Leader of the Band
A tribute to my Dad, John H. "Jack" Jaspers.
Today, December 23, 2024, marks what would have been my Dad’s 99th birthday. We lost him in 2003 at the age of 77. To say that he was a great man is an understatement. A chronicle of his life gives only a small picture of his legacy:
December 23, 1925 - born in Cincinnati, Ohio to John G. and Lillian (Bockhorst) Jaspers
1943 - graduated St. Xavier High School in Cincinnati, joined the U.S. Navy shortly thereafter. Left the Navy in 1946.
May 28, 1949 - married Norma Jean Young, our Mom. They would be together until Dad’s passing in 2003.
Started work at Cincinnati Testing Laboratories (CTL), where he worked on the heatshields for the Mercury capsules - our first steps in manned space flight
April 1964 - moved his family of three boys and a newborn baby girl to Columbus to start work at the Ironsides Resins Compnay. His youngest daughter was born two years later in August 1966.
1990 - retired from Ironsides
May 1, 2003 - passed away at Riverside Hospital, Columbus, with his family around him
I would like to share the tribute I wrote for Dad at the time of his passing:
TRIBUTE TO DAD
Dad was so many things to so many people. To begin to describe all the ways – big and small – that Dad touched the lives of all he met would take hours – even days. Maybe by telling you how he touched the lives of my brothers, Steve and Tom, my sisters, Sue and Debbie, and me, I can begin to pay tribute to him.
Dad paid attention to the small things – helping with school projects (I can remember Dad sitting at the dining room table helping me hash out an essay on some poem for English class), going to our track meets (Debbie said that Dad would go to her all-day track meets) and, our football, basketball, or volleyball games and cheering us on or coaching us, taking us on vacations every year (Chicago, Washington D.C., Boston during the Bicentennial, and especially Cedar Point), the list goes on.
Dad also took care of the big things – always patient – amazingly patient – guiding us, not pushing us with a steady hand, listening to our problems, praising our triumphs, and consoling our defeats.
There were so many "Good Days" with Dad. He had a way of making everyday special. Saturday mornings in the lab at Ironsides created at least one junior scientist.
And there were the ballgames – mostly Reds games, with a few Jets and Clippers games thrown in (even a few hockey games – Tom and I were turning dad into a hockey nut!). The first game at Riverfront, the last game at Riverfront, World Series games. Those games were special enough, but Dad made them extra special. But there was one game in particular – a Spring Training game between the Reds and who knows (?) in 2000. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the brats were great, and it was just Dad and I. For a 41-year old boy like me, days just don't get any better than that (oh yeah – the Reds won that day).
But more than anything else, Dad's kind, gentle and caring soul influenced us all more than we'll ever know. It's no coincidence that five children learned to love in the caring, giving, gentle way that Dad and Mom taught us by their example.
To paraphrase singer/songwriter Dan Fogelberg:
"My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man, I – we are the living legacy of the leader of the band."
Thanks Dad,
You are the best man I will ever know.