Tools

Dad always was a tool guy, even before he went into the tool business. There were always tools at home to fix bicycles, minibikes, plumbing, whatever. He probably didn't know (or didn't acknowledge) that half the kids in the neighborhood would come to our garage when something needed fixing.
Dad kept a separate set of tools for his job, they were on the jobsite or in his truck, out of sight, we didn't dare use them. There was just that one time when we borrowed a pair of pliers from his toolbox, he got to work and they were gone. To make matters worse, he found them laying in the yard. After that, the special "work tools" were kept out of our reach.
I was about 8 years old when Dad took me to Sears, to the tool section of the store. Because he tended to use screwdrivers as chisels, prybars, or mallets, they had to be replaced periodically. On this day, he replaced about half of his tools with shiny new ones, and I, too, was hooked. There is something about the discovery of a new tool that makes it a necessity. There was a day when I was frustrated because I had one of everything from the tool department and couldn't find a reason to shop.

Wheels

Dad had a weakness for anything with wheels. We could seldom agree on music, clothes, food, or manners, but usually agreed on what was useful or good looking in a vehicle.
Grandpa Freyer and Dad decided to build a go cart out of electrical tubing. I wasn't old enough to be much help, but in Grandpa's garage was an acetylene welder and this was my introduction to welding. Most acetylene welding doesn't require grinding, but my first welds needed a lot of grinding, and I suspected that Dad and Grandpa added some so there was more grinding (work for me) to be done. The steering was an engineering marvel, and it worked great. I don't remember what it had for brakes.
The engine was a 3 hp Briggs and Stratton, and it didn't have a recoil starter, just a wheel you wrapped a rope around and pulled to start. You quickly learned to keep the rope with you, as it could be a long walk back if the motor died and you had no way to start it.
Our neighbor, Chuck Castle, had a go cart or two and a track behind the yard shed. We did manage to get some laps in on that track, but we put more miles on that go cart in our own yard. So much for nice grass.
We moved to the country in 1963, and there was a lot of room for the go cart. A dirt road ran next to the Papio Creek, and for the first time we could run at full throttle. Dad soon learned that full throttle had to be turned down for Darrell, as he didn't quite understand the connection between the steering wheel and the front wheels.

Bowling

One of Dad's favorite activities was bowling with Mom. In about 1963, they bowled at the Ranch Bowl in an electricians' league. The Ranch Bowl had an area for child care, and sometimes we were allowed to come to the bowling league, if we stayed out of the way.
One evening, somebody gave us a dime to buy pop from the dispenser, which was located back by the child care area.
We didn't mind sharing, so we all (4 boys) headed for the pop machine. Oh, what a lucky day, as we discovered that if we just pulled on the pop bottles, they'd come out without putting in the dime.
This was a discovery just too good not too share, we found some other kids and showed them how this worked. Of course, this brought a small crowd and the manager had to come see what was going on. Manager proceeded to raise his voice at us, which brought Dad to see what was happening. We knew we were in trouble.
Imagine our surprise when Dad got in the manager's face and said he would take care of any issues with his kids and manager best get out of his way or face consequences. We filed down to the seats with Dad, waiting for the chewing out that never came. Really, he said, what would you expect a kid to do when he finds pop for nothing?
He made a good advocate, plus he was way bigger than the manager.

Eulogy

It's pretty hard to write about Dad and to keep it short. For over 50 years he has been a steady part of our lives, a rock solid provider, coach, and guide,

This is a man who would see things in black and white, always ready to give his opinion and not known to change his mind. There would be no grey area, no doubt about what is expected.
His top priorities didn't change- take care of Mom, make sure his kids learned to to the right thing.
Taking care of Mom wasn't too tough, she doesn't ask for a lot. Teaching his kids to do the right thing was a little tougher- 5 stubborn Freyers who asked for a lot of time, a lot of stuff.
Somehow there was always enough time. I don't remember being cut off short in a conversation or being disappointed because he was not where he was needed.

His question for us was not "did you win?" but "did you do your best?" He expected of himself and expected from us 100% effort if we were to try anything. Sometimes it was not easy for us to appreciate the 100% concept, "good enough" was not an option.

He knew not to give too much. We learned to fend for ourselves and not to count on someone else to help us.
Mom and Dad made great sacrifices for us- there was never a complaint about what they didn't have, they just made the most of what was dealt and enjoyed it.

If you want to appreciate someone, just try to fill their shoes. Dad worked as an electrician for 20 years, then 4 of his sons and a grandson followed in the trade. Because Dad was well respected, the men who knew him were there to help us learn the electrical trade. These union brothers took the time and attention to teach us the right way to do a job.

In 2004 Dad retired from the tool business and I stepped in. Most of that first year, I was the traveling salesman, calling on accounts that Dad had set up years before. He had made such a lasting impression on his customers, that half of my job was done just by showing up.
Those are some big shoes to fill.

We have been blessed by a great role model, a strong example of how to live.
It's been difficult to watch him the past few years. We remember him as strong, fearless, and full of stories. Emphysema robbed his strength, a stroke limited his storytelling, but he never showed any fear. Even in his last days, when it took everthing he had to whisper a few words, he wanted to know how everyone else was doing. He always seemed to take care of others first, but wouldn't want you to know about it.
We would do well to follow his example.