brain functions that he used in this one simple gesture were extraordinary for someone who was recovering from a stroke.  On that warm October day, he hit one out of the ball park  in the World Series of rehab!

Road trips were a recurring event when we were growing up in a Military family.  I remember that Dad would keep a bag of lemon drops next to him while we drove onto the next transfer station. Fast forward to when Dad was well into his 80's, during a phone conversation, Dad told me he was going on a road trip to San Antonio from DeSoto.  I asked him if he was going to bring some lemon drops.  He asked why and I told him I remembered that he always had lemon drops next to him when we traveled. I also gently suggested that he bring that cell phone that was always on the kitchen counter.  A week later, I returned home from work and there was a message on my phone recorder:  "This is Dad.  Nothing wrong.  Just calling to let you know that I made it home ok. I brought some lemon drops and that phone.  Ok.  Nothing wrong. This is Dad."  I was surprised he took me up on my suggestions but more touched that he called to let me know he arrived home safely.
      Dad was an easy traveler.  For his 80th birthday, several of us took Dad to Arizona for Spring Training.  Kathy, Michelle, Mitch and I took a side trip with him  to the Grand Canyon with a stop in Sedona.  In 2003, he came up to Tacoma with Katie and he went with the flow again, taking a ferry to  Victoria, Canada, taking in the sights of Seattle and a baseball game, going on a picnic.  He stopped in Tacoma a few years later on his way back from Alaska  after a visit with Michael.  It was also fun to meet up with Dad in Las Vegas when Matthew got married.  Good times, Dad...thanks for the memories. 

Dad was very shy and humble.  He always enjoyed company but was not comfortable carrying a conversation. He enjoyed listening to conversation especially if it was lively but seldom participated unless it was to laugh.  

We would watch sports together - sometimes without many words being spoken. It was comforting being in the same room and quietly watching with him.

He always lit up when he saw his grandchildren and great grandchildren.  He would let them sit on his lap, read stories, lift them up upside down, lift them onto his feet, play “tummy muscles”, piggy back rides, etc. With Justin, the rougher the better.  Annamarie would run to him as soon as she would see him.  She did not talk much as a toddler and they would often just sit together quietly with no words being spoken.


Dad was a good athlete and believed in staying fit.  He was an avid bowler with a very strong average and enjoyed his men’s league and a mixed league with Mom.  I watched him play baseball once while we lived in Alaska.  It was on one of the opening days for Little League, and he got recruited to fill in for a Dad’s vs Boys game for one of the upper leagues – probably the Babe Ruth league.  I remember being impressed with his athleticism. He was really good but very raw.  Probably from never being coached. I think he played some form of ball at the orphanage.  I remember when he was fixing (sewing up) one of my baseballs he told me that they only had one ball and one of the nicer nuns would sew it back up for them when it would split its seams.  (I asked him about this later, when I was an adult, and he couldn’t remember.  So maybe I just imagined this.)
He always made time when I asked him to play catch or work on my baseball skills.  Toward the end of the sessions he would throw pretty hard at me – grounders, line drives etc.  I remember the strings on my mitt snapped once and the ball hit me in the chest.  Another time the ball went off my knee and bounced all the way back to him.  I remember my sisters being concerned for me, but it made me better. In retrospect it built courage not only in sports but in life.  I got him back though……he was 80.  I was working with Justin on T-ball in my yard.  Dad picked up a mitt and we started to throw. I was impressed with how much pop he had in his arm and began throwing a little faster just to see what he still had.  He missed catching one and it hit him in the chest.  That’s when I remembered he just had cataract surgery and his vision wasn’t all there.


Dad ( Grandpa John) and I shared a love for sports and especially the St. Louis Cardinals.  As a gift for his 80th birthday,  I took Dad to a Cardinals game in Houston against the Houston Astros.  After the game we came back to my family's farm in Moulton and spent the night.---Dad enjoyed riding around the farm with me and checking our pastures for new baby calves.  

I knew every time we visited Dad, I could stay caught up on games, because he was sure to have the Sports channels on.  I couldn't ever get Dad to love the Aggies quite the way I do, though.


