Hubert A. Kahlich
29 June 1939 - 10 June 2018
There’s a story about Fred Rogers, the children’s television host (Mr Rogers), about how one day, when he was in his early 30s, he got on the scale and decided he was at the perfect weight for his body, and decided to remain that weight for the rest of his life. A simple decision. Unannounced. But maintained until the day he died -- if his trousers got a little tight, he just made a small, quiet adjustment. If they got a little loose, he just made a little adjustment again.
There are certain men in this world who just quietly do their own thing. They determine for themselves what their lives should look like and should be, regardless of what society tells them, and they simply do it. No fanfare, no asking permission. They understand that talking slows you down, that keeping things simple also keeps you free.
My dad was no Mr Rogers, but he was one of these men.
A few years ago, I was talking to my dad about something I wanted to do -- I don’t remember any more what it was, exactly, but I remember his response. He said, “stop worrying about what everyone else thinks and live your life. You do what you want in life.”
I don’t know if he meant that literally, as in “do whatever you want with your life, I’ll love you anyway,” or if he meant it in a more profound way. Because he was my dad, I took the more profound interpretation… and found it to be true. I’ve been living by it ever since - it’s made me pay attention to my own life, and it made me look again at my dad, at the way he lived his, and what else I could learn from him.
I learned courage. I learned that you can leave your home country, and your family’s expectations, and start a life somewhere else and the world won’t fall apart. It may be hard work in your new country, but you will survive it.
I learned that you don’t really need to talk about doing things before doing them. You can just do them, it’s ok.
I learned that life is just as interesting behind the spotlight as it is in it.
I learned that it’s ok to not do things that don’t interest you
I learned exercise is only fun when it’s in the form of sports
I learned that being good enough is good enough (although it helps a lot when your good enough is everyone else’s great)
I learned that competition is healthy on a tennis court or golf course or around the card table, but not against yourself, and not against your family or friends (unless you friends happen to be on the tennis court or golf course)
I learned to give people room to be themselves.
I learned that being a creature of habit gives you lots of free time… to enjoy the sun, read a good book, listen to music, hang out with friends, be with your family.
I learned to never hold on too tightly, that love isn’t a tight grip but an open hand.
I learned that life is too fleeting to worry, and too short to be stingy.
I learned that if you’re in a position to help, help. Don’t even hesitate.
I learned that doing the right thing is a choice, and it’s just as easy to choose the right thing as it is to choose the wrong one… but when you choose the right thing, you never have to doubt yourself.
I learned never to hold a grudge, but that you can also keep your dignity: you can forgive, but that doesn’t mean you have to forget. You can learn from your mistakes, and do better next time. It’s just a slight adjustment
I learned that you can keep learning no matter your age. That humans really do evolve over time -- my dad went from never telling us how he felt to saying “I love you” at the end of every phone call. (That’s thanks to you, Jean Taffe)
My dad laughed when he said goodbye at the end of every phone call -- did he do that with you? I could never figure out was so funny to him, but I learned that it’s better to say goodbye with laughter than with tears.
I don’t know how to end this eulogy. My dad has influenced so much of my life and what I’m doing with it today -- he was my first audience as a storyteller, my first movie partner, my first coach, my first boss, my first travel buddy, my first dance partner, my first best friend. I know he wasn’t a man who was very focused on arts and culture, but believe it or not, he has been my greatest source of inspiration:
The way I speak and tell a story is because of him, because I wanted to be clear so he could understand me back when he was still new in this country and his English not very good.
Years ago, I wrote a screenplay, a Western that was inspired by the Spaghetti Westerns we used to watch together. That script was appropriated, shall we say, by a well known director and went on to win an Academy Award. It’s some of my best writing.
When my parents divorced, my dad turned his disappointment into humor, and joked to me about making a bet to get my mom remarried. That joke became another screenplay that was bought by a production company in India, to make it into a Bollywood film.
At the Art Institute of Chicago one day, he asked me to explain to him why I liked a certain painting -- not what I liked about it, but why. Trying to explain my love for art to him was the seed for my podcast about art, that’s now used in institutes for the blind in the US and Australia.
His “do what you want in life” I learned later is actually a concept in behavioral therapy that I use as a foundation in my self defense teaching. His intuitive way of living in his body helps me listen to mine, and his joy of moving, of being active, has inspired me over many years to find my own sports to enjoy. I do martial arts because he did martial arts; I ski because he took us skiing. I play tennis because he loved tennis so much. I’m sorry, but I hate golf.
