Harry Goodman’s Memorial

Marla Guziec

As a child, my father taught me many things. He taught me to be patient, confident, loving, adventuresome, giving, determined and above all, to follow my dreams. He always made me believe that I could reach for the stars, and I should always strive to be the best that I could be. I have always carried this with me in adulthood, and the greatest gift he gave me over the last 26 years was to teach these very same things to my three children, his grandchildren, Douglas, Marissa and Kyle.

There is nothing that strengthened the bond between my father and I more during these years than to share and watch every moment with him when he was being “Papa” to my children. His grandchildren were always one of his greatest sources of pride.

First and foremost, my father was a brilliant man. He was able to pull the most minuscule piece of information out of thin air. This fascinated his grandchildren so, that they thought he was the smartest man they ever knew. Thankfully, I have to admit that when they were stumped on a school assignment, the first thing they always said was “Lets call Papa”, and they knew that even if he didn’t have the answer, he would know where and how to find it. At one point, he became an Algebra and Chemistry tutor to my children. They were in total amazement that he didn’t even have to study the material that he was teaching them. I treasured the moments I was able to watch him in action so confidently and patiently doing what he loved most.

He was also their greatest fan over the years, but never alone and almost always with his wonderful sidekick Mar Mar. The two of them together put more miles on their car attending every music concert, traveling troupe, theatrical performance, school event, and sporting event including baseball, basketball, football, wrestling, field hockey and lacrosse. They rarely missed anything, and my children always knew that Papa was cheering them on in his own quiet manner, although he never missed a teachable moment after the event to give his “Papa” input.

Lastly, the greatest gift that he gave to them over the years was the gift of time. He was always there no matter what the task. He believed that spending time with his grandchildren was the best gift he was able to give him. Whether it was time at the cottage, playing cribbage, monopoly or chess, fishing, going to the zoo or taking off on some “Papa” adventure, he believed that spending time with them was when he was able to teach them the things that they didn’t even realize they were learning. Not only was this the greatest gift that he gave to them, but it was truly one of the most significant gifts that he could ever give to me.

It was his grandchildren who continued to take priority in his heart these last few months, thus making a humble yet most significant appearance to his youngest grandchild’s graduation not even 24 hours after being home from surgery. The determination he showed to get to this event was close to one of his last, but most precious gifts he gave to all of us.

I love you dad. I love you Papa.

Lance Goodman
I could talk for hours about my dad and what he meant to me. But I’m going to just talk about the times we spent at are summer cottage in Wisconsin. Those for me are some of the best. We’ve been going there since I was eight. There are many things I could talk about, so I’m only going to mention a few. I’m going to miss seeing him work in are garden. This was not a very big garden and not a lot of things grew well there, but he always had to plant at least one row of lettuce. It was always bitter, and he was the only person to eat it, but he had to have it. The many horse shoe matches and the night sitting out around the fire. If we had a clear night, all the stars would be out, and he always pointed out the Big and Little Dipper and the Milky Way. When we went inside, I could always get him to play a game of Cribbage or two. He loved to play Cribbage. My dad loved fishing. Going fishing with him is want I’m going to miss the most. He would always use either a red rooster tail or a Mepps spinner. He caught a lot of smaller fish, but from time to time he’d hook a big Northern Pike or Walleye. It didn’t matter whether we caught anything. It was just time we spent together. Talking about the Cubs, Bears, work, or just about fishing, it didn’t really matter. See, he wasn’t just my dad. He was my fishing partner. I know he will always be watching over me, so I have nothing to worry about. I will always love you dad.

Larry Goodman

“Goodman.  You must be a good man.”

I must have heard that joke a thousand times. I can only imagine how many times my father heard it over the course of his lifetime. Like all of us, he was flawed, but the fact is that he was a good man with an abundance of positive qualities. I would like to honor him by touching on a few of the qualities that made him such a special person to me.

My father was an open minded person. He gave people the benefit of the doubt. He was also a fair minded person who tried be as unbiased and non-judgmental as possible. He taught me that way of looking at the world, and I believe it has helped me greatly. One of the things he enjoyed doing was serving as an election judge. I can’t think of a more thankless task, but much to my mother’s dismay, he enjoyed getting up in the wee hours of the morning on election day to do his civic duty.

