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| RAYMOND "APOLLO" NOWICKI |
Written by his loving & devoted son; Dale Nowicki ...He was born in Chicago and lived on the north side. Details of his life as a child through his teenage days are very limited. I know my father was an avid bicyclist and enjoyed going to Montrose Beach. Perhaps that is why I have always enjoyed riding a bicycle for long distances too as he did also. ...I know my father enlisted in the Army and was part of a construction battalion operating heavy equipment and building bridges during the Korean War. During his time in the service he was wounded by a stray bullet from a fellow soldier. My father did his R & R over in Japan and then came back stateside to finish his rehabilitation. He was honorably discharged with the rank of corporal and awarded the Purple Heart for his injury and service to our country. ...My fathers return back to Chicago brought him again back to Montrose Beach where he met up with his high schools buddies. He hung around with a bunch of guys who were tumblers and hand standing enthusiasts. They would flip around, and walk around on there hands in hopes of attracting good looking girls. I believe that is how he met my mother, at Montrose Beach. So, as history has it they fell in love and got married on May 24, 1953. ...Then Raymond helped build with his father, Frank Sr. a large brick home in Franklin Park. My dad and grandfather did all of the brick & mortar and carpentry work together. Then they both built a very small home in the back of the property, and when I mean small, I mean 600 square feet. It was not more than a work shed but it was home for the Nowicki's to start their life together. That is where I was born and raised till 1959. My father then became a carpenter and joined the local Carpenters Union in Des Plaines, IL. Then my father and mother bought property up in Mundelein and built that home together, side by side, husband and wife. Then my sister, Sheryl was born in 1960 and as a family we remained there till 1979. My parents and sister then moved to Ridgedale, Mo down by Branson, Mo and all 3 built that house together. After my father and mother retired and lives slowed down it became apparent that it was time to move back closer to family. So, I went to down to Ridgedale, Mo in 2005 and moved them up to Poplar Grove, IL where they bought the home in which my father died in. ...So, that is the data of my father, Raymond, but still does not tell the story of the man, the son, the father, the husband that he was. Here are some of my memories of that man. Memories of my father; ...One Christmas night I heard Santa Claus on the roof, perhaps I was 8-9 years old. I heard my mother say that you better get to sleep quickly so Santa can leave you lots of presents. Well, I did get to sleep and Santa did leave me presents, lots of them too. Also, I saw where Santa had the reindeer had landed in the front yard and had left the tracks in the fresh snow. Later in my years my dad explained that he climbed up on the roof on Christmas Eve and walked around the roof like jolly old Santa. He also explained that he made a device out wood the mimic the sleigh marks and hoof marks of the deer. My dad was very ingenious with his ideas with wood. I also remember that Santa always drank the milk, ate the cookie and drank the shot of whiskey left for him by the fireplace. I always wondered why Santa needed whiskey, dad explained because it was very cold outside and it helped Santa stay warm. ...Our Thanksgiving Day tradition consisted of my sister Sheryl, Dad and I would watch the Macy's Day Parade as mom would be prepared the turkey and dressing for the feast. Then we would get dressed warmly and go out for a long walk, usually 5 to 7 miles. We would plan it so that when we got home, we would do so as close to dinner time as possible. This was because when we opened the door, all of the good smells were so overwhelmingly delicious we could not wait to eat. Another family tradition was to invite a stranger into our home. We would have a senior citizen from a retirement home or perhaps a sailor from Great Lakes Naval Station share our Thanksgiving dinner with us. ...When I was 8 years old I was in a Cub Scout troop and there were always opportunities to have father/son moments. The most memorable one was making my race car for the Pinewood Derby. My father and I carved out the body; hand smoothed it, smoothed the axles for the wheels, painted it and even put on racing stripes. All of the cars had to weigh the exact same weight or the car would be disqualified. Dad and I worked on that car for two (2) weeks and when it was done it was ready to race. It was a thing of beauty. Well, at the event my car did very well until the last round when I came in 2nd place. I was disappointed that