Art’s Life
Art was born in Milwaukee on Jun 25, 1923. His parents were Emily (nee Stingl) and Frederick. He was the third of 4 children. His sister Cele was the oldest, followed by his brother Harvey, then Art, and then his much younger brother Fred. We don’t know much about his early years, except that he grew up during the Great Depression and times were tough. He claimed that the family moved around a few times within Milwaukee, but we’re not sure exactly where.
We do know that he went to Boys Tech high school. His route to school included riding his bike over the 6th St viaduct. After school, a traffic cop would hold up the cars and trucks to allow all the students on bikes to cross the viaduct as one group. At that time he lived near 25th and Cherry, but he didn’t bike home after school because he had an after school job working at the Sears auto center on North Avenue. After helping with oil changes, topping off batteries and cleaning the floor, he was back on his bike for the ride home.
While he was growing up, he developed a dislike for cheese. His father liked to have a few drinks and eat limburger cheese at night and then insist on a kiss from Art before bed. When Art got close to him, the smell of alcohol and cheese was so bad that it turned him against cheese for the rest of his life. At an interview for respite care a few weeks ago, he was asked about food preferences. His only answer was “no cheese.”
When he graduated from Boys Tech in 1942, the country was at war and he wanted to enlist. In order to do so, he needed a parent to sign an enlistment form stating that he was at least 19 years old (which he was). When he brought the form home neither his dad nor his mom wanted to sign it so he forged his dad’s signature and entered the Army Air Force on October 28, 1942. After training at Harlingen, Texas, and Lowry Field in Colorado, he left for Europe in June of 1943 on the Queen Mary. For the trip over, he and a few buddies staked out a nice spot to sleep in the empty pool on the ship. He served 15 months as a tail gunner in a B-24 bomber based in England. It was customary to paint a name or picture on each plane. His was labelled “TARFU #2”. He told us the gentlemen’s translation of that is “Things Are Really Fouled Up”. We don’t know where the “#2” came from, but are guessing that it paid homage to an earlier plane with the same slogan. He earned an Air Medal with 3 oak leaf clusters, the Distinguished Flying Cross, and a few other medals during his tour of duty. He flew many missions, including to the Ploesti oil fields, but said that one of the best days of his life was the morning of D-Day when he was flying over the English Channel on a mission and saw beneath him the armada of allied ships and the shelling of the beaches at Normandy. Somehow he knew that was a turning point in the war.
He was honorably discharged in 1945 at Ft. Sheridan, IL, and given $2.95 bus fare to get him home to Milwaukee. He got a job or two working as a printing apprentice and finally landed a job at the Moebius Printing Co. He met his future wife, Grace, in a bar when he saw her walk by with a plate of potato salad. Apparently it was love at first bite, because they married on July 12, 1947. After living with Grace’s family for a few years, they moved in to their newly built home on 75th and Burleigh in 1950. Paul was born in 1951, Mike in 1953 and Dan in 1957. Rambler, a beagle, showed up during that time as well. It was only a 2 bedroom house so Art, with lots of help from his brother Harvey, raised the roof and added a couple more bedrooms on the 2nd floor. Art and Grace loved that house and lived there for the rest of their lives.
Art and Grace were members and staunch supporters of Mother of Good Counsel parish. They sent their kids to the parish grade school and signed them up for Cub Scouts and then Boy Scouts at Troop 61. Art liked the scouting program so much that he became an Assistant Scoutmaster with the Troop. He especially liked going along on campouts and helping out wherever he could. He continued in that role for almost 55 years, even after his boys had left the Troop.
They became grandparents in 1978 when Dave was born and continued adding to the count until Adam came along in 1994. By then, they had 8 grandkids and they loved each and every one of them, even the girls. They loved babysitting them when they were small and they loved watching them grow up and graduate from high schools and colleges across the country.
Art retired from Moebius in 1988 and started to spend more time fishing. He loved ice fishing and regular fishing. Many times he would drop Grace off at work in the morning and then head out to Pewaukee Lake to get in a few hours of fishing before going back to pick her up later in the day. They also liked going on vacations with their family. Colorado, California, Florida, Virginia, Minnesota, Oregon, Nevada and Mexico were favorite destinations. They also liked mall walking at Mayfair, a tradition that Art carried on even after Grace passed away. On weekdays he would head out to the Senior Lunch at Hart Park and then drive over to Mayfair for a stroll.
In 2011, Art and Grace became great grandparents when Gracie entered the world. So far, they have accumulated 6 great grandkids, with Clare being the latest arrival. Art got names confused a little, but always wanted to make sure that each one of them got a card with money on their birthday.
