John Clinton Schmalfeldt (1953-2008)

The Eagles Club, some tasty bourbon, and my older brother Jack.  It was all good.

When we were kids, one was left with the feeling that Jack didn’t really have that much time for his younger brothers and sisters.  And we understood that.  Jack was the height of hipness.  Even now, they speak of him in hushed tones in the little town of Center, North Dakota where we moved in 1970.  He and Cindi were personally blamed for introducing the illicit weed to the yokels.  And all hell broke loose.

Jack married well.  His wife Kerri and he produced two kids, John and Rosie.  When Granny died, Jack took possession of the family homestead on Roosevelt Street in Clinton.

He was a blues man.  He was an artist.  He loved his family, his father, his mother, his brothers and sisters.  He would do anything for them.

In late 2007, he found out he had lung cancer.  Mesothelioma.  It claimed him in the late hours of January 4, 2008.  My birthday.  Gail and I raced across the country from Maryland to Iowa and were able to see Jack in his hospice bed hours before he passed.

Jack and Uncle Bob, 2004

Jack worked with me on a manuscript that now exists as the novel, “Hunky Dunk.”

I miss him every day.

At "Schmalfest" in Mom's back yard in 1994. The last time all seven of her kids were in one place.


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