I did not take 1st place, however I discovered that the car that won had placed weights in the cars which altered its performance. My dad told me that his winning was not done fairly or with honesty. So, as far as he was concerned, I was the winner because I honored the Cub Scout oath and was truthful and honest. I had a lot of pride in that moment and learned a valuable life lesson from my father. ... When we moved to Mundelein all the one acre property had were weeds and no trees. I remember all the trees, bushes, grass and plants that I planted with my father. It was a lot of work, but it was always good to do it with my father. He sure did teach me a lot about the great outdoors. ...Another great memory was when we use to go sledding around our subdivision. Back then, the roads were all snow packed and it took a long time for the plows to get around to our subdivision. So, that meant hard packed snow covered roads. We had a neighbor that had an old military 4 wheel drive truck. We use to hook up our 4 person bobsled and 2 or 3 sleds behind and drive around the subdivision. Well, my father and some other dads were on the sleds and they would get whipped all over and would roll off into the culverts. We would come back around and pick them up all covered in snow. My dad would always what to do it again and always smiling the whole time. Those were some good times growing up. ...Mushroom hunting; my dad loved his mushrooms and he loved to go out into the forest looking for all the different kinds. Over the years he became very good at locating them during the different times of the year. He always kept three (3) books with him with detailed descriptions and pictures of the mushrooms. If all three (3) books did not agree that the mushroom were edible, he would leave it alone and not pick it. In all the years, none of us in our family ever got sick from any of these forest delicacies. One time up in Door County, Wisconsin, we picked at least five (5) 30 gallon trash bags of black inky mushrooms. I never understood why we did but my father insisted that we keep on picking. Well, when we got home that night, my mother had to cook all of those mushrooms and then freeze them. Our freezer was packed full of those tender morsels and every time my mother cooked them, I always remembered that day picking them with my father. ...Fishing with dad; we all went up to a cabin in Lac Du Flambeau, Wisconsin on Memorial Day, 4th of July and Labor Day weekend. I can remember my Dad would get up well before dawn and go out onto the lake. Up in northern Wisconsin it is so quiet in the morning and all you hear are the loons and ducks on the lake. When breakfast was about fifteen (15) minutes from being ready, mom would tell me to go out on the dock and call for your dad. Even as a young boy I could yell loud enough that my father could hear me three (3) miles away on the lake. I could hear him say "ok", and then I could hear the anchor being pulled up into the oar lock, then the recoil on the motor and the boat coming all the way into the dock. I would wait on the dock and help him tie up the boat. He would show me all or none of the fish that he caught. He was always hoping for that "big one". In all the years of fishing, he got a couple of nice fish, but never that ever elusive "big muskie". He never tired of that hope and always enjoyed his time fishing. ...There was another time when my father and I were fishing out on Diamond Lake. It was a nice afternoon and the motor on my father's boat was acting up. Suddenly there was a backfire and then an explosion from the motor. Then there were flames all over the back of the boat. My father threw the 5 gallon gas tank overboard and then threw me overboard. The whole back of the boat was on fire and he tried to put out the fire with water. A nearby boat came by and helped put out the fire with a fire extinguisher. This was the second time my father saved my life. ...When I was about 6 years old my father was fishing at the pond in our subdivision. There was an island in the middle of this small pond and there was a set of boards that went to the island. He told me to stay on the shore and not to step on the boards. Gee, why would a 6 year old ever listen to his father? Well, I went out on the boards and slipped and fell into the water. My dad said all he saw were my baby blue eyes looking up at him in the clear water. He jumped in and pulled me out of the water. All I remember is coughing out water and mud out of my mouth. ...Camping; was a family tradition since I was seven (7) years old. Our family has gone all over these United States and Canada. Some of the more memorable trips were around Lake Michigan on two (2) separate trips, out to the Black Hills, South Dakota, Grand Teton and Yellowstone in Wyoming, Glacier National Park in Montana, Banff