In October of 2019, Art moved in with Paul and Chris after a stroke took away most of his remaining vision. He couldn’t walk at Mayfair because of the pandemic, so he took up walking around the neighborhood, where he made many new friends. He was the easiest, most thankful and optimistic house guest anyone could ask for. When he went on an Honor Flight a number of years ago, he was given a jacket that was embroidered with the slogan “Every Day is a Bonus”. That’s exactly how he lived his life and we miss him dearly.
Please join us for a celebration of Art's Life on Saturday, July 31st, 2021 at Alioto's Restaurant, 3041 N. Mayfair Road, Wauwatosa. The reception will begin at 11:00 am with a Memorial Celebration at 12 noon, followed by lunch.
Memories
From his granddaughter Stephanie:
Grandpa loved potato salad--Grandma's German potato salad was his favorite. This was a signature recipe of hers, and as the story goes, this potato salad played a major role in their first meeting many decades ago. Grandma prepared this dish countless times over the years, effortlessly preparing the signature sauce while Grandpa peeled the potatoes, all to be combined in a designated giant, yellow bowl. After Grandma passed away, various family members attempted to prepare her famous German potato salad with Grandpa overseeing the process, peeling potatoes, and ultimately, tasting the final product and determining whether the sauce was just right--like Grandma's. While Grandpa happily devoured batches and batches of potato salad that resulted from our various attempts at perfecting the family recipe, nobody's was quite as spectacular as Grandma's, unsurprisingly. Nevertheless, many happy memories were made, spinning around the kitchen where Grandma used to prepare her signature dish with Grandpa excitedly looking on, trying to get her recipe just right while reminiscing about the countless times he shared the dish with her. Few meals could make Grandpa happier than a big bowl of German potato salad (with a side of Leon's butter pecan frozen custard).
Grandpa was also a lover of good walks. He was a regular at Mayfair mall in Wauwatosa, where he walked hand-in-hand with Grandma for many years. They had a designated route, circling the ground floor first, then the upstairs portion, with a brief stop in the food court to drink water and rest before heading home. Grandpa kept up this tradition after Grandma passed away. Over the years, Grandpa experimented with different routes, observed stores come and go, and made friends with folks he saw each visit. I enjoyed being a guest on these walks, catching up with the folks who greeted him, and convincing him to make the occasional detour to the Nordstrom cafe for a cup of coffee.
Grandpa was wise, honest, and endlessly supportive of his family. He was a hard worker, and motivated others to set goals and accomplish them. He enjoyed celebrating people's successes, but was equally supportive when we faced challenges. He was level-headed and optimistic, and seemed to always be hopeful about what was to come. He once said: "Wake up with a smile, life's a beach."
He was quiet and witty, an amazing storyteller and avid reader, loved dogs, spending time outside, and putting things together in his workshop. But most of all, he loved his family.
From his grandson Adam:
I’m lucky enough to have so many great memories with my grandpa that it’s hard to pick the ones that have left the biggest impression on me. Whether it be playing rummy and eating massive bowls of popcorn or hiking through the Colorado mountains at 90 years old, the best thing about grandpa was that he took a genuine interest in everything happening in my life. If I cared about something, he did as well. Even if that meant standing in 115 degree heat for 20 minutes just to walk inside a random pawn shop in Las Vegas. My grandpa was one in a million and I strive to be the man that he was. He left awfully big shoes to fill.
From his son Dan:
My dad worked with heavy, dangerous machinery. He was exposed to printing inks and solvents every day, and, whether from paper or a cutting blade, cuts on his ink-stained hands were ever-present. From this we learned that the quickest way to stop a cut from bleeding was to dunk it in the always-present jug of acetone in the basement. Not the healthiest approach, but it works! Later in life he took pride in the fact that his sons kept working into their ‘older’ years as well and was curious to see what these places looked like. On one such visit, seeing rows and rows of people typing on laptops, with nothing at all being manufactured, he leaned in and whispered, “where do they do the work around here?”. Being assured that work was indeed happening, dad tried on the product, which was a helmet full of electronics, and when the CEO happened by and asked what he thought of it, dad told him what he didn’t want to hear - it was too hot and too heavy. And he was right! That company’s slogan was “Don’t Forget to be Awesome!”. I have dad’s picture next to those words in the lobby, a 93-year-old guy wearing a space age helmet. He never forgot to be awesome.
From his granddaughter Kate:
Reading books upside down with him is one of my best and earliest grandpa memories. I thought he was the only one in the world who could do that!
My most terrifying memory is probably him cleaning fish. Rocks my world to this day!
Something that will always stay with me is seeing how he was with grandma. That Man could do next to nothing right as we all know, but he would hold her hand anyways and it was always sweet and confusing haha but sweet. Remember how strangers would see them out and Come up to say they were just the sweetest couple? Very funny.