I remember being very young ( 3 or 4) and walking...or rather "flying" to Mass with Dad, which must have been just around the corner from our house in Michigan.  His pace was pretty fast and I had to do two or three running steps in between to keep up.  I'm guessing he was trying to get back home so that Mom could go to Church next.  With five little ones, they sometimes traded off, so that someone was home with the babies. 
 More recently,  I enjoyed walking with Dad to Mass at the St. Joseph's Chapel.  He attended every day as long as he was physically able.   I always felt a little closer to God when I was with Dad at Mass.
Some other memories and images that come to mind...

Dad kept everything---most especially cards and letters and photos of family and grandchildren...

Receiving very thoughtful thank you notes  in his beautiful hand writing...

Talking to Dad on Sept. 11 after the towers fell--- He had already been through so much personally, and with our country in his lifetime--somehow his voice was just what I needed

Growing up we noticed that Dad liked Tabasco sauce on just about everything---The last few years, Tabasco was replaced with ketchup

Dad was so good about playing with and including everyone--sometimes the neighbor kids in Michigan would come
to the house and ask if Johnny could come out to play 

Vacations as a family to Hawaii ( where we all got badly sunburned) and to Disneyland---it couldn't have been easy to take a family with six children to either one

Mader mania---very creative emails and nicknames for the participants--the last email came the night before his stroke

Dancing with mom to "Elvira"

Fixing things with duck tape and rubber bands

His hearty laugh---especially with the grandkids or during one of his favorite shows---The Tonight Show, All in the Family, and later on--Everyone loves Raymond

Dad in his chair reading the Sunday paper

Saying goodbye at the door of St. Joseph's and Dad waving and saying "Adios"

Dad was as wise as a philosopher, but more practical.  From him I learned, “It takes just as long to hang it up on a coat hanger as it does to throw it on the floor,” and, “You better come big, or stay at home”. As a child, when I or one of my siblings was frustrated with a rule established by Mom and wondered why we should have to follow it, his simple response settled it immediately, “Because she’s your mother.”

From Dad I learned how to: bowl, play cards, drive a car, shop for groceries, have integrity, respect women, participate at Mass especially with my voice, shut up and listen, love my wife and my children, make tacos, support my employer even if I didn’t always agree with my employer, and persevere.


 I have many beautiful memories with Grandpa. Some general ones include learning his skills (or potentially sly tactics) during card games --I  never could confirm if he counted cards or not, but either way he was a strong opponent!  I enjoyed 
conversations over meatless spaghetti during Lent -- and learned to somehow enjoy that meal :) I also was fortunate enough to enlist Grandpa's help for a project during my first semester at Notre Dame, and because of this, I was able to gain insight into his more personal thoughts.  One of the more recent times I got to visit him, Aunt Theresa and Uncle Dan helped to arrange a small photo shoot -- this day was peaceful and joyful, truly splendid. I will cherish those photos I have with him. Grandpa was a kind, thoughtful, and compassionate man, and every time I was around him, I learned from him. 


To:     Grandpa

 From:  Ethan Muehlstein [Ethan.T.Muehlstein.1@nd.edu]
 Sent:  Tue 10/13/2015 10:17 PM

Happy birthday Grandpa! I hope you enjoy your birthday! I love you so much, and I thank you for everything you have done. You are such an inspiration of how to live life guided by the faith. Sometimes I forget to appreciate and center my actions around Christ, but you have always been a model of who I can follow. Your actions of love are truly what made me choose to go to Notre Dame and to look for careers that address fundamental social issues. I learned from you that my faith and my life are not mutually exclusive, but they are mutually collaborative. Every human deserves love, and you have so graciously and so generously given your love to anyone you encounter, and I hope I can love as much as you! Love you Grandpa! 


Ethan




I always had wished there wasn't so many miles between us. It would have been fun to spend more time together. I'm so glad we made it to the last family get together. That was a great time I'll never forget. This is truly the end of a great family generation. Rest in peace John, and say hi to my dad. He's kind of new up there .

OBITUARY

John Michael Mader

October 16, 1925 – December 24, 2020

Rolling Oaks Funeral Home

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