in British Columbia, Canada, Sequoia and Yosemite, California, all over New England states and countless times to Illinois and Wisconsin parks. My father taught me how to build a fire, how to set up a tent, and how to be safe while using an axe. My dad showed me how to be comfortable in nature and not to take it for granted. Always leave better it and cleaner than you found it. There would be times that we would hike out bags of garbage that other careless hikers would leave behind. My dad taught me to respect what God created. ...Talking about fires, there always seemed to be big fires when we camped and because of that, there always was a need for getting "trees" for those fires. One time while we were up in Wisconsin with ten (10) other families camping, we needed some big logs to cook a sixty (60) pound pig for a cookout. Well, there was this very old and tall dead tree, when I mean tall, at least eighty to hundred (80-100) feet tall, all grey and bridle. The men figured the way it would fall that if may explode on impact and some of the wood could possibly injury our fellow campers and their property. There was this one (1) camper whose car was in the line of the tree, so my dad went over to his site and asked him if he could move his car so not to damage it. The man said, "It is insured, don't worry". So, the men took out their chain saws, all three (3) of them, see, when we camped we believed in "big fires". So, the tree came down and just exploded as the predicted and this large piece of branch went flying towards the fellow camper's car, hit right next to it and flew right over the car into their camp site. It was an unbelievable event to watch. In no time at all of us in our group started cutting up the tree and all the children hauled out the logs. The large fire was built and the pig was roasted for many hours. There are many more memorable camping trips, and I could go on for hours about many pleasant memories. ...Our dog Bruiser; he was a Neapolitan mastiff with the biggest almond colored eyes and yeast for having a good time. My dad loved that dog. I can still see him walking with him out in the back forty (40) next to the golf course. They would walk for hours and he loved that dog. Bruiser was a big dog and always enjoyed wrestling, tugging on a rope, chewing on logs, swimming, or knocking down trees. He brought my dad many years of happiness and companionship. When Bruiser was struck and killed by a car in front of our house, it was the first time I really saw my father cry. His death really affected my father for a long time. Later my father got two (2) more Neapolitan Mastiffs, but they were never like Bruiser. ...My dad the carpenter; I learned a lot about my father from how he crafted beautiful homes, furniture and natural creations. He has been a carpenter even since I was born. He always took our family to show the beautiful homes that he built. My father always built custom homes for very reputable contractors and as such his quality showed in his work. When father was a craftsman and always signed his work with pride and precision. Every cut on his saw was straight, every miter was accurate, no gaps of cracks or mismatched wood. He truly was artistic in his appreciation for a good piece of wood. I can remember him making my mother a 100 bottle wine rack in the shape of a large barrel. It was made of oak flooring pieces that he found as scrap on the job sites over the years. The house had the scent of burnt sweet wood and it always made me smile knowing my father was home creating something beautiful. His ability to do quality carpentry gave our family the extra income to enjoy the better things in life because of the extra income. ...I remember another time when I visited my parents in Ridgedale, MO and I attempted to help out around the house. Whenever I would visit I would look for things to do to help out my father so he did not have to do the hard labor in his older years. Well this time I visited in the fall and the wood pile was low on split firewood for the air tight wood burning stove that my parents used to heat up the house. So I went to the tool shed and got out the Monster Maul switch I always enjoyed using. Guess it was a way to take out some angry thoughts on something. So I saw this pile of really old and gray wood, so I set one on top of another large tree stump and attempted to split it. Well, the maul just bounced off of this piece of wood, so I hit it again and again, same thing, nothing. So I got another piece of wood and did the same thing and got the same results. I tried all 20 pieces of wood and all I did is put a tiny dent in each. It was then that my dad came down to the wood shed and saw me with the Monster Maul attempting to split the wood. He said "I just knew you were going to try to help out and split that wood" and