His impact on my life reaches beyond just me, has inspired me to create art and reach out and teach, and hopefully touch others as well, or at least move them. He never knew it, but his influence goes far into the world, way beyond just me.
Of all the things I learned from him, and all the ways I’m proud to be like him, the one thing I didn’t inherit, and I’ve never been able to learn, is how to laugh when I’m saying goodbye.
Goodbye, Dad. Thank you for all you’ve given me. I love you.
Acknowledgements and Thank Yous
Hubert Kahlich, passed away on Sunday June 10th at 2:55pm, surrounded by his four children. It was a quiet and peaceful transition, and we all had a chance to talk to him, tell him we love him and thank him for everything he gave us, over the two days before. His last full sentence to us was “I guess it’s time to call it a day. I’m ready.” He was prepared--and knowing him, probably impatient -- to go.
It was hard for all of us in this room to see Hubert suffer, and for us, his family, a huge relief to let him go. Don't get me wrong: we miss him terribly; we never wanted to say goodbye, and we wish we could have spent many more years with him. But he was such an active man his whole life, and the things he loved to do most were playing tennis and golf. Without being able to do those things, he would have been very, very unhappy. And he wasn’t, by nature, an unhappy man. We're glad he did get in one more tennis game a couple of weeks ago, and a last cigar.
A few of you also were able to send messages that we were sad to deliver, but so proud to be able to tell our dad how much he meant to so many. And a couple of you also were able to visit him in the hospital and send him on his way with love and friendship in his heart.
On behalf of myself and my brothers, Steven, Michael and Jason, our cousins Tim, Scott, Nico, Andrea, Jessica and Anna Britta, Rolf, Wolfgang, Susanne, Ute and Andreas, our dad’s sisters Margarete and Anne-Marie, his brother in law Volker and sister in law Frances, we would like to thank all of you for the deep love and support, laughter and friendship you shared with our dad over the years, and especially over the past 18 months.
Our sincerest thanks to Oak Park Country Club, Rolling Green Country Club, the GCCMA, and the Catering Executives of America for remembering Hubert with such generosity, dignity and respect.
Thank you also to the many friends at Oak Park Tennis Club, and the companion clubs in the Bahamas, Florida, and everywhere our dad hit the courts. Your welcoming and true friendship to him over the years brought him so much happiness and pleasure, we cannot possibly thank you enough for the joy you brought into our dad’s life. We hope his memory lives on with each chip, every backspin, and every time you smash it down the line. And remember: never let ‘em see you sweat.
We thank his good friends Paddy and Greg, who have spent so many years with Hubert, supporting each other in sobriety, holding each other up, and helping each other through, one day at a time. Your open spirits and strength gave Hubert strength, too, and your solid circle of support and commitment was a source of quiet pride in his life. We know he was a good mentor, and a good learner too, and we are so grateful that you found each other on your journeys.
Our very deep and profound thank you to Tracy, who has been a daily part of Hubert’s life for the past twenty years. You included Hubert in your life, and he included you in his, as friends and confidants and colleagues. You learned from him, and you gave back to him by keeping him connected to the world he devoted so much of his life to…. And keeping him connected to your family and your life in a way that only real friends can, sharing the triumphs and the bumps in the road, a friendship of pure giving and open hands and sharing life simply because you liked each other. Thank you, Tracy, for being such a good, and dear, friend.
We’d like to especially express our gratitude to his wonderful doctors, Dr Grendon and Dr Gilman for their care and their friendship too, and for sharing stories with us about our dad. Your help with his cancer and your kindness in his transition has helped us as well, and we are so grateful to you.
And lastly, The Buddies: Jovan, Peter, Peter, Milo, Fritz, Doc and the rest of your old gang. You were Hubert’s first friends here in this new country, his points of contact and his touchstones in times good and bad. You teased each other, you bet against each other all the time, you had adventures and laughs and ups and downs. You grew old together. You have spent a lifetime together, you Buddies, and you are the cherished keepers of Hubert’s oldest memories and his most treasured moments in life. You were the core of his being outside of his family, and you are family to us. Our hearts are full but our words can never be enough to tell you how grateful we are to be a part of your lives, and that you have been so long a part of our dad’s. Thank you to all of you. We love you too.
