Herman John Symank

Herman John Symank, 91, of Houston, Texas, passed peacefully into eternal life on December 23, 2022. Born to Johann and Emma (Vogel) Symank on August 28, 1931, Herman was baptized at home shortly after his birth and was confirmed in March of 1945 at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Giddings, Texas. Herman was a 1949 graduate of Giddings High School.

Herman married Bernie Walther of Lincoln, Texas on September 28, 1952. They were blessed with six children and proudly celebrated 70 years together before his passing. Herman was a hardworking husband and father. He and Bernie made it a priority to educate their children in a Christian environment at St. Mark Lutheran School in Houston, Texas. St. Mark remained his church home until his passing.

He was born into a trilingual household at Winchester, Texas in Lee County. His parents spoke English, German, and Wendish, a Slavic language closely related to Czech, and the language of the Wends in eastern Germany. Herman traced his roots to the original Wendish migration on the sailing ship Ben Nevis in 1854, transiting from Hamburg, Germany, through Liverpool, England, stopping briefly in Ireland, and docking finally in Galveston, Texas.

German was the language spoken at home when he was young, and when he first attended school in a one room school-house in Winchester, Texas.

Transitioning from German to English was not his schooling’s only hurdle. It was a several mile walk to the school from the family’s rural home. When the weather was hot Herman and his younger sister, Magdalena, would hide Mason jars of water behind a fallen tree on the way to school at the halfway point so they had water for trip home. There was a creek to cross as well. Herman and his sister would meet another girl whose father had a horse to walk the kids across a creek that ran across their only route to the school. The girl was a year or two older, and when she graduated from eighth grade Herman and Magdalena couldn’t cross the creek. When asked what they did to get school, he said, as if the answer was obvious, “We had to walk to a different school that was farther away.” His last job was driving a school bus for the Spring Branch School District, picking up kids at their door steps and dropping them at the school steps. It must have been satisfying job.

Herman and Bernie made it a priority to educate their children in a Christian environment at St. Mark Lutheran School in Houston, Herman’s church home until his passing. Five went on to receive college degrees at the University of Houston and Texas A&M. The sixth proved that a college degree was not required, contrary to popular belief, to become a successful construction manager for a large firm. There was no prodding and pressure urging the children to high achievement. Achievement to the best of ones ability was just expected and an unwritten agreement among all parties. Herman was proud of what his family accomplished, what they learned by example, and what he, thereby, left to the world.

As a child of the depression, and to his childrens’ chagrin, Herman had a taste for “hard knock” food. When he was a child nothing went to waste…beef tongue and livers, chicken hearts and gizzards, and bony chicken necks. Not very often (but too often from a child’s perspective) meals of chewy boiled tongue, metallic beef liver, and rubbery chicken gizzards, hearts, and rice (the rice, though, was fantastic) were served for supper. The kids ate the minimum required serving hoping secretly that Mom’s fried chicken or Dad’s chili enchiladas would be their reward the following night. Those meals, in hindsight, have taken on an air of poignancy, recognizing now that they were his comfort foods during lean childhood times.

When they had chicken, he ate the backs and tails. To this day, they don’t know if he preferred them, or if he was leaving the better parts for the kids. A couple of the kids, as kids do, watched him, and learned as adults, a secret of his, to locate and pick out the juicy kidneys just below the lowest ribs on the chicken’s back. He didn’t share everything he knew.

There was a piece on the History Channel about preserving meat in the nineteenth century in animal fat, and Herman was asked, as a joke, if his family ever did that.

“Yah, we did that” he said casually, like it was an everyday thing. He explained that they slaughtered a hog or two in the fall, smoked the meat, rendered the fat to make lard, and pushed the joints of meat down into the fat. There was no reliable refrigeration. “The next August it might be all you had left to eat” he explained. What started as a thoughtless joke, led to his children’s understanding of how little appreciation they had for their hard-earned blessings, the things so easily taken for granted.

