Sylvester Jacob Hilbig

My Daddy

by Clara Klinkovsky

He was “Vester” or Mr. Hilbig to many but just dear daddy to me and Grandpa Vester to my children. He was born July 18, 1907 and died July 16, 1987, two days before his 80th birthday.

I was fortunate to live across the street from my parents after I married. Through the years, I realized how blessed I was to have them nearby so that my children could grow up being with them. Mother was my baby sitter but when Vester was home, my three girls were with Grandpa Vester enjoying his “mini” farm. I would find them riding Vester’s tractor, helping with garden chores and playing with the menagerie of animals. During quiet times, Vester taught them to count and say prayers in German. However, I was doubtful about a few of the German words and it was difficult for me to teach my girls that they could not use Vester’s “mad words.” Those were only for him, not little girls. Daddy could cuss like a sailor but was usually careful and limited his exclamations to “Gol durn!” or, “Ach Du Lieber.” He forbade my five brothers and us five sisters to use “bad” words in the home.

I remember many things about my daddy especially his boisterous laugh, his love of farming, his hard work and endurance through sickness and struggles of raising a large family when money was scarce. His honesty and generosity spilled over to everyone. His greatest pleasure was sending his children and friends home with a grocery sack full of vegetables from his big garden. Around 1959, Brother Bobby helped Vester gather and sell the produce. Bobby had been working at a grocery store and knew the prices. Bobby said, “We picked corn all morning and took it to the corner of South First and Oltorf. After the first sale, I told Vester he could raise the price quite a bit and still easily sell it. The response was something like, ‘It’s not what you can sell it for, it’s what you should sell it for.’”

He provided a home full of love and taught us a deep faith that his parents had instilled in him. He had been especially close to his mother and enjoyed talking about her. He said he remembers her sitting in a rocker with a baby on her lap most of the time when the family knelt on the bare floor praying the daily rosary. Later, she had a stroke that left her paralyzed and he recalled how terrible that was for her. She never fully recovered and he helped her with all the chores after that. He recalled how she had to tip toe on one crooked foot but still went to the garden to show him how to plant, hoe and harvest. Perhaps that is the reason why daddy had such a love for vegetable gardening. Sometimes he would say to Mamma, “Clara, why bother with all the beautiful flowers when you can’t eat them.” He lost his father, mother, a sister and a niece when he was 18 but never forgot them and the importance of family.

Daddy had a good head for numbers and enjoyed a mathematical challenge. He’d say to his son-in-law Charlie, “I can get the answer quicker in my head than you can with your smart slide rule.” Then he’d howl with laughter. His sharp mind made him the best domino and card player around but on occasion, Mamma and I would try his patience by talking during the game and still winning. He would say,“Gal dang, women! Can’t you stop talking for a minute?”

I am thankful that I have some of Daddy’s traits - his laugh and the ability to hug, shed tears and show his love. I can close my eyes, see his smiling face, feel his calloused but gentle hands in mine, hear him say, “I love you” and then hear him play the harmonica as only he could.