What Makes a Man One of a Kind?

I have a simple question to ask. What makes a man one of a kind?

In the case of my father, it started very very early in life with his name. Veon... DuWayne... Gurss. Now that is one of a kind. What the heck were his parents thinking? Yet, it stood out – it was unique and memorable. It could confuse people, so many just called him “Gurss.”  And we got a lot of great mail at our house addressed to Vern… Leon… and the most memorable, a single piece of junk mail addressed to…  Peon.

In lieu of flowers, we have asked for donations to the Camp Wood YMCA. Dad often spoke of his love for attending Camp Wood as a child. It was his great escape, and he had to sell magazines door-to-door to earn the few dollars it cost to attend the camp. Perhaps that was when a salesman was born. For many years, he donated funds to help the camp survive so kids could continue to enjoy what he so treasured. However, it was only in recent years when Dad produced a letter, written in 1952 by an official at Camp Wood, addressed to his mom.

“Dear Mrs. Gurss,” it began… “We regret to inform you that Veon is being sent home early from Camp Wood. He has not proven himself to be the type of camper we want. It seems he delights in catching snakes and scaring all of the other children with “shady” stories. And his vile language is unacceptable. We look forward to your reply as soon as possible!”

What makes a person one of kind? It’s the things they do for the people they love. When he was dating my mom, he would walk three-and-a-half miles across Topeka from his house to hers, arriving with icicles hanging from his eyebrows while wearing his thin, James Dean-style jacket. And it’s the tears he shed when I was introduced to speak at the graduation ceremony of my former high school. 

Speaking of high school, he didn’t excel in spelling but he did excel in athletics at Topeka High School. Number 22 on the football team, he led the city in rushing as a halfback, and he was an excellent pole-vaulter and diver.

What makes a person unique? It’s in their language and speech patterns. Dad had his own language at times. If you want to wash your hands, you do that in the “zink.” He loved Mexican food – especially “flajitas.” He loved what he called bullshit movies, but he never really understood the appeal of the show “Steinfeld.” And he always had to wear clothes - from the hat to the shoes that were color-keyed, so he loved wearing casual shirts from the fine folks at “Izog.”

He was a car salesman, and if you wanted a fine Japanese model, he was always happy to sell you a “Saburu” or better yet, a “Tie-ota.”

Which bring us to the prominent legacy of Gurss Motors – a car lot he founded in Topeka in 1964. 2009 would have been his 45th year in business, and he sold more than 33,000 vehicles in that time. Every year, he’d say “this is the year I cut back,” and every year he would continue working six days a week. As tragic as his passing is to all of us here, he would not have been a good retired person. He loved what he did, and not many can claim that.

His influence is shown in the turnout today. He was a mentor to many successful businessmen who began their careers working for and learning from him, myself included.

He was unique as a used car salesman. He was great at teaching his employees to find “common ground” with the customer. Yet, he was a very private, solitary and shy man – nothing like the cartoon cliché of a used car salesman.

He did have friends, don’t get me wrong. His group of friends call themselves “The Bogey Boys,” which doesn’t reflect their love of Humphrey Bogart, but rather their skills - or lack thereof - on the golf course.

He was also frugal. Frugal like a Walmart shopper at 5am on Black Friday. He loved TJ Maxx on Thursdays – because that’s when the new el-cheapo stuff came in. But, for his family and the people he loved, he worked tirelessly to provide all of the things we could ever need or want. And, he’d spend countless dollars on bird feeders and bird feed for the entire avian population of northeast Kansas and then watch them for hours out of the back windows of the house.

He was as stubborn. Stubborn like trying to walk an old farm mule down a spiral staircase. Right to the very end he has his little bitty canine buddy, Tyke, by his side.

This shy, stubborn man loved a good joke – especially when he could inexplicably jam his thumbprint into any fresh, uneaten cake or when the punch line was a surprise. For example, a fellow car salesman often teased him about his wardrobe. The salesman would jokingly ask if he bought his clothes at Topeka Tent and Awning. The joke went further when my dad received a bogus phone message -- supposedly from someone at Topeka Tent and Awning. Picking up the phone to call back, the joke took a turn when dad began talking to the man who answered, a man who a short time later arrived at the lot and actually bought a car.  Now THAT is turning a joke inside out.

In the past few days, I wondered how such a creative soul didn’t seem to have other hobbies to put that soul to full use or enjoyment. But, I soon realized there is a very good reason his eye glasses still have small flecks of paint chips on them today: he loved tinkering with cars – touching up the paint on an old jalopy to make it just right. Or picking the right wheels or the right pin-striping to make an ordinary car a one of a kind – a unique ride. This was a man who in his younger days would wash his own car once a day and would wax it using only two fingers to make sure it shined like no other car on the road. That was his art. That was his fun. That was his creativity.

He was one of a kind because of all of the people he touched and influenced – and we all loved him because, just like his cars, he shined like no other. Even with paint on his eyeglasses.

Thanks for everything, dad. When I get home, I think I’ll wash my car.