By Lisa Schultz-Haskell
Thank you everyone for making time to join us today in celebrating the life and legacy of Dale Francis Mitchell. Thank you especially to those who have traveled across state lines to be here. Dad would appreciate that. For those of you whom I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, I am Lisa Schultz-Haskell, Dale and Rita’s oldest child. Interestingly, Mom, Dad, and I are all three the first born in our families. We often discussed the importance and responsibilities bestowed on us because of this. Dad took seriously his responsibilities in supporting his family and looking out for his brothers and sisters. This extended on as his nieces and nephews made their debuts in the world. He was proud of and loved each of them.
Dale was a terrific story teller, so today I attempt to share a few of his tales. He was quite the character, larger than life, and he relished his moments in the spot light. His bark was loud, but he laughed easily, and had a golden heart. Many times Dad reversed the legal tenet of innocent until proven guilty. Instead, he viewed newcomers with suspicion and expected them to earn his favor. However, once they did win Dale over, his loyalties were fierce and enduring.
He cherished his family. Born to George and Darlene Mitchell in 1947, he was the oldest of six children. Dad’s stories of his childhood were so captivating, that my sister Heather, brother Geofrey, and I never thought to question their validity. We heard about summers spent working on his grandparents’ farm in Wadena, MN. He grew especially attached to one of the farm pigs, and treated him as a pet. He claimed he was the biggest, prettiest pig you had ever seen. He would come running excitedly toward Dad with his ears flapping back in the wind when he saw Dale. Supposedly, he even let Dad ride him as if the pig were a horse. Needless to say, Dad was rather ticked off with his Grandfather when his pig was inevitably sent to the slaughter house.
Dad’s favorite pet of all time was his black mutt Hocks Locks. Decades later, he would still regularly refer to Hocks Locks and Go-locks. When he was reunited with an old Polaroid photograph of his dog, he would show it off and display it prominently.
Dad took great pride in serving in Vietnam and felt a strong alliance toward his fellow service men and women. Those, like him, who were drafted and served their duty to our country held a dear place in his heart. One of Dad’s most treasured gifts was a cap from Heather and Dustin that commemorated his service in Vietnam. Not surprisingly, Dale was deeply impacted by his time in the army. Prior to medical advances of diagnosing and treating post-traumatic stress disorder, Dad found his own sometimes ugly and imperfect ways to cope. I have to give him credit though, he did persevere. On a positive note, I think Dad’s service instilled a great desire to rise above negativity, to seize and appreciate the moment, and to take advantage of opportunities presented. Taking advantage of the GI Bill and being the first in his family to graduate with a college degree was one such example of this. Dad was also great at declaring his ambitions for his children. It was never open for debate—come hell or high water, we would each earn a college degree. He and Mom sacrificed and saved to pay for our college educations. Freed from the financial burden of student debt, we had little room to argue, and we each earned our degrees. Thank you, Mom and Dad for that gift.
Those of you who knew Dale in his first 27 years before he met my lovely mother Rita in 1974, I admire you. You had to figure out how to build a relationship without the Supreme Decoder Ring that Mom became for him. Rita understood and loved Dad in a way that nobody else ever could. Dad was never short on passion and explosive displays of emotion, but he was not always articulate. At times he could be too stubborn to use his words. Mom apologized to us kids countless times on Dad’s behalf, but it served to keep us talking and mending our relationships.
Many people observed Dad’s loud bark, but also Mom’s ability to reel him in with a word or sometimes only a look. He loved and appreciated Rita deeply. He knew he found a keeper in her, and that led him to propose only a year after meeting Rita. He leaned on her to guide him emotionally and spiritually. Mom convinced Dad to convert to Catholicism. And although he was never the biggest fan of going to church, he nonetheless accompanied Rita week after week. Mom gave him the grace to incorporate spirituality in his life in his own way. It was common to hear him blurt out, “Please Lord!” or “Thank you Jesus!” and “Hallelujah!” at various moments, both good and bad. He knew he had Mom to thank for this.
Mom and Dad took great pride in ensuring that Heather, Geofrey and I had more than enough food in our bellies and that we never went hungry. Dad was a terrific cook, and we all loved his steaks, hamburgers, homemade pizza, and spaghetti in particular. There were times though when Dad would obsess over a dish that didn’t always please his family. Our opinions of his food did not matter. He wanted us to praise his food regardless. Heather mastered the art of this. I remember his bland lima beans that served as a comfort food for him because they reminded him of growing up with Northern Baked Beans. Heather hated them, but never let on to Dad. Instead she would compliment the chef while methodically scooping her beans onto the floor, feeding our non-existent pet dog. Mom kept the peace by never mentioning this when she swept the floor following supper and had to use a full dust pan under Heather’s seat.
We shared many summer roads trips up to North Dakota as a family. Dad loved showing us the sights and sounds of his home land. Geof fondly recalls Dad’s red Igloo cooler that sat between the driver’s seat and front passenger seat of our grey 1982 Plymouth Voyager van. As we would turn onto state highway 83 in Bismarck, we all knew Garrison was getting close. Geof loved to perch on the cooler and try to be the first to spot the Garrison turn off.
CJ and I enjoyed treating Mom and Dad to accompany us on trips. Last year on a trip to Las Vegas, we insisted that Dad break away from his casino time long enough for us to visit the Hoover Dam. Dad was mortified that we had rented him a scooter to help him cover great distances with ease. CJ happily took the keys and gave his feet a rest. Seeing how much fun CJ was having zipping around and honking to clear the way, Dad quickly changed his mind and told CJ to get off, because he was taking over the scooter.
Dad loved a good celebration, and he had many. Each of our weddings and the births of his grandchildren were high on that list. He was so proud of his grandbabies. A longstanding tradition was Dad spoiling each of the grandchildren with candy and sweets. This was most amusing with Heather and Dustin’s three children because they would always tell on Grandpa to their parents. It didn’t stop him from feeding their sugar cravings. Other recent memories of Dad interacting with his grandbabies include Marie standing up at a school assembly on Veterans Day and thanking Grandpa for his service and bestowing him with a red carnation. Heather got the whole thing on video, including the hug and tears in Dad’s eyes. Then this April St Dominic’s high school band was playing an outdoor concert at the opening of a Veterans Museum in O’Fallon, MO. Tommy plays the trombone with the band. I brought Dad along to watch. As the kids began playing their patriotic tunes and I started videotaping their performance, Dad leaned over to me and loudly blurted out, “Tommy plays so well. So why did Willie quit the band? He was good too.” Samantha is Dale’s oldest grandchild, and this January we celebrated her milestone 21st birthday. Dad loved offering Sam and her boyfriend Corey one of his precious Miller Lites in the months that followed when they came to his house for a meal.
From Dad, I learned to be myself and to be proud of who I am. He set the bar high for his kids and grandkids because he had every confidence that we would accomplish much. In honor of Dad, I ask each of us to make the most of each day; to take the time to tell those close to us what they mean; to let go of grudges; and to not harbor any hate in our hearts. Thank you for everything. You did great! I love you, Pops!
