Frank Osterland loved learning, Naperville

Unlike my 85-year-old dad, I haven't acquired the habit of reading the obituaries every day.

With his good nature, my dad adheres to the old saying, "Don't take life too seriously; you'll never get out alive."

For years he has teased his brain with the daily obits. He adds up the ages of every listing on a given day, takes the average and determines if he beats that age. He says his odds get better every day.

Here's my point: if it weren't for e-mail, I'd likely miss the "sad news" of visitations, funeral and memorial services of people I hold dear to me.

Saturday I attended a service for Frank Osterland, 92, who died Jan. 25. While sitting in Wesley United Methodist Church, listening to his family and friends recount their joyful memories of this special individual, it occurred to me it was the first time I'd celebrated such a long, rich life.

I first met Frank about 15 years ago when I was employed as public relations manager at Naper Settlement. The Naperville native had stopped by my office with a collection of stories he'd written about growing up in Naperville, hoping to find a home for them in the museum's archives.

At the time, storage space was at a premium. The Pre-Emption House still was a work in progress, and the museum's curators were not accepting such items from the 20th century.

I saved his story about the old swinging bridge over the DuPage River.

"The old swinging bridge was unique," he wrote. "It would go up, down and sideways. Its surroundings have given way to the Riverwalk. Another bridge south of the Centennial Beach bathhouse has taken its place. In its heyday, it served workers for the Naperville Nurseries when crossing the river between their headquarters on Oswego Road and the properties west of the bathhouse."

I was happy to see that he found a place at the Naperville Sun where his charming childhood memories were published for a couple of years in the mid-1990s.

A few years later, when I began writing this column in the Daily Herald, Frank was among the first readers to respond. Many times he e-mailed on Tuesdays, offering some inspirational tidbit, story about his two daughters or granddaughters or memory about old Naperville that connected to the story I'd told.

One time when I wrote about Community First, a local initiative comprised of a group of volunteers dedicated to finding a cooperative solution for successful redevelopment within established neighborhoods, Frank sent his former address on Jefferson Avenue with directions to check out the McMansion that now stands where his home used to be. I think of him every time I drive by.

Another time during set up for Last Fling 2001, I heard somebody call out as I walked along the Riverwalk. I hadn't seen Frank in several years, but soon I focused on his wave. Frank and his wife, Gertrude, had joined their friends, Audrey and Chuck Bueche, to roll tableware inside napkins for use in the sponsor tent. I remember thinking, "I hope I still want to volunteer when I'm 85!"

In 2002, when our community initiated the "Save Our Doughboy" campaign to restore the sculpture in Burlington Square Park, Frank reminisced, "What's in a name?" He wrote that he'd "browsed though the Internet" to discover the term "Doughboy" dated to the early 1800s, but was never associated with foot soldiers known as "GIs" in World War II.

I always was impressed with Frank's desire for lifelong learning as he mastered the challenges of computers - and his willingness to share his connections and knowledge with me.

Another time when a column appeared on Dec. 7, he e-mailed that it was his birthday. He was born in 1916, 25 years before the attack of Pearl Harbor, an event that led him to enlist in the Navy, where he was commissioned as an ensign in late 1942. His highly decorated service in the Navy also led this soft-spoken man to become an advocate of peace and justice.

For many years, whenever Memorial Day rolled around, Frank visited Mill Street School to talk to the students. He'd reflect on his fond childhood memories at Naper Academy when he said "real veterans" would visit his classroom. "They were grizzled survivors of the Civil War, dressed in the blues of the Grand Army of the Republic," he wrote.

Frank also wrote about looking forward to singing in the church choir (where he shared his perfect pitch, I learned on Saturday), as well as membership in the Y's Men and Women's Club, Knife and Fork Club at White Eagle and the Naperville Writers Group.

In a month when we witnessed many events of historical significance, I'm mindful of how blessed I was to have met Frank Osterland early in my Naperville experience.

After listening to the many heartfelt tributes on Saturday, I hope I remembered I thank him for his service to our country.

I know I will remember that Frank ended every e-mail with "Peace."

Stephanie Penick writes about Naperville on Tuesdays in Neighbor. Contact her at spennydh@aol.com.