Here's part of my story about my Dad.\nThe menu today is in memory of my dad, Dennis. When I first heard the definition of a feminist and that it was a descripter of a women I was surprised becasue the actions were that of my father. As an only daughter I was never treated as a princess or different than the 4 boys. I learned from him by following him around and taking in what he was doing. I don't remember many words being exchanged. I learned how to change the oil in my first car, a 1968 Chevy, that he encouraged me to buy and work on. It was much easier to "know your car" in those days. I learned to shingle a roof when I helped him with the house-addition roof. "Pound don't tap" were the few words he shared. We would sit together when he tended to the brats that always turned out evenly browned. I was not allowed to hug him when he came home from open-heart surgery because I had chicken pox. The doctor told him he should be dead based on 3.75 blockages in his heart and the fact that he smoked. He was one of the experimental surgeries after he quick smoking cold turkey in order to get in on the opportunity. Then he lived another 44 years.\n\nAnd in those 44 years he continued to teach, help raise his kids and become a happy man ... again. There's a story there too. His last wish as he retired from teaching at Stout was for the committee to interview at least two educators of color and at least one woman. Wish granted. \n\nIn retirement years he built an addition on the cottage, traveled to Morocco, Norway and visited his brother in Italy. He also met Nelson Mandela when he was in South Africa. He chose to go on the trip to see where Mandela lived; he never thought he would meet him. But there he is in that photo- sitting on the edge of his seat to soak in all Mandela had to say. The group noticed when the got off the bus in Soweto, Mandela's hometown, that there were an abundance of security. When he heard the group from St. Olaf was in town, he invited them to his home. \n\nHe was recycling before it was popular. in 1971 Stout sold off 3 houses they wanted taken apart rather than bulldozed down. He bid on 3 and got all 3 for $25, $45 and $75. He had to purchase an abandon house to store the toilets and bathtubs. The windows ended up in the addition to the cottage. He sold maple flooring, a curved staircase, lath and whatever someone else could use ... without the internet. Since he had built their first house on nights and weekends after a day in the classroom I guess taking one apart was not such a big deal. \n\nAgain before internet Dad went to a fellow professor of psychology and asked him for information on a topic. When Lou handed him a paper that was exactly like one he had received from a different student he decided that maybe the read a chapter, take a quiz and write a paper wasn't offering a good enough platform for learning. So the first day of class he worked WITH the students to create a syllabus designed to meet the learning goals of the particular class. Teaching the learning how to learn was more important than regurgitating information was his MO.\n\nLoved the learning. Thankful for the memories. I'll stop now. Thanks for listening.