We thank all of you who have gathered here today to commemorate the life and friendship of Hubert Kahlich, who have shared his life and made it richer too through your friendship and love. Thank you very much for coming.
There are certain men in this world who just quietly do their own thing. They determine for themselves what their lives should look like and should be, regardless of what society tells them, and they simply do it. No fanfare, no asking permission. They understand that talking slows you down, that keeping things simple also keeps you free.
My dad was no Mr Rogers, but he was one of these men.
A few years ago, I was talking to my dad about something I wanted to do -- I don’t remember any more what it was, exactly, but I remember his response. He said, “stop worrying about what everyone else thinks and live your life. You do what you want in life.”
I don’t know if he meant that literally, as in “do whatever you want with your life, I’ll love you anyway,” or if he meant it in a more profound way. Because he was my dad, I took the more profound interpretation… and found it to be true. I’ve been living by it ever since - it’s made me pay attention to my own life, and it made me look again at my dad, at the way he lived his, and what else I could learn from him.
I learned courage. I learned that you can leave your home country, and your family’s expectations, and start a life somewhere else and the world won’t fall apart. It may be hard work in your new country, but you will survive it.
I learned that you don’t really need to talk about doing things before doing them. You can just do them, it’s ok.
I learned that life is just as interesting behind the spotlight as it is in it.
I learned that it’s ok to not do things that don’t interest you
I learned exercise is only fun when it’s in the form of sports
I learned that being good enough is good enough (although it helps a lot when your good enough is everyone else’s great)
I learned that competition is healthy on a tennis court or golf course or around the card table, but not against yourself, and not against your family or friends (unless you friends happen to be on the tennis court or golf course)
I learned to give people room to be themselves.
I learned that being a creature of habit gives you lots of free time… to enjoy the sun, read a good book, listen to music, hang out with friends, be with your family.
I learned to never hold on too tightly, that love isn’t a tight grip but an open hand.
I learned that life is too fleeting to worry, and too short to be stingy.
I learned that if you’re in a position to help, help. Don’t even hesitate.
I learned that doing the right thing is a choice, and it’s just as easy to choose the right thing as it is to choose the wrong one… but when you choose the right thing, you never have to doubt yourself.
I learned never to hold a grudge, but that you can also keep your dignity: you can forgive, but that doesn’t mean you have to forget. You can learn from your mistakes, and do better next time. It’s just a slight adjustment
I learned that you can keep learning no matter your age. That humans really do evolve over time -- my dad went from never telling us how he felt to saying “I love you” at the end of every phone call. (That’s thanks to you, Jean Taffe)
My dad laughed when he said goodbye at the end of every phone call -- did he do that with you? I could never figure out was so funny to him, but I learned that it’s better to say goodbye with laughter than with tears.
I don’t know how to end this eulogy. My dad has influenced so much of my life and what I’m doing with it today -- he was my first audience as a storyteller, my first movie partner, my first coach, my first boss, my first travel buddy, my first dance partner, my first best friend. I know he wasn’t a man who was very focused on arts and culture, but believe it or not, he has been my greatest source of inspiration:
The way I speak and tell a story is because of him, because I wanted to be clear so he could understand me back when he was still new in this country and his English not very good.
Years ago, I wrote a screenplay, a Western that was inspired by the Spaghetti Westerns we used to watch together. That script was appropriated, shall we say, by a well known director and went on to win an Academy Award. It’s some of my best writing.
When my parents divorced, my dad turned his disappointment into humor, and joked to me about making a bet to get my mom remarried. That joke became another screenplay that was bought by a production company in India, to make it into a Bollywood film.
At the Art Institute of Chicago one day, he asked me to explain to him why I liked a certain painting -- not what I liked about it, but why. Trying to explain my love for art to him was the seed for my podcast about art, that’s now used in institutes for the blind in the US and Australia.
His “do what you want in life” I learned later is actually a concept in behavioral therapy that I use as a foundation in my self defense teaching. His intuitive way of living in his body helps me listen to mine, and his joy of moving, of being active, has inspired me over many years to find my own sports to enjoy. I do martial arts because he did martial arts; I ski because he took us skiing. I play tennis because he loved tennis so much. I’m sorry, but I hate golf.