He had the nicest, most sincere laugh. Not the most talkative man but when he got a kick out of something it was worth it.
Grandpa was always there for me and with me even though I was a GIRL. He would get stuck on many weird, not short outings with me and grandma, either we’d be watching the Cinnabon employees for hours to steal their craft or driving around town collecting tiny doll house furniture. Or buying rubber stamps or earrings. Come to think of it, maybe he has me to thank for his love of mall walking, we certainly spent enough time there! No matter what weird girly thing we were up to, he was a willing participant even when he wasn’t actually participating and I always felt a lot of love from him in his quiet, present way. Remember this was before smart phones!! Can you imagine.
Speaking of doll houses... have ya seen mine!? What an amazing gift... that I’m sure my boys would not appreciate and would love to demolish. I loved and love it so much.
I will miss my grandpa very much. I don’t think any kid has ever felt more unconditionally loved by their grandparents. Even though they were the laughable worst together they were also the BEST together. I’m glad they’re finally reunited - we all know he’s getting a lot of shit up there - but I imagine he feels like he is home again.
From his grandson Tim:
Much of Art’s time was spent with his late wife, Grace. He and Grace could often be found walking through the Mayfair mall (usually side by side, but sometimes Grace 20 feet ahead of him), or drinking ‘damn fine beer’ on folding chairs in the backyard, where the window well served as the recycling bin for empty cans. Art also loved spending time with his kids and grandkids. Art’s grandkids will fondly remember countless New Year’s celebrations, Mexican vacations, and summer camping trips. Art, or ‘that man’ as Grace affectionately called him, was a firm believer in education. He and Grace contributed generously towards college tuition for his eight grandchildren. He also spent his summers ‘educating’ squirrels (catching them in his yard and releasing them in a park on the other side of the river). Art enjoyed old John Wayne western movies, ice fishing, and he was always quick to offer a pocket knife to anybody that needed to open a box. Art was quiet, helpful, fiercely independent, and enjoyed a lifelong sense of humor. Art was a great man and the best Grandpa anybody could ask for.
From his daughter-in-law Garie Lynn:
I hit the jackpot when it came to in-laws. I’ve said many times that Arthur Oehler was perhaps my favorite person on the planet. I never had grandparents of my own, and to see him with his grandchildren was a sight to behold. Patient. Kind. Thoughtful....and never ever appearing to have favorites. He taught me, and my two children, so much about life. Not just physical and practical things, but how to be kind and grateful for the hand you were dealt in life. It was thanks to he and Grace that my two children were able to go to their colleges of choice due to their very generous college accounts they had set up for Stephanie and Adam. And you got excited whenever you had news to share with him because he was always so genuinely happy for you.
Our visits with him were always something special. We always looked forward to having him as a houseguest. He was easy, full of witty comments, lovingly teasing one or the other of us in a way that somehow always made a point. He and I spent a lot of time in my yard, gardening, and he enjoyed the different plants I could grow out here in California. I loved stuffing him with the fruits and vegetables I grew, and he especially enjoyed the spicy radishes and the sweet strawberries.
I never knew exactly how he really felt about me, after all, I’m opinionated, vocal with my thoughts to a fault and had such a different upbringing than he and my husband, his youngest son, Daniel Oehler. But I remember beaming with pride when I brought him and Grace to work with me so that they could watch me in court. My bailiff came over to shake his hand and for days afterwards he would comment on what a firm handshake Art had and how he watched him as he watched us, keenly aware of every move we made. Last year when he visited in May, 2019, I perhaps got my first glimpse of some of his thoughts about me, and although not said directly to me, my daughter later told me that as I walked out the door to go to work, he said “You’re mom always looks like a million bucks when she walks out the door for work” and that I didn’t just walk out the door, I sauntered! I’ll take it! I will miss him forever.
From his grandson Beedl:
I will remember the times I spent with him: him teaching me how to make bunny ears to tie my shoes, helping me to shoot the BB gun in the basement, giving me quarters for my coin collection, sending me a birthday card each year in an envelope covered in 1-cent stamps, and so, so many more memories.
I will remember his funny/clever personality: The tricky handshakes with that smirk and the twinkle in his eye. The story of how when he found out my parents were having a fourth kid (me), he walked fully-clothed down to the pier, then straight off the end of the pier and into the lake.
I will remember his down to earth wisdom - even beyond the usual “keep your nose to the grindstone” or “don’t take no wooden nickels”. Once I asked him which oatmeal was better, the one he had yesterday or the one he was having today, and he very matter of factly said, “the best one is the one that’s in front of you.” Once he told me a story from his time as a tail gunner in the war when he would throw his parachute to the side before getting into his crawl space. I asked what would have happened if they had gotten hit and he didn’t have his parachute. He just looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.