My father was a tremendous sports fan, particularly the Cubs and Bears, and he passed his love of sports on to me. I was an average athlete but I enjoyed playing sports and my father always encouraged me to pursue them. He coached and umpired when I played little league baseball. It was fairly common for parents to show favoritism towards their own kids, and I recall a particular situation that highlighted the value he placed on being unbiased. I was around 12 years old and on this occasion he was umpiring a game I was playing in. It came down to the bottom of the last inning with my team trailing by one run. I came up with the bases loaded and two out. The count went to three and two. I took the pitch. My dad called it strike three. Game over. I put my dad in a terrible position by not swinging, but he called it the way he saw it and that was that. He wasn’t happy with me, but he didn’t make a big deal about it. That wasn’t his way.

My father was an easy going, likeable guy. He was a very smart man, but he didn’t display his intelligence in a way that put people off. Those traits, combined with his generally accepting attitude, allowed him to blend in comfortably with a wide variety of people and   situations. My dad was a team player, who appreciated good team play. However, the team stuff did not apply when he was the craps table in Las Vegas, in which case he was absolutely ruthless. I believe there are several people here today that can vouch for this.

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My dad taught me that a person had to accept the consequences for his actions, and not to expect to be rescued by others. This was made clear to me when I tried to get my drivers license. I don’t know if it’s still done this way, but in those days, you had to go the state facility on Elston Ave and rather than driving on the street, you drove through a special course with the examiner. You got three shots at it, and not passing meant no license for another year. I had failed twice due to hitting the cones on the parallel parking. On my last try, the examiner noted my two failures and being that this was Chicago, he asked my dad if he wanted to make sure that I passed. My dad smiled and said, “No, I think he can do it on his own.” I passed with no problem that third time, and I have always been thankful for the way my dad handled it.

My father was a gentle soul. Nothing made that clearer to me than the passion for horticulture he developed later in life. By May of this year, he was already quite ill with ALS, and had fallen behind in planting his garden, something he took great pride in. I volunteered to help him out, but I’m clueless when it comes to horticulture. I’ve killed many a plant in my day. My dad was too ill to do the planting. It was difficult for him to speak, but he very calmly and patiently instructed me on what to do, step by step. It was a poignant time that I will always cherish.

My father didn’t complain about his illness. To the contrary, he minimized his symptoms as much as possible and tried to carry on with life as normally as he possibly could. It was maddening at times.

He became quite the poker player over the last few years and continued to play well after he was diagnosed with ALS. He told me that he was actually a better poker player after he got sick because his illness taught him the value of patience.

I loved my dad. I will miss my dad terribly. But I carry with me for the rest of my life, the things that he taught me, and the ways in which he shaped me, flaws and all. My words cannot express how grateful I am to him for that.

In closing, I must mention how indebted our entire family is to the Les Turner ALS Foundation. Those people are amazing. I don’t know what we would have done without them. Their kindnesses we will never forget.

Marissa Guziec

To us the word Papa means a lot more then just Grandpa. It means dedicated, intelligent, wise, patient, admirable, generous, open minded, and most importantly, adventurous. Living life to the fullest was Papa’s main mission everyday.

From eating hairy pigs feet out of a jar with me that sat lord knows how long on the back of the tavern’s bar, to being the best teammate to Kyle while playing full contact shirtless basketball in the driveway at the age of 73, and finally, fishing for hours in the flowage with Doug, determined to catch at least one fish that could never be found. These are just a few examples of how our Papa at a drop of a hat would do anything for us. His determination to give everything a 110 percent effort is something that he instilled in the three of us forever.

The Cottage was Papa’s haven to teach us life skills and lessons. Here he was able to demonstrate important tools that we would be able to carry on forever and pass down to generations to come. Our top five life skills and lessons that we learned from our Papa would be the following:

1. The definition of fishing does not necessarily mean to go out and catch fish. Papa taught us that a boat, hook and line, and good company and humor was the perfect mixture for a great fishing experience.

2. When building a bonfire, there was there is no such thing as a big enough fire as long as you do not use Mar Mar’s good wood on the side of shed.

3. When playing card games Papa always helped you strategize and would educate you on the correct rules, but never showed any mercy while playing games.

4. When exploring new journeys, it meant never getting lost, but instead taking advantage of the less traveled paths. Whether it was climbing down rocks at Rib Falls or trespassing AKA hiking through other people’s property.

5. Fixing and repairing things did not mean it would be fixed forever. Instead, it meant spending three hours on something that would only need to be repaired again in mere moments but at least Kyle’s pole got two good casts on an eight hour fishing trip.

We will take these life lessons to heart and pass them on to our families for years to come.

Our goal through out life will be to live life to the fullest just the same way our Papa did. We love you Papa, and forever will carry your memories and lessons!