Norman Andrew Rogowski

He was born in Chicago, Illinois on February 23, 1940. Norm attended Fenwick High School in Oak Park, where he later served as a teacher, counselor and coach. He attended Wright Junior College earning his associate degree before graduating from North Central College in 1964 with a Bachelor of Science Degree. A strong believer in education, Norm continued his educational pursuit and earned a Master of Science in Education from Southern Illinois University in 1966.

Norm recently celebrated his 58th wedding anniversary to Joanne (nee Rini) on July 2nd.

Norm was a long-time member of the American Turner Club, and served as a Board Member for the British Car Union.

He was preceded in death by his parents, Joseph and Josephine Rogowski, and two infant daughters, Beth and Michelle. He is survived by his three children, Kristine Rogowski, Jennifer Van Blake, and Joseph and Diana (nee Lopez) Rogowski; six grandchildren, Katelyn Liptrot, Matthew Liptrot, Joseph Van Blake, Michael Van Blake, Liliana Rogowski and Julian Rogowski; as well as one great-grandchild, Aaron Liptrot.

Norm will be remembered at a Mass at 10 a.m. on Saturday, July 20, 2024 at St. Paul of the Cross Catholic Church in Park Ridge.

“If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run, yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, and what’s more than that, you’ll be a man my son.”

For those of you who do not recognize that rhyme, it is the final verse of the poem “If” by Rudard Kipling. Recently I was reading the paper and noticed that verse as part of an article by a columnist who noted that it was his father’s favorite poem. I immediately flashed back to my own father, who one day pulled the book of Kiplings’s works down from off the fireplace mantle and read that same poem to me as a child. At the time, I didn’t realize why that poem was important to him. After all, my dad was not a poetry kind-of-guy.

So, what kind of guy was he?

He was a man who with one signature whistle, could call his family from throughout the neighborhood home for dinner. He was smart, strong, stubborn and strict. He was a man with a great sense of humor and a quick wit who knew how to laugh at himself. He was a proud Catholic and a strong believer in education. He was a high school and college football athlete. He was a Packer Backer and Vince Lombardi’s biggest fan. He started his love for cars as a “greaser” in high school and became an award-winning car showman and British Car Union Board Member. He was a long-time member of the American Turner Club, Northwest Chapter, and owned his beloved cottage at Turner Camp in Algonquin. He was an artist, an inventor, a teacher and a coach. He liked a good debate, especially if it was about politics. He was a husband of 58 years, a father of three children, a grandfather to six, and recently, a great-grandfather. He was a friend to many.

Although my dad is no longer on this Earth, he is not gone. The best parts of him have just been divided and sprinkled throughout my family. What he was, is what we are. Throughout his life he worked to fill his unforgiving minutes with sixty seconds worth of distance run, and now it is our turn to grab that baton and stay in the race.

As I’ve said, my dad was a very strong man. I actually only remember seeing him cry a very few times in my life—at the death of his parents, at the end of the movie Rudy, and when we gave him a copy of a Vince Lombardi speech for Christmas. It is the times when a person like that does show emotion that it sticks with you.

When I was in second grade, my dad took me out to the Big Top Restaurant on Nagle and Higgins, because we needed to have a serious talk. Somehow, my father had to explain to me, a second-grader, why the twin girls my mom just had would not be coming home from the hospital. He told me he had them baptized twice—just in case the first priest screwed it up—to ensure they would go straight to heaven. He explained how that even though we may not understand why those we love must sometimes leave us, God has a reason for what happens. Then he handed me a small piece of paper that he said was given to him by a nun at the hospital. On it was written a poem.

I have carried that small piece of paper with me since that day. I began this eulogy with a poem, and I would like to end it with one as well.

There’s a Reason

For ev’ry pain

that we must bear,

For ev’ry burden,

ev’ry care,

There’s a reason.

For ev’ry grief,

that bows the head,

For ev’ry teardrop

that is shed,

There’s a reason.

For ev’ry hurt,

for ev’ry plight,

For ev’ry lonely,

pain-racked night,

There’s a reason.

But if we trust God,

as we should,

It all will work out

for our good,

HE KNOWS THE REASON

Thank you all for being here today to support my family and remember my dad.

Kristine Rogowski

For more information please call (773) 622-9300. Thank you.

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.Montclair-LucaniaFuneral.com