By Nick Reiher

You could not help but have a good time with Dick Smerz.

The man who could tell a story like few others, passed away recently at age 94. I hadn’t seen him in a while, although those close to him said he would be out and about now and then with Lillian, his beloved wife of 70 years.

I mentioned to several in the office I would love to have another of his finely crafted birdfeeders like the one he gave me a few years back. I didn’t expect him to make one now; I just wondered if he had any extras lying around.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise his bird feeder was built with quality. The latter-day farmer actually started out as a Chicago kid pushed into carpentry by his Dad. As a union laborer, he would work on the rebuilding of McCormick Place and the Deep Tunnel project.

Before that, though, he served in the Navy during the Korean War. He was stationed on a carrier the enemy used for regular target practice. He saw too many of his shipmates killed.

Last year, he and others were honored with the first batch of commemorative banners in Manhattan, honoring those who served their country, a surprise from his family for his 93rd birthday.

Dick told me a lot of these stories as we shared a cart for several years in the Young Farmers Golf for Ag Education outing. For the first couple years, he would take a swing or two off the tee, or on the approach shots.

For the last few years, he was entrusted with the putting, using his favorite old flat iron. More often than not, he saved us a stroke or two.

In between, he would share observances and stories in his slow, measured voice. Stopping now and then to put on a wry smile.

One of the funniest was of him as a student at JJC giving his teacher — the late, great Bill Johnson – a hard time on a particular issue. I loved that one, no matter how many times he told it. I bet they’re giving each other hell in Heaven.

I really enjoyed seeing him with Lillian, which was just about any time other than the golf course. You could tell their devotion to each other deepened every day of those 70 years.

I’m sure Lillian, then, wasn’t worried too much about him hugging other women, which he encouraged often when he met one:

“Have you hugged a farmer today,” was, of course, his famous catchphrase. I don’t know if “Have you hugged a carpenter today,” would have carried the same charm. But, hey, maybe that’s why he followed a longtime dream of becoming a farmer after retiring in his 60s.

Once, I was lucky enough to work with him for a few hours in the Will County Farm Bureau tent at the County Fair. We were toward the end of the route in the tent, so I would scout to see what prospective hugs he had lined up.

Being a journalist, I was used to being hugged with hands around the throat, mostly figuratively. But being next to Dick as he uttered his famous line, I actually got a few nice hugs, too.

I ignored the great possibility they thought I was a farmer, too, and not a journalist.

As it turns out, our other partner in those great golf outings – my friend and bonus brother, Brent Hassert – passed away last year. Golf has been becoming less and less fun.

But Dick gave us all so many great memories with his friendship. I’ll hang on to those.

Nick Reiher is editor of Farmers Weekly Review.