Like most of his generation, whether by necessity or association, gardening , hunting, and fishing became his hobbies. His second son, Carrol, remembered most well Herman’s association with food. Said Carrol “Dad was a cook when he was with the Texas National Guard. He cooked in large quantities, so it was no surprise that always, or at least many times, he purchased food in bulk. It was not unusual for him to come home with a side of beef that had to be wrapped in freezer paper, or a whole hog, or a deer or drive the family to Kemah to buy two coolers full of shrimp. I remember spending some long nights in the kitchen, peeling shrimp for the freezer, stabbing our fingers with those stupid spikes or horns or whatevers on their heads…and the freezer…it was always full…our go-to for every meal of the week. He raised rabbits for food. He always had a garden. Do you remember having to pull nut grass? It was our job to pull nut grass, but we could never keep up. It was impossible. Vegetables were canned and frozen every year. Cucumbers were pickled. There was always an outing in the spring to pick dewberries at Mrs. Klaus’s house. Do you remember that? We were just little, but we picked berries too. And we had cobblers and pies and Mama made jelly that would last the year.” Carrol continued “Dad was a chili master and entered chili cook offs, and he worked on his BBQ skills to the point that he was pit master for weddings. His favorite fall dishes, and ours too, were his enchilada and his beef stew. He often took charge of Saturday night meals, Sunday, breakfasts, and Sunday dinners. When he’d go fishing, not only did he bring home fish, but he also brought home frogs and soft shell turtles. He did know how to feed his family.”

Douglas, his oldest son adds “He gave me a frozen armadillo once. I barbecued it. You know what it tastes like? Chicken.”

Herman was not a man given to demonstrative physical affection. He was not a hugger. He was a man of few words. Donna, his youngest daughter, explains “He was more inclined to watch and listen rather than participate. On Christmas mornings, he’d stand in the doorway to the living room, coffee cup in hand, and simply smile, watching the frenzy of six children opening gifts. As the kids grew up and moved on, however, they learned to read between the lines of his succinct conversations. When Herman talked with his children about recipes and what he’d read in the newspaper, he was saying, “I’m glad you’re here.” And when the kids would leave to travel home, Herman would, without fail, send them off with some farm-made sausage or home-canned vegetables. This translated to, ‘I love you. Drive safely.’ As his children reached driving age, Herman made time to help them find suitable autos to purchase. He was a fan of advising, ‘Get a bigger car. You want some metal around you for protection in case of an accident.’ What the children didn’t know in those years was that their dad had himself been in an accident in which his car went off an embankment and landed on its roof. Herman was unharmed, perhaps because of the ample “metal” protecting him… but later he confided that his good fortune may have instead been the handiwork of an angel. His efforts to be the teacher will always be noted and appreciated.”

Herman lived a simple life. His wants were few. And we believe he would say he wanted for nothing. He did and provided for those he cared for. And they did and provided for him. In the end, can any of us ask for anything more?

Revelation 21:4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

Preceding Herman in death were his parents; an infant sister; son, Jeffery Symank; daughter-in-law, Shari (the late Jeffery) Symank; parents-in-law; and numerous brothers and sisters-in-law.

Surviving Herman are his wife, Bernie; children, Douglas (Kathy) Symank of College Station, Texas; Carrol (Cheryl) Symank of Chicago, Illinois; Ronald Symank of Houston, Texas; Yvonne Symank of Katy, Texas; and Donna (Michael) Hobus of Nixa, Missouri; daughter-in-law, Kathryn (the late Jeffery) Symank of Tomball, Texas; sisters, Magdalena (the late Erwin) Iselt of Dime Box, Texas; and Florence (Robert) Wrigley of Austin, Texas; grandchildren, Jaclyn (Michael) Mahlmann, William Symank, Emma Symank, Cara (Michael) Parker, Christen (Andy) Huntley, Amanda (Edgardo Lara) Symank, Amber Hobus, and Kevin (Hannah) Dobbs, 12 great- grandchildren, several brothers and sisters-in-law, and numerous nieces and nephews.

Visitation will be held Wednesday, January 4, from 11:00am to 1:00pm at Advantage Funeral and Cremation Services, 7010 Chetwood, Houston, Texas 77081. Burial will follow at 2:00pm at Memorial Oaks Cemetery, 13001 Katy Freeway, Houston, Texas 77079.

Serving as pallbearers are Herman’s nephews Dan Iselt, Dennis Jatzlau, Allen Gruetzner, Russell Friedrich, Byron Walther, and Jonathan Walther.

A Memorial Service and Celebration of Life will be held on Friday, January 27th at 1:00 p.m. at St. Mark Lutheran Church, 1515 Hillendahl, Houston, Texas 77055.

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.AdvantageHoustonFunerals.com for the Symank family.