Cliff Petersohn
Both my mother and father were German immigrants who came from the same home town of Weissenfels, Germany as Hans. But I'm pretty sure my father did not meet him until school in Berlin where they became lifelong friends. My dad referred to Hans as 'Alte Flasche', an endearing term for that. During the 1950s our families landed in Peabody, Massachusetts where I grew up with Harold, Carla, and their cousin Ron who all lived within earshot of our back yard. In those days we really didn't have much possibility to know our relatives back in Germany, and through countless gatherings the entire Dietsch family simply became and remains part of our own.
My 'Onkel Hans' was the definition of what some may call old school. Among the many life lessons he taught me were an unconditional love of family, integrity, and a commitment to excellence in whatever one does. He instilled a love of and respect for the outdoors to all. In Germany he was known for riding motorcycles, and as a lifelong biker this fact was instrumental in convincing my parents to allow me to acquire one at a very young age. I will always remember trips to New York, Virginia, and Vermont when Harold would lead us to countless fishing holes (some might say swamps) undoubtedly explored previously by his father. Even a failed ski trip when I almost injured Carla in a futile effort to steer clear of a loose dog on snow covered Hanley Lane, after which Hans engineered some cross country excursions.
We will miss you deeply Onkel Hans. Our deepest condolences to the entire Dietsch family. As a believer I can only offer comfort in the knowledge that he now rejoins my own father in celebrating the raising of their glasses together once again. Rest in peace Alte Flasche.
Wednesday July 27, 2016 at 6:21 pm