These are all things I’ll remember. And when I miss him, I will close my eyes and picture him sitting on the davenport with grandma. It’s a hot summer day and they’re enjoying a few beers, throwing the empties in the window well.
He’s the best grandpa I could have asked for and I love him so much.
From his grandson Dave:
"The B-24 has guts.” That’s what the Army Air Force’s pilot-instruction manual said, so it’s fitting that is where my grandpa found himself during the war. Flying over Europe, in a plane that was a lot like him.
Listening to his stories, I suspect his childhood wasn’t an easy one. And while I wish I knew more about his service to this country, I can only imagine the courage it took to repeatedly strap himself into the tail of that plane. With character like that, it’s no surprise that he spent the last 75 years of his life becoming the best friend, husband, father, grandpa and great-grandpa that he possibly could.
And in my lifetime, he accomplished quite a bit! He mastered the art of reading upside down, he learned to make popcorn and Nesquik strawberry milk at the same time, he always knew where the Easter Bunny hid the eggs that we couldn't find and he watched enough balls drop on NYE with us that he could have done Dick Clark’s job for him. Yet despite all those accomplishments, I’m pretty sure he never won a single game of Diver Dan.
He gave so much of his time to everyone, including the Boy Scouts, who ran out of colors to mark his years of mentorship. He taught me how to ice fish, how to shoot a bb gun and how to fend off a skunk if it wanders into your campsite. I don't know how he learned all these things before the internet, but I like to think he picked up a thing or two from all the late-night episodes of MacGyver he’d watch with me from his chair next to the Magic Bed.
And he got to travel. Spending years soaking up the sun on the beaches of Mexico and taking lots of summer camping trips. There was also the annual pilgrimage to downtown Milwaukee, where his status as a Moebius employee got him VIP parking right on the Circus Parade route. Obviously, we were pretty devastated when he decided to retire. And for a man who never went to college, he sure attended a lot of graduations!
More recently, he’d been honing his craft as a great grandpa. And while he couldn’t quite match the energy of Grace and Jack, I know he enjoyed having them around the house each summer for a week. Especially after they went to bed. Now that he’s on to the next adventure, Jack told me the other day that he misses him. When I asked why, he said, “Because he always said good morning to me.” Truly, every day was a bonus, and he made the most of each one, all the way to the end.
So yes, he had guts. And a mischievous grin, a firm handshake, a sense of duty, a quiet confidence, eternal optimism, and unending love and patience.
Grandpa, we love you, we miss you…and we hope you remember how to jitterbug, because Grandma’s been waiting!
From his Daughter-in-law Chris:
Just want to let you know that my 97 year-old father-in-law passed away on August 6th in the middle of the night. Paul and I were with him every minute and it seemed to be a very peaceful departure. He was a very good and honest man. As an example, years ago he and Grace went downtown for some reason or other. They found a parking spot and went to put the coin in the meter. It wouldn’t accept the quarter so he and his pocket knife spent a good amount of time fixing the meter so it would take his money. He knew he could leave it and probably be ok without paying, but he said that just wasn’t right. He was honest to a fault.
He was declared legally blind about a year ago but in all that time I never heard him complain. Never. He would chase his food around the plate but never missed a morsel. And he would never skip dessert! In the mornings I would ask him how he was feeling and he would ALWAYS say “FANTASTIC!
I’ve spent a lot of time with him over the past 10 months. I’ve heard some good stories about a poker game and the soldier who lost his dentures in the pot (Art returned them the next morning so “Spike” could eat his breakfast) and I’ve heard some sad ones too. We never talked too much about the sad ones.
It’s a bad time to have a loved one pass away. No traditional funeral. No Mass. No picture boards. No one to appreciate the 21 gun salute. No catching up with family and friends at a lunch following the funeral, sometimes with a glass of wine or a beer. I know we’re having a Celebration of Life sometime in the future and hope you all can come. It’s just not the same. Meanwhile I found this little poem…
He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion,
Telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he once fought in,
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies.
They were heroes, every one.
And ‘tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew where of he spoke.
But we’ll hear his tales no longer,
For ol’ Art has passed away,
And the world’s a little poorer
For Art Oehler died today.
He won’t be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won’t note his passing,
‘Tho a Veteran died today.
When politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories
From the time that they were young,
But the passing of a Veteran
Goes unnoticed, and unsung.
The greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land,
Is the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country
And offers up his life.
We remember and pray for all of our veterans.