His impact on my life reaches beyond just me, has inspired me to create art and reach out and teach, and hopefully touch others as well, or at least move them. He never knew it, but his influence goes far into the world, way beyond just me.
Of all the things I learned from him, and all the ways I’m proud to be like him, the one thing I didn’t inherit, and I’ve never been able to learn, is how to laugh when I’m saying goodbye.
Goodbye, Dad. Thank you for all you’ve given me. I love you.
Acknowledgements and Thank Yous
Hubert Kahlich, passed away on Sunday June 10th at 2:55pm, surrounded by his four children. It was a quiet and peaceful transition, and we all had a chance to talk to him, tell him we love him and thank him for everything he gave us, over the two days before. His last full sentence to us was “I guess it’s time to call it a day. I’m ready.” He was prepared--and knowing him, probably impatient -- to go.
It was hard for all of us in this room to see Hubert suffer, and for us, his family, a huge relief to let him go. Don't get me wrong: we miss him terribly; we never wanted to say goodbye, and we wish we could have spent many more years with him. But he was such an active man his whole life, and the things he loved to do most were playing tennis and golf. Without being able to do those things, he would have been very, very unhappy. And he wasn’t, by nature, an unhappy man. We're glad he did get in one more tennis game a couple of weeks ago, and a last cigar.
A few of you also were able to send messages that we were sad to deliver, but so proud to be able to tell our dad how much he meant to so many. And a couple of you also were able to visit him in the hospital and send him on his way with love and friendship in his heart.
On behalf of myself and my brothers, Steven, Michael and Jason, our cousins Tim, Scott, Nico, Andrea, Jessica and Anna Britta, Rolf, Wolfgang, Susanne, Ute and Andreas, our dad’s sisters Margarete and Anne-Marie, his brother in law Volker and sister in law Frances, we would like to thank all of you for the deep love and support, laughter and friendship you shared with our dad over the years, and especially over the past 18 months.
Our sincerest thanks to Oak Park Country Club, Rolling Green Country Club, the GCCMA, and the Catering Executives of America for remembering Hubert with such generosity, dignity and respect.
Thank you also to the many friends at Oak Park Tennis Club, and the companion clubs in the Bahamas, Florida, and everywhere our dad hit the courts. Your welcoming and true friendship to him over the years brought him so much happiness and pleasure, we cannot possibly thank you enough for the joy you brought into our dad’s life. We hope his memory lives on with each chip, every backspin, and every time you smash it down the line. And remember: never let ‘em see you sweat.
We thank his good friends Paddy and Greg, who have spent so many years with Hubert, supporting each other in sobriety, holding each other up, and helping each other through, one day at a time. Your open spirits and strength gave Hubert strength, too, and your solid circle of support and commitment was a source of quiet pride in his life. We know he was a good mentor, and a good learner too, and we are so grateful that you found each other on your journeys.
Our very deep and profound thank you to Tracy, who has been a daily part of Hubert’s life for the past twenty years. You included Hubert in your life, and he included you in his, as friends and confidants and colleagues. You learned from him, and you gave back to him by keeping him connected to the world he devoted so much of his life to…. And keeping him connected to your family and your life in a way that only real friends can, sharing the triumphs and the bumps in the road, a friendship of pure giving and open hands and sharing life simply because you liked each other. Thank you, Tracy, for being such a good, and dear, friend.
We’d like to especially express our gratitude to his wonderful doctors, Dr Grendon and Dr Gilman for their care and their friendship too, and for sharing stories with us about our dad. Your help with his cancer and your kindness in his transition has helped us as well, and we are so grateful to you.
And lastly, The Buddies: Jovan, Peter, Peter, Milo, Fritz, Doc and the rest of your old gang. You were Hubert’s first friends here in this new country, his points of contact and his touchstones in times good and bad. You teased each other, you bet against each other all the time, you had adventures and laughs and ups and downs. You grew old together. You have spent a lifetime together, you Buddies, and you are the cherished keepers of Hubert’s oldest memories and his most treasured moments in life. You were the core of his being outside of his family, and you are family to us. Our hearts are full but our words can never be enough to tell you how grateful we are to be a part of your lives, and that you have been so long a part of our dad’s. Thank you to all of you. We love you too.
We thank all of you who have gathered here today to commemorate the life and friendship of Hubert Kahlich, who have shared his life and made it richer too through your friendship and love. Thank you very much for coming.
