Worth Warren Conru

October 9, 1934 - January 16, 2021

We all used to wake up early in late August as it got hot soon in the day. 85, 90 degrees by 7:00 am would be normal, and it would be super humid. Dad however, would’ve been up and out the door long before 5:00 am as it was squirrel season. He loved the solitude and quiet of the dawn, with the sun just breaking through the trees, listening to the waking sounds of the forest. The caw of crows, the incessant hum of cicadas, the far off drill of a woodpecker. The forest at dawn was his home and his alone, and he was happiest when he was it. He generally hunted in stands of oak for squirrels and would remain still, scanning the treetops for signs of life. His patience and skill would invariably be rewarded as he knew how to spot the slightest furry bit of his quarry hiding behind a branch or trunk, and his call and aim were both unfailing. Shortly after we were up, the backdoor would open and Dad would come in with two or three of the prizes and would set to skinning and cleaning so Mom could make a delicious stew for dinner. Dad would either then start the day heading to the mill, or if he was off, to tend to some home farm chore. The mill for Dad created his routine which he followed all his working life. He was the first person they hired at Bethlehem Steel, when they opened its Burns Harbor facility in the 1960’s, and Dad enjoyed his status as the most senior man in the plant. The mill was just down the road from his home and Dad worked one or two of the three shifts, days 7am to 3pm, three to eleven’s and midnights - the shift that started at 11pm and lasted to the following 7am. While after many years, the plate mill routine became just that - a routine of hanging out in the pulpits and keeping an eye on things - on rare occasions - for me there were two of them - he snuck me and my guest into the factory itself after midnight, and we got to see a red Dante’s Inferno in action. I will remember the constant hum of the rollers, the sound of molten steel hissing along the water cooled belts, and the hammering of the cutters that determined the length of the coils. The steel was bright orange, flaming almost, and the heat and the action was constant. Never ending. Those experiences were amazing to me, and I was incredibly proud of my Dad for being in charge of it all. I’ll cherish those memories, and hundreds of other till the end of time. Worth Conru was born on October 9, 1934 to Harold and Alma Conru. I don’t know why that name was chosen or even what it meant. I knew there was a village in South Chicago with that name as it’s declared on the water tower by the side of the expressway. I did just now look up the meaning of “Worth” and it comes from the Old English name for ‘enclosure or homestead’. Considering the Dad never lived much further than about five miles from where he grew up, the name is quite appropriate. He had three sisters, Carmen, Connie and Donna and a brother, Ward. Connie and Donna are still with us, Ward passed a while ago, and Carmen, last year. The five kids grew up on their own with Harold away driving trucks, and from all accounts it wasn’t easy. Carmen, being the oldest, helped look after things, and Dad and Ward spent as much time as possible hunting and playing in the woods. They grew up in Furnessville, a small village in the Dunes, and Dad later returned to live there and then in nearby Pines. He joined the army in the latter days of the Korean War and was sent to Korea as things were winding down. He joined the division that was charged with looking after government real estate, and the travel that it entailed allowed Dad the time and places to do a bit of pheasant hunting. For him, the was wasn’t too bad. Upon returning to Indiana, he met a beautiful young woman who swept him off his feet, and he and Reva Joyce Delco were married shortly thereafter on March 21, 1959. They had three children, Kevin, Susan and Andrew, and I had the good fortune of being born on his birthday. For better or worse, it was a present he’d always remember! I had two sons, Max and Theodore, and Susan with her husband, Andy Fazekas, gave him three granddaughters - Lauren, Ashley and Samantha. They’re all of similar age and spent every summer together in Indiana, the boys mostly staying with their grandparents. Reva is the matriarch of the family, and her kindness and love for us all has no bounds. Dad loved the outdoors and traveled often to Canada or Nebraska for his many hunting and fishing trips. He loved working at his farm and land and enjoyed nothing more than puttering around down in the barn. He loved his friends and family - he was ‘The Groove Master’ - and reveled in large dinners and parties where everybody was made incredibly welcome. He survived a number of health scares and his will to live proved stronger than adversity. Time, however, is on no man’s side, and he is now at peace with his Lord and Savior. It goes without saying, we’re all gonna miss him, terribly, terribly much. Visitation will be on Wednesday, January 20, 2021 from 3pm until 7pm at Edmonds & Evans Funeral Home, 517 Broadway, Chesterton, IN 46304. Funeral services will be held at 11am on Thursday, January 21, 2021 at St. Paul Lutheran Church, 106 E. 1100 N., Chesterton, IN 46304 with Pastor Erich Fickel officiating. Visitation be also held an hour prior to the service at the church. Burial will follow at Chesterton Cemetery. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, a maximum of 25 people will be able to gather at the funeral home and masks will be required as well as social distancing at 6 feet.