Clinton N. “Bud” Prinster

Clinton N. "Bud" Prinster, 101, passed away on Thursday, March 7, 2013, at Villa Theresa Haven. Bud was born in O'Fallon, MO, on October 5, 1911. Bud was the husband of the late Viola (nee Staggemeier) Prinster; father of Kathleen (Henry) Kruse and the late Clinton Prinster Jr.; grandfather to Henry (Jill) Kruse Jr., John Kruse, Matt (Merideth) Kruse, Laura (Ryan) Hahn, Jordan Prinster, and Alex Prinster; great-grandfather to Victoria and Mason Kruse, and Eleanor, Maximilian and Maybelle Hahn. Clinton N. Prinster was many things. A son. A husband. A father. An uncle. A friend. He was Bud. To me, he was Grandpa. My grandfather was a tinkerer. A mister fix-it. In the basement of the little white house on South Gatty, he had a very small but tidy workshop. Pegboard lined with tools. Tiny drawers and glass jars organized even the smallest of hardware. It was meticulous. It was here that he tinkered with things that others discarded – like broken power tools and fishing reels. He was a man of invention. An end table made from a coat rack. A step stool made from an old drawer. An ingenious pecan picker-upper. A dandelion gig that help him rid his yard of the pesky yellow flowers. A whiffle ball that hung on a string from the ceiling in his garage so he knew precisely how far up to pull the Cadillac. He may have been the first man to invent the grapefruit spoon: an ordinary table spoon modified into a fork. It was effective, but somewhat dangerous. He was the original recycler – from washing out bread bags and hanging them to dry, to collecting twist ties. He hung laundry to dry on a line in the basement and carpeted the attic steps with a rainbow selection of carpet samples. Very little went to waste in his house. Everything got repurposed. He drank cold water straight from a pitcher in the fridge. He began and ended each meal with a prayer, followed up with a trip to the lavatory to "clean his chompers." He told great stories about his days of being the town marshal, hunting, and his days at McDonnell Douglass, but was also a wonderful listener. That's rare. He had a wonderful sense of humor. I can still remember sitting in the swing in the front yard and him saying, "What shoe do you always put on last?" It always confused me. "The left one," he'd laugh. "No matter what shoe you put on first, you always end up with the one that's left." He was a prayerful man – and I know for certain one of the things he treasured most about living at Villa Theresa was being able to attend Mass every day. It was a comfort to a man who literally lived in the shadow of this church for most of his life. He was a gentleman from as far back as I can remember. Never a door was not opened for my grandma. He danced with her in their tiny living room to old tunes on an A.M. station as I sat on the davinette and watched in wonder -- so light on his feet. He was a well-dressed proper man… neatly put together with collared shirts. Always armed with a handkerchief, a small pocket knife and a pocket full of change. Two shaves a day with the electric razor. The smell of Aqua Velva aftershave. Early to bed. Early to rise. Fresh air. Long walks in this neighborhood. My grandpa was a patient man – and this patience led to a scrupulous garden void of weeds and gorgeous roses that lined the front walk. It led to cross-stitch needlework so tidy that you couldn't tell the front from the back. In looking at his life, I see a man who lived a life of moderation. He was never one for indulging – be it in food or drink or material things. He bought what he needed, not what he wanted. But honestly, I don't think he wanted a lot. If he needed something and didn't have the money, he saved up for it. What he didn't need to spend, he tucked away. He was forever thankful for what God had blessed him with – never asking for more and always satisfied with what he had. He was a man of a million Pleases and Thank Yous. The last 10 years or so since my grandma died, he spent Christmas eve with our family watching the kids tear open packages and squeal over gifts. I'd ask him, "What do you think about this circus?" He's always say, "I'm just so thankful to be here. So thankful to have such a wonderful family. I am so blessed." He celebrated his 101st Christmas this year. We were blessed. I took my three children to see him last week. He was very weak but he knew us. It took a great deal of energy to speak but I got one last lesson from him: Live life while you can. Live it one day at a time the best you can. Treat others as you would want to be treated, that's what I always say. There are lots of people in this world – well not the world, that's too big for me – but there are people around you who will want to ruin it, take it away from you. But it's none of their business. It's your life. Enjoy every day. Because you never know when it will just end and you won't get the chance. I enjoyed my life. I just tried to do good. No matter when I visited my grandpa, how long I stayed, or how long it had been since I'd last seen him, he'd shower us with gratitude for visiting. And he'd always have the last word: "Come back when you can…" Laura Hahn