Finis
A voice is now silent. We will no longer read his editorials in the paper or drive by his house to view the signs in his yard that either stirred our consciences or made us angry.
Peter Karlin, after a lifetime of struggles with a debilitating disease is finally at rest. From his youth he slowly lost the control of his body, until, in the end he had only his mind and his voice. And what a voice it was! Loud, strident, at times demanding, he would lash out angrily at what he saw as unjust in society in general and Beloit in particular. His brother, Fred, once said that Pete didn’t ever have an opinion that he did not express! Much of the time people disagreed with him and his causes, but he never lost the courage of his convictions or backed down in the face of an adversary. Tact and diplomacy were not his style. He called things as he saw them.
Pete’s home was open to all…his family, the homeless, those down on their luck, and those with any special need. He was the only person I knew who would borrow money so he could give it away. He took the words of Christ seriously, and saw Christ in “the least of his brethren”.
Pete’s hospitality was felt by anyone who came to his door. A person rarely left without a loaf of freshly baked bread, frosted buns, or one of his culinary concoctions. He loved to make up recipes and share the results of his cooking, which he could not have done without his trusty friend Robert Hayden. However I usually felt I was better off not knowing the various combinations of ingredients.
His nieces and nephews loved Pete. He kept treats for them in his freezer and gave the little ones whirly rides in his motorized chair whenever someone would put one of them in his lap. His family was everything to him.
The Pete Karlin most of Beloit knew was a voice crying in the wilderness and not many were fond of hearing it. I wish they could have learned to know the soft and gentle man he became when he finally accepted the fact that he could not save the world, nor could he live alone any longer. I cried the day he told me, “Nadine, I can’t do it any more. I’m afraid to be alone in my house.” His spirit was broken. He’d fallen from his chair, and was on the floor for more than ten hours before someone came by and got help for him.
The Beloit EMT’s knew Pete well, having come so many times to pick him up from the floor. They told family members that he should not be allowed to live alone. We tried, but he had to face the truth of the matter on his own, and even after he’d chosen Hilltop as the best place for him to live, when his brother came to take him to Hilltop, he begged to delay the move for a few more months.
At Hilltop Pete lost the urge fight against the inevitable, but his spirit was not crushed. It was there that I saw the man he would have been without the frustration of his inability to meet his physical needs and trapped in a body that would not, could not cooperate. He finally accepted the fact that he needed access to round the clock care, and he was content to be there. The staff at Hilltop loved him and teased him, and he gave back as good as he got!
On May 10, 2011 this vibrant, challenging man slipped a way from us quietly without a struggle. We loved him, we hated him, were challenged by him, and admired him for his courage, but no one was ever indifferent. The theme song of his life could well have been, “I Did it My Way”,
Go with God, Pete. Be at peace. Heaven will never be the same once you arrive!
-- Nadine Karlin
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Fred, I wrote this because you were not here to do it. Despite all his crustiness, no matter how many times he “fired” you, he loved you very much. In losing him, I’ve lost you all over again.
