Eulogy for a Country Gentleman
by Lisa Betz

Cleo Gering was my grandfather. For forty years, he was the sterling example in my life of Christian duty. When I was a child, he showed me how to be industrious. Sundays after church, grandpa would already be out in the yard with his overalls on when we arrived for dinner. I couldn’t wait to change into my play clothes and join him. I had to stay inside long enough to say hello to grandma but my heart was always leaping to be outside with grandpa.

He seemed always to be fixing things. I loved to be his helper. I would sit in the gravel and talk to him while he lay on his back tinkering with the farm equipment. He had a very particular way of doing everything. He was a perfectionist about how, where and when things were put away. His shop was immaculate.

He taught me about tools as he needed them. He’d describe it, I’d hand it to him, much like a nurse assisting the doctor. When my talkativeness got to be too much for him, which happened often, he showed me how to hammer nails in a board. I’d hammer as fast and as good as I could, eager to show him what a good job I had done. Then he’d tell me to take the nails out and start over. When I tired of nails, he introduced me to cracking and shelling walnuts. I would have done anything to please him.

When grandma rang the bell for dinner, we’d wash up and go inside together and grandpa would always say “What’s for dinner?” My place was right beside grandpa at the table. After dinner, he always lay down in his recliner for at least 20 minutes nap, which seemed like forever to a little girl with big plans. After dinner, Grandpa and I walked in the hills together, always looking for arrowheads and fossils. Sometimes, although it took a lot of pleading, he’d give me a motorcycle ride but he was always too careful and went slow. He’d help me find where the kittens were hidden and try to catch one for me to hold but he would always give up on the task long before I wanted to. We checked irrigation together and he taught me how to get the water running thru the tubes.

When they left for Texas in the fall, my heart broke every year. I cried and pleaded but they always went. How could a little girl understand that her best friend had things to do, people to see and places to go? Grandpa was always going somewhere, to a Sam’s Club camp, to a fair, to a funeral, to a community supper, to take a cake or flowers to someone who was lonely. Grandpa had a sense of duty and a feeling of honor in its fulfillment. He loved people and was the first to volunteer for any task. He popped the popcorn for 15 years of events at his retirement park, relishing the act of greeting everyone and making people smile. He loved visiting. Just yesterday the UPS man told me how much he’d miss visiting with him.

He was also tenderhearted. He enjoyed flowers and pretty sunsets and birds. He loved the land he worked, his animals and every corner of the world he visited. He had a sense of style. He was equally at home in overalls or his trademark white-collared shirts and khaki pants, as he was in a suit and tie.

When I visited him a couple of years ago for Christmas in Texas, I was surprised at how long it took him to get ready for bed. I asked him about it the next morning. He explained that he lifted hand weights, did stretches and used a hand massager on his muscles before saying his prayers. If anyone had the secret to the fountain of youth, it was Cleo Gering. He took herbal supplements years before they were popularized. He swore by his daily shot of Aloe Vera Juice and fondly offered a “shot” to anyone who visited him. He exercised diligently every day until he no longer had the energy to do so. When he moved into Heritage Estates, someone told him he had the most beautiful skin of anyone they’d ever seen at his age.

When I was a teenager I worked in the dining room at Northfield Villa. I loved telling the residents all about whose granddaughter I was because people loved my grandfather. Faces would light up and they always said that Cleo Gering was a good man. Even though, in the last forty years, grandpa was in Texas most of the time, people never forgot him. Just this week a friend working at the Monument told me that a visitor from Massachusetts had been through and spoke about a gentleman he had met a couple of summers ago at the Farm & Ranch Museum, who really made an impression on him. He spoke at length about his conversation with grandpa, referencing the connection to Martin Gering, and said that he was an unforgettable person.

A couple of years ago my mother and grandfather went to Detroit to see me in a play. One of my friends said that grandpa was a “class act.” I have to agree. His shining example of service to others, his straightforward, honest approach to business affairs, and his many good deeds benefiting neighbors, friends and loved ones will be missed. Grandpa was the guy who always volunteered to help, no matter what was needed.

His philosophy on life was to take care of his body and his possessions, to keep a good attitude, be of service to others, smile and put one foot in front of the other. When faced with times of trouble, his response was always, “We’ll get along.” I am sure that his smile is brightening Heaven just now. He will be missed here on Earth but it should be a comfort for all of us to know, that Cleo Gering will be there waiting with the popcorn, when it is our time to go Home.

Cleo W Gering