Laudie Adamski Obituary
The sod house the Adamski's lived in before buying the Johnson Farm. The old Johnson Farm.

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In Memory of

Laudie Adamski

October 11, 1924 - May 3, 2014
Obituary
Biography

Written by Michael Adamski, Curt Adamski, Sherri Dyck and Debbie Craine. Today we are gathered here to honor the life of our father, Laudie Adamski. We can’t tell you how often people would tell us what a nice man our father was. He was a nice man. He was also a very private man. He really didn’t like to talk about himself. Because of this, some of what we know of Dad came from him, but just as much came from other people. A few nights ago, Curt, Sherri, Debbie and I got together and talked about Dad telling each other our own stories and experiences with him. We were all surprised about the things we didn’t know about Dad, but learned about from each other. Nearly 90 years ago, our Dad was born into a family of nine children in New Hradec, North Dakota. His parents, Joseph Adamski and Barbara Kostelecky, were both immigrants who had an arranged marriage after they arrived into this country. He lived his first few years in a one room sod house, and his first spoken language was Czechoslovakian. He didn’t learn English until he went to school. His family had a wheat farm and the kids were all expected to pull their weight. Dad said that his job at the tender age of 7 years old was to herd the cows and keep them out of the crops. He did this riding an old lame horse. Years later he still had no desire to get onto the back of another horse. When Dad was 10, the Adamski family packed up and moved to Oregon where his father, Joseph changed careers from farming...
Written by Michael Adamski, Curt Adamski, Sherri Dyck and Debbie Craine.

Today we are gathered here to honor the life of our father, Laudie Adamski. We can’t tell you how often people would tell us what a nice man our father was. He was a nice man. He was also a very private man. He really didn’t like to talk about himself. Because of this, some of what we know of Dad came from him, but just as much came from other people. A few nights ago, Curt, Sherri, Debbie and I got together and talked about Dad telling each other our own stories and experiences with him. We were all surprised about the things we didn’t know about Dad, but learned about from each other.

Nearly 90 years ago, our Dad was born into a family of nine children in New Hradec, North Dakota. His parents, Joseph Adamski and Barbara Kostelecky, were both immigrants who had an arranged marriage after they arrived into this country. He lived his first few years in a one room sod house, and his first spoken language was Czechoslovakian. He didn’t learn English until he went to school. His family had a wheat farm and the kids were all expected to pull their weight. Dad said that his job at the tender age of 7 years old was to herd the cows and keep them out of the crops. He did this riding an old lame horse. Years later he still had no desire to get onto the back of another horse. When Dad was 10, the Adamski family packed up and moved to Oregon where his father, Joseph changed careers from farming to cutting wood for fuel.

It’s pretty remarkable how much Dad achieved in his life. Today it’s not unusual for kids to go to college after high school graduation. Back in Dad’s day it was much more unusual and it was even more so for someone like Dad who came from such a humble family. After high school, Dad enlisted into the U.S Army and served as a Medical Technician. When discharged from the Army, he went to Oregon State with the help of the GI Bill and graduated with a pharmacy degree. He worked as a pharmacist into his mid 70’s until his health declined.

Dad married much later in life than many of his contemporaries probably because he was focused on his schooling. In the 1950’s he met our mom then named Barbara Bauer who worked as a waitress at the old “five and dime store”, named “Woolworths” where he used to go to eat lunch. When their marriage ended 8 years and 4 kids later, Dad was nudged into becoming more of a “hands-on” father than most of his contemporaries, and definitely more of a ”hands-on” father than he had ever had to be before. Every other weekend two of us went to spend the weekend with him. He took us to movies, baseball games, basketball games, hockey games and circuses. We went swimming at the pool at his apartment some weekends and visiting at Aunts and Uncles houses on others. We always went to mass every Sunday and afterwards, we would go eat at the Pancake Pantry. Every Birthday and Christmas without fail, there were gifts, hand-wrapped by him for all of us. For someone who grew up with a role model that gave little attention to his kids, Dad surpassed all parenting expectations for males of his generation.

Dad was a big softie when it came to animals, but he would never admit it. He always said he didn’t want an animal, but that did not stop him from inviting in and feeding any cat or dog that showed up on his doorstep. Bags of pet food in the cupboards and little tin bowls out on the patio were the norm. And, it wasn’t uncommon to see Dad practicing his golf swings in front of the TV while the neighbor’s 70 pound German shorthair named, Heidi, lounged on his couch watching him and sharing his cookies.

