Judith Elaine Bartsch

Judith E. Bartsch, age 72, of Riverside, Ohio, passed away Feb. 21, 2017. Judy was a nurse, servicewoman, educator, volunteer, homemaker, wife, and mother. Visitation was on March 6, 2017, from 6-8 PM at the Tobias Beavercreek Chapel, 3970 Dayton-Xenia Rd., Ohio, concluding with a Rosary at 7:30 PM. The funeral Mass was on March 7, 2017, at 10:00 AM at WPAFB’s Our Lady Queen of Peace Parish, 682 Chapel Ln., Riverside. Burial was at the Dayton National Cemetery following the funeral Mass. In lieu of flowers, please, instead, make a donation to Judy’s favorite charity: EWTN, the Global Catholic Network.

Judy is survived by her husband of 44 years (Tom), sisters (Marilyn, Catherine, and Ruth), sons (Michael and Mark), daughter-in-law (Carrie), and grandsons (Stephen, David, and Zachary).

Judy was born in July of 1944 in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, the daughter of Albin and Gertrude Herbst. She was the youngest of five siblings, one brother (Joseph) and her three sisters. She grew up on her father’s dairy farm near the town of Winneconne Wisconsin. She completed her education in 1965 at the Mercy School of Nursing in Oshkosh, where she earned her nursing pin and became a Registered Nurse. She worked at several hospitals in Wisconsin and Illinois before joining the US Air Force Nurse Corps, going on active duty in 1972. She was assigned to the base hospital at Edwards Air Force Base (AFB), California, where she met Tom Bartsch. They were married in late1972. She completed her service commitment in 1974 and was honorably discharged from active duty, but she continued to work as a nurse as a Government civilian until her son, Michael, was born in late 1974. Subsequent assignments for Tom were to the GE plant in Cincinnati (1975), then to Wright-Patterson AFB (1978), to Norton AFB (1983), and back to Wright-Patterson AFB (1988). Judy accompanied Tom on each of these moves. Judy’s second son, Mark, was born in 1978. With the experience of successfully giving birth to two children using the Lamaze method of prepared childbirth as a basis, Judy added to her medical credentials by gaining formal certification as a Lamaze childbirth educator in 1979. She taught weekly classes, mostly as an unpaid volunteer, almost continuous from 1979 to January 2017. In 1994, Judy began tutoring foreign students for whom English was a second language (ESL). She continued this work more formally at Stebbins High School, partly as a volunteer and partly as a paid employee of the Mad River Local School District. She retired in 2005 but continued her volunteer work there until 2009. A number of her ESL students successfully graduated from high school and went on to earn college degrees. Along with the ESL work, she managed the Stebbins High School Career Center, providing information and assistance for all Stebbins students regarding colleges, college applications, scholarships, job training and education, and job applications. This helped a large number of Stebbins graduates get into college. In all, Judy’s life has been long and lived well! We thank God for the blessing of having had her as part of our lives.

What I Learned from My Father (an excerpt from Judy’s memoir, © Judith E. Bartsch 1996):

