IN MEMORARIUM. CLETUS ROHR. APRIL 27, 2022

My Father, Martin Henry Rohr, was the 11th of 14 children borne to Elmer and Helen Rohr. 

Two of my Father’s elder sisters died at childbirth, and his next eldest brother, Albert, and for whom my own bother +Albert (1989) was named, died in a childhood accident in 1934. 

Of the 11 children who survived to adulthood, there were born sixty children, of which, I am grateful to be one. 

As of yesterday, there were only two surviving children of Elmer and Helen Rohr. 

Today there is one.

Unexpectedly, on this day, April 26, my Father’s next youngest brother, named “Cletus” and whom we 60 grandchildren called “Uncle Cletie,” (except for, of course his three children who called him “Dad”), passed from this world to the next. 

For Catholics, in case the name “Cletus” sounds familiar (and it should) Cletus was the third pope after St. Peter and he is named in the Roman Canon which is required to be said at all Sunday Masses (though this rarely happens):

“In union with the whole Church, we honor Mary, the ever-virgin mother of Jesus Christ our Lord and God. We honor Joseph, her husband, the apostles and martyrs, Peter and Paul, Andrew, [James, John, Thomas, James, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Simon and Jude; we honor Linus, Cletus, Clement and Sixtus…”

I never really knew “Uncle Cletie” until the mid-70’s. My dad had met a Mexican beauty in Southern California while stationed in San Diego during the Korean War and thus SoCal is where I grew up. 

But, as the picture demonstrates, my dad, always made special efforts, and at great expense in those days, to travel from SoCal to Ohio so that we might know our Ohio family.

In the mid 70’s, and even while still in high school, I saved my money from mowing lawns and other kid jobs so I could fly back to Ohio where I would spend my summers for the next decade (and some winters) with my many uncles, aunts, and cousins.

The Ohio Rohr’s were a hard bunch, having been raised by the tough WW1 veteran, +Elmer P. Rohr who carved a living out of the hard Ohio ground for 11 children.

And suffice it to say I learned to cuss and drink at Uncle Elmer’s milk house after a hard day of bailing hay during those long, hot, hard, summer days. (+Uncle Elmer was named after my grandfather.)

But those are stories for another post (including the story about my wife and I being the only other Rohr’s to raise 11 children). During those visits I came to know Uncle Cletie and his family. 

I must say that Uncle Cletie was the only Rohr uncle I never heard a curse word from - an oddity in my family. He was the cleanest, most innocent, caring, loving person I ever knew, in our family or out.

In fact, for years after I last saw him, he continued to call me almost every other week. His calls were always short. He just wanted to tell me that he loved me. 

Amazing. 

About two weeks ago, I was at my mother’s home in California, preparing to go back to Guam. Uncle Cletie called. I was in the middle of some stressful stuff. But I thought (or the Holy Spirit told me) “you never know when it is going to be the last time.”

It was the last time.

I had no idea then that it was going to be the last time. His voice sounded strong and loving as usual. 

I despise the modern trend to place our relatives immediately in heaven upon their death. I won’t get into the theology of that. 

But if there ever was a relative who, immediately upon hearing of his or her death who I knew went straight to heaven, it was Uncle Cletie. 

And as if to confirm that - after hearing of his death - I was thumbing through FB stuff and came across a post that today, the day Uncle Cletie died, April 26, is the Feast of St. Cletus, the third pope after Peter, and the only other person in the whole world I ever knew who bore the same name. 

Pray from me St. Cletus II.