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S P O N S O R S      |
My Pap
Hibler Richard DDS.Of Green Tree, 83 went to join his brothers Robert and William on July 15, 2010. After suffering a Stroke on March 18th he spent several weeks in Mercy Hospital, was transferred to Marion Manor nursing home, and then finally to his home where he received the best care from my mother and long time friend Sharonlynn Falcsik. My Dad was a type 1 diabetic since the age of 13 and outlived all of his expected time here on Earth. His life insurance company only gave him till 47, and he lived almost twice that long. He survived many extreme diabetic shocks and comas throughout his entire life. One of his favorite feats of vitality after coming out of one of them was to jump up and to challenge anyone standing there to a quick wrestling match or, calisthenics. Lol! He had so many near death experiences that I’m sure the Grim Reaper and he are old friends…
He kept himself in great shape and walked several miles everyday. He graduated from Mt. Lebanon High School, the University of Pittsburgh, and Pitt Dental School. He also served an internship at Western Penitentiary while opening a practice in the Park building in downtown Pittsburgh. He later relocated his practice to Bridgeville, for 30+ years, retiring in 1996. He also served as Secretary and President of his local branch of the American Dental Association. In addition, my father was a true sportsman and a dedicated conservationist.
He founded, “Old Westmoreland Rifles” in 1947, and was a collector, restorer and expert marksman of antique rifles. He was still able to shoot off hand with deadly accuracy into his late 70’s and was an expert with black powder and various other forms of muzzle loader rifles. As an artisan, he was an artist as well as a Master craftsman, carver, inlayer, and engraver who built guns from scratch and was known throughout the US and Canada. His flintlock rifles were true works of art and form a unique private collection in our family.
As a father he was the best I could imagine. He expected high standards from all of us as children but, always forgave us if we fell short. He was a very kind and gentle human being and even though he had a tough exterior as a born and raised woodsman, he always found room for empathy. An early riser, my Dad was always up at the crack of dawn without fail and never believed in sleeping in. He got up early and worked hard all day and went to bed early, usually by 10 o’clock. He always sang us songs, and made up stories for us as children that sparked our imaginations and developed us into free thinkers as we became adults. All of my talent and imagination were due to his influences as I was growing up, and both of my sisters are talented artists because of him as well.
In his own neighborhood he was known as the “Flower Man”, recognizable by his straw hat with a turkey feather, worn as he made his daily walks through the neighborhood to inspect his neighbors’ gardens. His own yard was a true haven for Pennsylvania wild flowers and contained a treasure trove of rare plants collected over 40 years of flower hunting. However, his hunting dogs were his real prized possessions over the years and were treated just like house pets. I’m sure they’re all with Dad now hunting through some woodsy bottom ready to scare up a grouse, pheasant or rabbit or 2, together in God’s great forest.
He is survived by his beloved wife of 58 years, my mother, Donna Harmon Hibler, his loving children, Eric R Hibler, Kristin L Lazzaris and Laurel Fitzgerald, his grandchildren, William and Jessica Fitzgerald and also brothers Charles and Thomas Hibler. A memorial service will be held at a later date. Internment in Mt. Lebanon cemetery. Family suggests memorial contributions to Family Hospice and Palliative Care, 50 Moffett St., Pittsburgh PA 15234. Arrangements by Beinhauers (412) 531-4000. Please view or add tributes at www.beinhauer.com.
His mother was a published poet and I think this poem is appropriate for his final rest…
Pet Crow Dies
Oh, merry little clown – say “friend”, instead,
A bird earth-bound by well-meant ministries!
Mine never was the right to trap and seize
Your wild heart. See where my desire has led.
I hold your blackness, stroke your sleek bowed head
While life drifts out like down upon the breeze.
Quick, after it, through unfamiliar trees!
You dare fly farther now that you are dead…
Hot tears blot out the pathos in my hands;
I see instead those clipped wings slowly rise,
Those steel-gray eyes trained on their distant goal,
A wild bird paradise of sparkling sands,
Clear pools beneath tall trees, and boundless skies.
I could not bear to think you have no soul.
Once my father found a baby crow abandoned in a nest and climbed 40ft into a tree to rescue it. He brought it home and named it Jack. Naturally Jack was quite a character growing up perfectly in his new home. He was very intelligent and knew my father was on his way home everyday after work just by the car he drove. Jack hung out with passing groups of Crows as they migrated through the area but, he never wanted to leave my fathers love and attention. You could hear him calling, ‘Caw Caw’ as he flew over the hills to race him home. One day Jack stuck his bill in some lead paint and it killed him… Everybody really missed Jack because he was cool, and now I miss my dad because he was cool too .
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