"Daddy was a farmer. He had a wicked sense of humor, a biting tongue when he was angry, and when provoked, could swear with the best of them. Even though he was busy all day with field work and chores, he always welcomed my “help”, and always found time for me. I learned to build barbed wire and wooden fences, dig post holes, fish, milk cows, feed calves, and love dogs at his side. I curried cows, pitched hay, shoveled manure, drove (a) tractor during haying, and learned the beauty of the May flower blossom, the wild tiger lilies, and potato blossoms. I learned to care for baby chicks, ducks, and cows, cats, and pigs. I learned to catch frogs after a heavy rain and gather night crawlers in the beam of a flashlight. I learned to steer clear of a new mother cow and that she could and would protect her baby. (One jumped into a trailer we were using to take her newborn calf to the barn.) I learned to search the tall marsh grass to find well-hidden newborns (calves). I learned not to tug and pull on a calf to get them to move, because they plant their feet and won’t budge. I learned to back a calf up when you want them to go – in reverse you can get them anywhere. I learned the importance of prayer when I saw Daddy on his knees in the evening before bed, leaning on the seat of the kitchen chair. That was sacred time and I felt like an intruder when I happened upon him. I learned to be kind to elderly people, the importance of a good or sometimes stupid joke. Laughter is important. I learned to pick wild blackberries, and how to find the tiny luscious wild strawberries growing along the road. I learned about crayfish, (and) that all baby animals need their moms or they may die. I learned Daddy was strong -- birthday spankings and “a pinch to grow an inch” hurt. I learned he feared he would kill us if he paddled us for punishment. That’s why Mom did the honors. I learned the joy of eating the tender tips from Timothy, the taste of sour clover, and the love of hickory nuts. I learned pick them up, dry them, shuck them, weigh/sell them, crack them, pick them out, and eat them. I learned boiled shrimp are delicious, especially if someone else peeled them. I learned patience, waiting for Pa to come in from chores on Christmas morning and to return to the house after helping a cow deliver a calf. I learned faith in God when bills came due but the rains never came. I learned humility in requesting a bank loan, a mortgage, an extension on the deadline to pay a bill. I learned about buying the week’s groceries on credit until the milk check came. I learned how to “plant” seeds in a wet cloth to check for germination, but good germination wouldn’t guarantee a good crop if the rains and weather didn’t cooperate. I learned how to husk corn, pull kale from the oat field (for 1 cent each), how to dig, plant, and harvest potatoes and that potatoes love sandy soil. I learned about cattails, butternuts, stick-tights, the smell of burning swamp and the fact its peat can burn for years. I learned the beauty of a deer and the pleasure derived in watching them. I learned to look at the stars while lying on my back in the grass, to catch fireflies in a jar, how to mow the lawn, that cows know how to escape from perfectly good fences, and that they run far and fast. I learned to treasure the sight of a rainbow and enjoy the feel of cool mud squishing between my toes after a heavy rain. I learned to love the sound of a tractor growling as it worked, especially when going through mud. I learned that chocolate was special when taken along on deer hunting days, (and) the joy a few simple pinecones can bring a child. I learned relief when the hunter returned alive and well though sometimes late. I learned not to kill for pleasure but to feed your family. I learned to stack and lift bales of hay, use a hay fork, “mow” away hay in the hay mow, the importance of salting newly harvested hay, and the horror of house and barn fires in the country. I learned the importance of being a good neighbor and helping others. I learned how to be a humble unassuming anyone-would-have-done-it hero after rescuing boaters from a stormy lake on a stormy cold night. I learned to shovel snow, haul rocks on a sled, and oil crushed gravel to keep down the dust. I learned to search the newly plowed earth for arrowheads. I learned the delight of the first bite of a freshly picked apple. I learned Wolf River Apples are huge – over 1 ½ - 2 pounds. I learned it’s okay to put gravy on apple pie. I learned dinner was at noon and supper was at five. I learned dedication to a job well done when I saw Daddy milk cows at 5 AM and 5:30 PM every day. I learned to help out when others were in need, harvesting/threshing grain as a group, helping when someone was sick or injured. I learned cold weather cracks finger skin and makes them bleed. I learned comfort in a big calloused hand holding the tiny hand of a child. I learned to ride horsey of a foot. I learned to pound and pull nails. I learned to drive, how to change spark plugs, oil, a tire, and how to patch an inner tube. I learned how to swim and make willow whistles. I learned how to shovel snow, feed milk to the bulls rather than throw it our during a blizzard, and how to mourn the loss of a cow or newborn calf. I learned farm animals weren’t raised for pets but sold for meat or sale. I learned how to scale and gut fish, skin and gut rabbits and squirrels, and how to pluck chickens, ducks, and geese. I learned to shoot a .22 and a 410 shotgun. I learned the joy of walking the fields. I learned about rust and corn smut. I learned that a crack in dry ground can easily devour a large screwdriver. I learned to sharpen a pencil with a jackknife. I learned the essential in every pocket: a pencil stub, a jackknife, and a pocket watch. I learned to spend a day (negotiating) down the price of a car. I learned to love hardware stores. I learned the pleasure of trading “the jackknife in my pocket, sight unseen.” I learned record keeping on a barn wall or notebook in the beams, I learned about mastitis and the use of wax duct tubes, how to squeeze grubs from cows bitten by flies using a coke bottle, and that bag balm softened your hands. I learned cows laid on kittens who were trying to say warm, tomcats ate kittens, and that barn cats ate mice. I learned patience with small children and the joy of bouncing a toddler on your knee. I learned how farmers do great things from carrying a coffin, to building a church steeple or even a barn. I learned there is pride in hard work, making things grow, and in one’s family. I learned the importance of reading the newspaper, listening to the news, and reading the Sunday comics to a child. I learned about the heart, listening to Daddy’s heart while leaning against his chest while he read Snuffy Smith, the Katzenjammer Kids, and Dagwood and Popeye. I learned not to buy if you don’t have the money unless it was very necessary. I learned how to check the charge on an electric fence while standing on wet grass and holding a long weed on the fence. I learned bravery when grabbing an electric fence with my hand. I learned baby ducks can drown in a heavy rainstorm. I learned to love the smell of cows, manure, the barn, and the new-mown hay. I learned the beauty in storms and the fear in wind and lightning strikes. I learned the fear of seeing your chimney ablaze from a chimney fire, and how to clean the chimney with a log chain. I learned what a marsh clog was and how it was used on (a) horse or mule. I learned about how my grandfather milled sorghum in the cane mill for sorghum molasses. I learned to always close the gate behind you. I learned farmers never lock their doors and that they can fix almost everything. If they can’t, the guy next door can. I learned to love the sound of rain upon the roof, the wind in the trees, the first green of spring, and crunch of autumn leaves and snow beneath your feet. I learned about quicksand, the importance of voting and taking your turn and your time. I learned the importance of my religion and the attendance and participation at Mass. I learned to hate baseball and the Sundays spent watching the Poygan farmers play. I learned about locks on the river, rice lakes, and tamarack trees. I learned the history of logging on the lake, the Steamer Paul L, and the other paddle wheels. I learned about hydroplane races, how to stop a car skidding on ice by practicing skids after slamming on the brakes on the frozen lake. I learned how to chisel a hole in the ice, set a tip-up, and light a stove. I learned about sturgeons, catfish, bluegills, perch, coots, mallards, bullheads, ‘possums, and other wild things. I learned to love the sight and sound of geese flying in formation, the smell of autumn. I learned to respect, honor, and love dogs – workers and protectors as well as friends. I learned to rely on others and let them rely on me. I learned the importance of a kiss, the damage a word can cause, and the need for love. I learned the importance of family and remembering those who have died. I learned the roughness of whiskers and the softness of a beard or a freshly-shaved cheek. I learned real men sweat, and cry when they think no-one sees. I learned to appreciate the heat of a pot-bellied stove on a -30 degree night. Most of all, I learned the importance of a father."