Harold Roemelin, Jr.; Bud; or
“Uncle Butch” as we knew him had a vibrant personality, a zest for life, and a
laugh that came from the gut. He was
typically an affable prankster.
It would be impossible for me
to express my lamentations in regard to his loss. Through my teen years we were very close and
for some time almost inseparable. In a
word, he was not only a mentor but a good friend. After school I would often flee to join him
at his house, and many a weekend we spent together either chasing this or that
antique or going to an estate auction.
He was quite gifted mechanically and taught me many things encouraging
me to pursue both mechanics and wood working.
He could be given to generosity, and through the years he gave me some
of his tools, some of which reside in my tool box and get used quite
occasionally but never without a pleasant memory of him and what he taught
me.
The stories are too numerous
to recite here, but he never missed a chance for a gag. Whether taking advantage of a dutiful and
obedient child by shooting a hole through his hat after telling him to throw it
in the air or putting a hole through a watch, he loved to laugh. When he laughed it required his entire body,
and he often laughed almost uncontrollably.
It was impossible not to join in.
His mechanical abilities were
quite great. In the military he was
promoted to sergeant for having fixed the transmission of a Jeep amidst a war
game and then used the Jeep to get back to base in the mock battle. He understated what he’d done by saying that
the fix was not really a big deal but under the circumstances the Army saw it
so. In later years as his children came
of age he transferred his love of mechanics to things like go-carts,
mini-bikes, and motorcycles, all items that required constant maintenance. Not only did the use of these teach us how to
drive and ride but through them he taught us the principles of keeping things
in good repair, a trait he got from his father.
Whether it was replacing chains, sprockets, and clutches or just
servicing the machines it set us on the proper course for taking care of
such. He would not tolerate the abuse of
a mechanical device.
He had an avid love for
adventurous activities as well. Canoe
trips down the Current River and taking swims at the farm are amongst the great
memories for many of us.
None of this ignores the
colossal flaws in his personality.
Indeed, he was a most difficult person with whom to interact. At work they used to wager on how long a new employee
would last under his management.
However, for those who could pry beyond that most inflexible exterior
there was an interior that was quite soft.
He had quite a capacity for kindness despite his flaws.
It was quite painful watching
him go downhill so much between visits.
I saw a man who’d taught me so much as a child sit astonished when I
fixed the wheel on his oxygen cart because the suppliers couldn’t do it. It was a task he could have done in his sleep
some time before. That said, I should
think that his pain is all over now, and we have hope that he is now where
there is no need for a Jeep nor a war game.
Rest in peace my old friend.
His loving nephew,
David Lindow
I would ask you to continue to pray for his wife and family as they mourn their loss.