Dad loved sports. And, he was a fan of all the Portland teams. The Trailblazers, Beavers and the Buckaroos, Portland’s hockey team at the time. I can remember how excited he was back in 1977 when the Portland Trailblazers beat the Philadelphia Seventy 76ers to win the NBA championship. I was with Dad that day. I was sitting on the floor in his living and Dad was sitting where he usual did, in his rocker recliner. It was Curt’s graduation day. He was graduating from Molalla high school. It was the 6th game in a 7 game series. Portland was up 3 games to 2. Dad and I were watching the game that would most likely end just minutes before Curt’s graduation would begin. The Blazers were up by 2, 109 – 107 with less than 10 seconds to play. George McGinnis for the 76ers put up a last shot, it bounced off the rim and Bill Walton tipped it out toward half court, the game was over and the Blazers were NBA champions. I can remember how excited Dad was that day. Oh, we did end up making to Curt’s graduation in time. Just barely.

But, it is well known that Dad lived to play golf…rain or shine. He had a membership to Arrowhead Golf Club in Mollala, OR. And, most likely that golf club lost money on him for the amount of golf Dad played each month. He always carried his golf clubs in the trunk of his car just in case the urge to hit the links got to him when he was out and about. It was a very sad day when Dad’s health got bad enough that he finally had to quit playing golf.

Our Dad LOVED flashy cars. He owned one of the early sports cars that Ford manufactured. It was a 1965 Mustang fastback. It was light blue in color and had white vinyl interior. He later purchased a red Toyota Celica. We can’t explain it, but Dad purchased a green Ford Pinto in-between the time he owned these two sports cars. And, if you know what a Pinto looks like, well, it’s as far from “flashy” as you can get. Anyway, Dad loved flashy cars, but he always drove them 10-15 miles under the posted speed limit. Now, most people get pulled over by the police for speeding. Dad… he got pulled over for going too slow…….REPEATEDLY! In fact, when Curt was taking his driving test he was driving the way Dad had taught him. Partway through the test, the person from the DMV driving with him, told him that if he did not “pick up the pace to the posted speed limit”, he was going to flunk the test.

Dad was a generous man both with his time and his money. In addition to being a full-time pharmacist, he volunteered at a local pharmacy that provided medications for people with low incomes and he was the head umpire for Molalla’s Little League for several years. Judging by all the “thank you gifts” and pictures of sponsored children he had scattered around his apartment, Dad must have been on both speed dial and the mailing lists of what seemed like every charity in the U.S, but you would never hear a peep of any of this from him because he would never dream of “tooting his own horn”.

Dad lived to just a few months shy of his 90th birthday. He lived a long life, but for the last 25 or so years, it was not really a very healthy life. He learned a lot first-hand about pain and suffering. In addition to having chronic pain from peripheral neuropathy, there wasn’t really an organ system in his body that was healthy. Despite his health problems, he was tenacious… he was quite literally someone determined to totally ware his body out…and he did an admirable job. Throughout his life he was a deeply religious man and when his health prevented him from attending mass, he moved to St. Anthony’s Assisted Village so that he could be near a Catholic community. He was able to once again attend mass and developed a very close friendship with his buddy, Jim. Even when his health deteriorated and he was forced to move to a facility that could give more extensive care, he and Jim would talk on the telephone several times a day up until the time he passed.

Throughout Dad’s life, it was always evident how much he really enjoyed his family. He enjoyed seeing friends and relatives at parties and reunions. The older he got, the more he seemed to enjoy having people around him. These included the kind and loving people who took care of him at the adult foster care home, those who brought communion to him and the people providing his home care. And, while we his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces, nephews and friends are missing him, I am sure, no, I know he is again playing golf and having the grandest party with his family who have already moved on.

So, for such a quiet and unassuming man, Dad made his mark on the world and we are all better off having known him. I guess, when all is said and done, that’s really the best legacy that anybody can leave behind.

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"My condolences to all of my uncle's immediate family. To me, he was my Godfather and favorite uncle. I remember him as having a great sense of humor,being..." Mary Ellen Weishaar (:Las Vegas, NV)

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