I replied, oh? He informed me that the wood was all black walnut and he was aging it before he used a lathe and make salad bowls for my mother. We both laughed our $%^&* off and just walked away. I looked back and all I saw was tiny dents in old logs. ...One time I remember my father helping one of our neighbors put on an addition to their home. They measured everything and put done the sub flooring and when he tore down the old wall to open up the space to the new addition, the two (2) floors did not match and were two (2) inches off. My father was so furious at him self for that mistake. Believe me, those who knew my father, knew of his hot temper. Every time we would go to our neighbors' house, he would get mad all over again. ...Speaking of my father's temper, it would be a lie to say that my father was a perfect man; however his temper and his ability to be angry did cause much stress and fear in my growing up. However, I don’t have ill feeling about that, only sadness that for some reason my father was mad at something else within and some how took it out on me. I believe that my father was a caring and compassionate man and did show that in many other parts of his life. I remember one time that I did something that needed to be disciplined for and my mother told my father to spank my behind. Well, back in those days, spankings were a way of life. So, my dad took me to my room and closed the door. However, on this occasion he felt that my mother was wrong and spanked the bed 10 times and then the final one on my behind. He told me to fake the crying so mother would not know the difference. We always kept that between us and I always remembered that day forever. ...When I was 19 years old I had planned a one month trip out west to go skiing with another boy who was 18 years old. My parents gave me a lot of freedom because I was always responsible. Well, 2 days before leaving on the trip my friend's mother refused to let him go due to his age and inexperience in life. My parents talked to his parents and they were unyielding in allowing us to go together. My father saw that I was heart broken, but still determined to go myself on this trip. Well, my dad said; "son, it is slow at work right now, let's go together on this trip". So, we left the next morning for a 6,600 mile trip that would take us all over the west. Our first stop was in Denver, CO to see a classmate of mine from SHS. Her and I went out to dinner as my father took the van and went out for a dinner and a movie and would meet me back at the sorority house at 10:30 pm. This was a school night and my friend had to get her rest. Well, midnight came, 2:00 am, 4:00 am, 6:00 am and no father. I called the Denver Police Dept and they said that he would have to be missing for 24 hours. Then I said that I want to report my van being stolen and they refused to take the report. Well, at 10:00 am my father pulls up in front of the sorority house. I was so glad and mad all at the same time. What had happened is he parked in front of the wrong address and went to sleep in the back of the van. We laughed and cried about the entire incident. On this trip I skied at Vail, Steamboat Springs, CO and also at Badger Pass, CA. We visited grandma & grandpa Nowicki in Phoenix, AZ. Went to Carmel, Ca to visit friends, stopped off in Las Vegas, NV and many more places. That trip was the best time I ever had with my father and I grew to see the man that I loved and respected. As an adult we never did anything like that ever again, but it was the trip of a lifetime. ...My dad always enjoyed a good scotch, a fine cigar and watching a beautiful sunset. I remember once when our family went on a camping trip around Lake Michigan. I watched my parents walk hand in hand down the beach till they were out of sight. Then an hour later they returned, still hand in hand walking as the sun was setting. My father did love my mother and they completed each others life. ...My dad had a great sense of humor and could always make someone laugh. He just came up with the most obscure thoughts that just had to make you chuckle. He just made the room light up with his presence. Even when he was at his last two (2) weeks of life he made all of his caregivers at the rehab center cry from laughter from some of his sayings and statements. Even when death was knocking on the door he remained a man with a healthy funny bone. ...So, this is a little bit about the man, the son, the father, the husband that Raymond Apollo Nowicki was and how I honor his life today. Till we all meet again, I do miss him. Author Dale Nowicki Please sign The memorial visitors guestbook for Raymond after reading memorial. Thank you.. Footnote: Raymond Nowicki, is the website owner's uncle, brother of her father, Frank Nowicki. |
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