Gerhard H. Mache

Gerhard H Mache was a savvy businessman, a genial party host, a loving husband and no-nonsense head of household - or, he was The Big German, a wandering adventurer whose wagon wheel broke while crossing a plateau in the desert, stranding him until he could be rescued by the Indian Princess, my grandmother. It should be noted that my grandmother does not have a Native American background that I know of - but that's the sort of bombastic story that my grandparents delighted in telling together, a story that changed slightly with each retelling, evolving and becoming more fantastic over time.

Mac was born on August 19, 1935 to Walter and Hermine Mache. Walter had immigrated to the United States from Germany and raised Mac and his brother Manfred while running a family owned business in the die-casting industry, footsteps that Mac would follow later in his career. Mac graduated from Carl Schurz High School in Chicago, Illinois as a great student and an even better baseball player. He was a proud alumni of Northwestern University in Evanston, IL, though not too proud that he wouldn't loudly cheer for his grandchildren as they went off to college, grad, and law school almost everywhere else.

He met his wife, Jeanne (whether via wagon or other means remains unclear), and they married after his graduation. They raised three children together - Bob, Pam, and Leanne - and maintained a vibrant and active social life together with a cast of long-time friends and family who they entertained everywhere from Door County, to Chicago, to Tuscon, Arizona, where they eventually bought a winter home.

It's fair to say that Mac could be stern and stubborn at times - but he was also a doting grandfather. He'd get down on the floor to play with the best of them, and kept a pool table, foosball table and pinball machine in the basement for the enjoyment of his grandchildren. He was always willing to play Monopoly, as long as he got to be the banker. In his later years, he took a liking to made-for-TV Christmas movies about puppies, right alongside the youngest of the grandkids.

Mac was always ready with a sly trick, witty quip, or silly joke - and a wink, that you had to be sharp to catch, and a twinkle in his eye. On Christmas Eve, he always had to duck out, "to buy ice cream." I was never allowed to go, for some reason - but it was for the best, since his absences conveniently coincided with the exact times that Santa Claus would run through the backyard, tromping through the snow and waving. In later years, he would laugh and tell stories about running to the neighbors' homes and sharing a quick drink before he came back.

In my mind's eye, I always picture my grandfather as if fixed at a particular point in time - late 60s, wispy white hair, larger than life, growling jokes from the back of his throat with a rumbling laugh. Probably, a cocktail in hand. In reality, a stroke 19 years ago fundamentally changed how and who he was. He was told that he had five years to live - by doctors who clearly did not understand either the tenacity of Mac's wife or his own determination. While moving became harder, and sometimes talking too, the wheels kept turning on and on. He was a voracious reader, whether it was the newspaper, business journal, or books, and a devoted dog-dad to a series of sweet and sassy terriers. In his final years, he fell frequently - or, put another way, he kept getting back up, and never gave up. Mac was fortunate to have many dedicated neighbors who buoyed him up, and offered assistance and loving support towards the end.

Mac passed away peacefully on September 29, 2024, with his three children in close attendance and with the well-wishes of grandchildren who called or visited to see a final wink, and to give a final hug goodbye. We know that Jeanne was probably waiting for him just behind the curtain, at least one spunky dog in tow, and hopefully with a large slice of cake, too. We love you, G of G&G.