Louis Basler gave his son an important life lesson one day when the two were talking about death.
“He said, ‘It’s hard to hit a moving target,’” Brad Basler said with a laugh. “And my dad really lived that way. He just never stopped being active and busy.”
Mr. Basler died Nov. 1 at age 91 after battling a number of health issues.
He was a longtime assistant postmaster at the Festus Post Office and a proud veteran.
“He would have loved to make it to Veterans Day. That was one of the highlights of his year,” said Brad, 67. “He would go out to Second Baptist Church and have a meal, then go to the Festus High veterans’ celebration. He always wore his World War II veteran hat, driving around in his 1993 Crown Vic.”
Mr. Basler grew up in Festus and went to Sacred Heart School and Festus High School.
“He graduated in 1943 and his grandpa signed the papers so he could enlist in the Navy at 17,” Brad said.
He did basic training in Idaho and was assigned to a hospital ship as a dental technician.
When he returned to the area, Mr. Basler resumed his crosstown courtship (with the late Delores Jane Schneider) where he’d left off.
“My dad would walk across the train trestle to visit my mom in Crystal City,” Brad said. “She told him she’d wait for him. He was discharged in April 1946 and they got married in November 1946.”
They had five children in 13 years. Mr. Basler worked at the Post Office and the couple pinched pennies to provide for their family.
“He got paid every other Friday, and he and Mom would get their coupons together and go shopping,” Brad said. “Food got a little scarce toward the end of the time, but we never went without.”
And there was always plenty of fun to be had for free.
“We never went on real vacations,” Brad said. “But if you could pack a lunch and get there and back in a day, we did it – the Zoo, Johnson Shut-ins, the Jewel Box.”
Everyone chipped in to help.
“Dad was pretty good about making sure we all did our chores,” Brad said. “In 1968, he won a Mustang car in a contest, and he took the money instead, like $2,100. He used it to add onto the house.”
Starting in the early 1950s, Mr. Basler worked a side job, plying skills he’d learned in the military.
“He started working for (local dentist) Ray Weible, who had a little lab in his basement, making dentures and bridgework,” Brad said. “Sometime later, he developed a lab in our house. He’d get off work at the Post Office, grab a bite to eat, and head straight down there. We heard that drill going late into the night many times.”
After their children were grown, the Baslers enjoyed traveling, playing cards and visiting with friends.
“My dad had a group of Post Office retirees he met with; he had two or three people from his high school era,” Brad said. “He was a really social guy.”
Mr. Basler retired from the Postal Service in 1980, but continued working on dental jobs.
“My mom died in 2011, after almost 65 years of marriage, and he went up to a couple of the dentists who came to her wake,” Brad said. “He told them, ‘I still want to work for you.’
“I told him he was making more off his municipal bonds than he ever would doing that, but it took me a while to realize it wasn’t about the money. It was about having purpose, being needed and feeling a sense of worth.
“He made his last dentures in January of this year.”
Mr. Basler took a fall at the Festus Knights of Columbus Hall in late January, and began having neurological symptoms.
“He had a few episodes where he’d just sort of go offline for a short time,” Brad said. “His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing and he couldn’t do anything. It turned out to be atrial fibrillation; his heart wasn’t pumping enough oxygen to his brain.”
He was hospitalized for about a month, and doctors fought to control other symptoms that began to appear.
“He had congestive heart failure, severe cellulitis, gout, heart problems, kidney problems,” his son said. “He was in and out of the hospital nine times.”
The family hired full-time caregivers so Mr. Basler could stay in the home where he’d lived since 1952. During his last hospitalization in late October, he told one of his daughters, “I want to go home.”
He got his wish on Halloween.
“We got him here and my sister said, ‘Dad, we got you home,’” Brad said. “His eyes popped open and he looked around and you could tell he knew he was home. The priest came out late that night and he died the next day.”
Brad said his father loved his wife, his children and his country.
“Dad was hard not to like. If he had an enemy, I never met them,” Brad said.
“He was a good man, tried to set a good example. My father always said there are only three things you need: People who love you, something to look forward to and something worthwhile to do. If you have those, you’re solid. It’s not a complicated formula for happiness.”
“Life Story,” posted each Saturday on Leader Publications’ website, focuses on one individual’s impact on his or her community.