Obituary of Louis Smiley Stahlman

Louis Smiley Stahlman “Lou” Pittsford: March 22, 2014, at age 84. Originally of Sparta, Il, eldest son of Oscar and Helen Stahlman. Survived by his wife of 61 years, Norma; daughters Stefani (Steve Comstock) and Gretchen; grandsons Nick (Jill), Simon, and Paul; brother John (Carrol), nephew Scott, niece Joni of Springfield, IL; friends that include Finger Lake Woodturners and the Flannel Shirts group. Served his country as US Marine in Korean War. Graduated University of Illinois 1955, U of R Simon School 1972. Retired from Kodak after 35 years. He was an accomplished nature photographer, woodworker, and financial expert. A plain, honest, good man. Semper Fi. “I have been blessed all my life. One of the great blessings of my life was growing up in a small, Midwestern, rural town. It’s where America lives. I still carry many of the values learned there.” Louis Stahlman Once, I asked my father, “What is the most important lesson you ever learned from your parents?” Believe in a loving God. Hard, honest work is an honorable thing. There is no excuse for bad manners. Do the right thing by your measure of the right thing. Don't be afraid to assume the best about another person but count your change anyway. In 2005, I wrote the following for This I Believe, an anthology at NPR which ran from 2005 – 2009 that captured the core beliefs that guided individual lives. As I look through all that I have written about Dad (and it has been a lot), this still best captures who he was, his beliefs, and what we wanted to convey to us with his life. I look forward to reading your memories of this quiet, strong, good man. Gretchen Stahlman My father sits in his place at the table, I in mine, we’re drinking coffee I’ve brought in tall paper cups. He’s 76, and long since retired. With my mother, he raised two daughters who are now nearing the end of raising three sons, ages 19, 18, and 16. “I find myself making wishes for my grandsons,” Dad starts slowly, “particularly since the oldest has left home and the others are not far behind.” He wraps his calloused, dry hands around the cup, the warmth seeping into his joints. “My wish for them is based on what Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence in 1776,” he says. My sister and I have been schooling the boys in the practical arts of laundry, washing dishes, and managing money. The Declaration of Independence has never been in our curriculum. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,” he reminds me. He sips the hot coffee and, as I always do, I wait for him to explain. “See, that last part doesn’t say we are entitled to happiness. It just gives us the right to pursue it but with no guarantees. Just the opportunity, nothing more.” I blow on my coffee to cool it, then gingerly take a sip. He swirls the coffee in his cup. “That’s what I would tell the boys: Find something you enjoy doing, something you can’t get enough of, that you can't wait to get back to. Experiment to find out where your own happiness is. No matter how long it takes or how many things you have to try, find that certain something. It’s a bonus if you can make a living at it. But even if you can’t, you still need to pursue it with all you’ve got.” He pauses and looks off into the distance, as if viewing his own life in retrospect: four years in the Marine Corps, college on the GI Bill, and 35 years at Eastman Kodak. And also, the years he has spent pursuing nature photography, then woodworking, and now gardening. “I just don’t know how to say all that,” he says. “I don’t know how to tell them without sounding like some old geezer.” I can picture the boys rolling their eyes at the idea that the Declaration of Independence has anything to do with them. “I’ll take a shot at it,” I tell Dad. At the keyboard, I choose words so they pile neatly into sentences, the sentences grow into paragraphs, and the paragraphs build into the shape of his thoughts. I think about how pleasing it is to do this, my own pursuit of happiness. These words, these paragraphs, are my father’s beliefs, the way he has lived his life, as Jefferson intended we would do. Together, we pass these words on to three young men who are just beginning to exercise the liberty of their own lives. With their grandfather’s wish to guide them, they will declare their independence from us, and each set off on his own pursuit of happiness. Family and friends are invited to call on WEDNESDAY from 5-8 PM at Miller Funeral and Cremation Services, Inc., 3325 Winton Road South. In honor of Lou, please dress casual (overalls preferred). Home Pittsford, New York Birthplace Sparta, Illinois Donations In lieu of flowers contributions may be made to: University of Rochester Anatomical Gift Program 601 Elmwood Avenue, Box 709 Rochester, New York 14642 Link to the Website