Paul Vetterli and I shared the same birthday, but we were only able to spend it together a few times. He lived in Switzerland all his life, while I lived in Canada. It's a little too far to travel for a birthday party. He was born in 1915, so he had 95 birthdays before last Saturday. There will be no more.
Father Vetterli, as I called him, was a gentle man who had lived through some astonishing times. He was born to a well to do family in Switzerland. His father had a transport company and other business interests. Things were going well until Paul's mother died. His father remarried, and his new wife wanted nothing to do with the children of the first marriage, especially once she had a son of her own. Paul was sent to work on farms from the time he was ten years old. He was paid, but all the money was sent back to the step-mother, who was a very good manager of money, and she made sure the family business prospered. Paul never profited from this success, but somehow he remained a kind, warm person, untainted by bitterness.
He was working in a cellulose factory when he met his wife, a daughter of Italian immigrants, just before World War II. They couldn't have been more different in temperament. She was quick of wit and temper, and they argued often. He began working as a trucker, enjoying his long days of peace and quiet on the road. They lived in several small towns around the Bodensee, going where the work was. She continued to work, even when the children were small. They needed every dime she could earn to put food on the table. At one point they lived in an apartment they rented from Paul's father. The strain in the family made it difficult for either Paul or his wife to make the trip to pay his father's wife the monthly rent. They sent the Lonely Potter instead. Even as a child, he had a reputation for being charming, so perhaps they hoped he could charm their way back into the family wealth. It didn't work.
Paul and his wife taught their work ethic to their three children. The Lonely Potter left Switzerland, joining the merchant marine as soon as he legally could. This made him a vagabond in the eyes of the folks back home. It seemed that his relationship with his mother never recovered, and she died disappointed that her golden child hadn't become a banker. Paul, however, loved hearing about his son's adventures, and was absolutely delighted when the Lonely Potter became a rancher. Paul loved animals and the first thing he wanted to know whenever we called him was how the horses were.
We were able to make two trips to Switzerland to see Paul, in 2006 and 2007. He was alert and active. We drove all over Switzerland and Lichtenstein with him as our guide. He remembered every road and village from his days as a trucker. His directions were flawless, although after dark he had to think a little. He wanted to be included in everything we did on those visits, and we didn't get him back to his care home until after midnight on a few occasions. The staff were thrilled. Really. They loved Paul too, and they were happy to see him enjoying himself so much. By 2008, though, we were getting reports that his travelling days were done.
We had been thinking that the time was coming for one last visit, but we waited too long. Paul was playing cards and joking with his friends and family on a Sunday, and died in his sleep the following Friday, from pneumonia. There was nothing that could be done.
He will be missed. Attention is being paid.
Paul Vetterli September 26 1915 to November 5 2010
