‘Silent Generation’ spoke volumes by example. Here are 3 lessons from one of its best
A smile and a direct, old-fashioned handshake.
“You doin’ any good?” he’d ask me.
Or the next time our paths crossed, he’d ask, “Stayin’ out of trouble?”
Whether I was 15 years old, 40 years old, or 60-plus years old.
It was always a warm greeting with a smile and handshake, whether we were at a ballfield, gym, wedding, funeral, backyard barbecue, or I had walked inside his Belleville home and welcomed warmly.
Nick A. Gehrs of Belleville was the father of my friend and his oldest son, Nick J. Gehrs, and his younger brothers Steve, Mark and Tim.
To me, he was always Mr. Gehrs, respectfully.
Never Nick.
He was born and raised in Clinton County. Army veteran. Meatcutter for 45 years. Worked hard. Played hard. Deeply committed to his faith, family and friends.
Mr. Gehrs died Nov. 7 at age 87. Age got him. Dementia, too. His wife of 59 years, Gerri, died in 2017. (She was always Mrs. Gehrs.) He missed her. His son, Steve, died unexpectedly in 2011.
He probably didn’t know it, or care, but Mr. Gehrs was a member of The Silent Generation, a category for Americans born between 1925 and 1945, as nicknamed by Time Magazine in 1951.
You don’t hear or read much about The Silent Generation. They came just after The Greatest Generation. I’m not aware of a book written about The Silent Generation yet. No TV documentaries, either. A fitting name.
Characteristics of Silent Generation members: the need for financial security and comfort; thrift; simplicity; patriotism; commitment to home, community; and patience.
Mr. Gehrs was all of that, except patience.
He was in a hurry, always.
No time for chit-chat, fellas.
The Silent Generation got it done, quietly, efficiently, faithfully. They grew up in the ashes of the Great Depression, and experienced it all, from wars to civil rights to technology from hippies to president assassinations to cell phones and the internet.
They saw sandlots come and go.
They saw Musial and Pujols; Kennedy and Trump; Sinatra and Seger.
Along the way, and myriad of change, they managed to keep life simple.
I have written about how lucky I am to have grown up in the best era ever to be a kid. We had it all. Good music. Cheap gas. Safety. Security. And parents that let us be kids.
I was in the right place, at the right time, with the right people.
I can thank The Silent Generation.
My parents.
And parents of my friends, like Mr. and Mrs. Gehrs.
Nick A. Gehrs was one of a kind. I learned that if I had his attention, it was momentarily. He was in a hurry. Meat to cut and then cook at church. Games to referee or watch. Church volunteer duties. Later in life, grandkids to meet or watch.
Fifty years and I never saw Mr. Gehrs doing nothing.
It was always more about others than himself.
He was Cardinals baseball fan. He kept a scorecard when he watched a game on TV or listened on radio. Shhhh! No talking when the game’s on. His everyday mood was a reflection on whether the Cardinals won or lost the previous night.
I went to a few Cardinals games with him. He was all business, scorecard in hand. It was uncomfortable when a fan in our row got up to get a refreshment or go to the restroom during an inning. Mr. Gehrs would shake his head and mumble something like, “Paid good money for this seat” or “Just can’t wait til the innings over, can you?”
He wasn’t kidding.
Mr. and Mrs. Gehrs were the most warm, welcoming, caring people I have ever known.
During our high school years in Belleville, the Gehrs Family bravely opened their home and hearts to all of son Nick’s friends, including me. We were at Nick’s house to play basketball, Wiffle Ball, sandlot football, cards. We slept on their living room floor many weekend nights. We sang Green Berets as a group, always respectfully. We broke a kitchen table or two while also building lifelong friendships.
Mr. Gehrs and I shared the same birthday, July 14. I spent many birthdays at the Gehrs home, listening to ballgames and eating the finest cut of steak that Schnucks had to offer that day. And a few Stag beers in a gold can.
He was dedicated to church and community. He worked the chain gang at Althoff High School football games for more than 20 years. Other than the Cardinals, his favorite teams were from Althoff Catholic High School. He gave much of his life to his church community at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Belleville.
Three important lessons I learned from Mr. Gehrs:
1. Always make time. Shake hands. Give hugs. Make eye contact. Even if only briefly.
2. Be loyal to your home team. He loved the Cards and Althoff High. No other teams mattered to him. Win or lose, they were his teams.
3. Be humble and content. He was a son, husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, friend. Army veteran. Basketball referee. Church goer. Meatcutter. Runner. Walker. A simple man. I saw him laugh, cry, sing, tell jokes, lead prayers, swear, argue and dance. But I never heard him complain. Never. Not once.
