Ronald Benz
Age - 84
November 29, 2023
Ronald Ritchie Benz, 84, Indianapolis, IN, passed away into the arms of Heaven on November 27, 2023. He was born on January 8, 1939 in Cincinnati, Ohio where his parents were caretakers for the United Methodist Children's Home. Ron survived by his three children -- Tim Benz (Ruth Benz), April Benz, and Tara Benz-Moy (Edward Moy), and his two siblings -- Phyllis Hollis and Donald Benz. Ron was preceded in death in Oct. 2023 by his loving wife of 62 years, Sarah Benz. He doted on, joked with, and crafted wooden games of yesteryear for his three grandchildren -- Matthias, Ellis, and Clara, step grandchildren -- Allyson and Kara, one great-grandchild -- Hazel, and six step great-grands. Sarah's funeral will be held jointly with that of Ronald R. Benz. The funeral service will be held Friday, December 8, 2023 at 11:30 a. m. with a visitation on Thursday, December 7, 2023 from 4 to 8 p. m. at G. H. Herrmann Funeral Home, 5141 Madison Avenue, Indianapolis, Indiana. Please see full obituary at www. ghherrmann. com. Memorial contributions may be made to the American Lung Association in Ron's name. If you would like to send flowers, the family is using McNamara as their preferred florist. Throughout his life, Ron wanted to help people in whatever ways he could. Even as cancer stole his breath, he joked about the bristleless toothbrush the nurse handed him in hospital and the "thing that people had lost for a long time, but finally found" -- a picture he'd found off the internet of a needle in a haystack. "The person's demeanor changes," he'd grin with childish mischief after delivering his jokes. "They come in all serious with no expression [on their lips], but then I show them this, and they warm up. " In his last days, he expressed the wish that he could have helped more people in his life, but while he may have felt that way, the fatherless boys and men that looked to him for mentorship, the man that owes his left leg to a thrifted treadmill Ron helped locate, and the host of neighbors, friends, and family who benefited from his homemade bread, cookies, free snow removal services, and care would probably say he helped plenty. He befriended people with simple gestures and kept going back to remind them they were seen and loved. When he was about three, Ron's parents moved the family back to their hometown of Marengo, Indiana. It was there that he first learned the joy he could bring to himself and others through service. He woke up at 5 a. m. to help his Daddy milk the cows, helped make hay and keep a large garden, and was even lowered twenty-two feet to clean the bottom of the family well with a rope tied under his armpits because he "was little, and the only one who could do it. " When he wasn't helping out on the farm, Ron loved to roam it; for him, a good roam was wandering down by the woods looking for squirrels. In that quiet, he listened for a nut to drop, for the rattling of leaves as the squirrels jumped from limb to limb, or for them to chatter in tiny voices at him. In those moments, he cultivated his love for calm quiet and his legendary patience. Ron enjoyed shooting his Red Ryder BB gun; when he was around eight, he proudly invented and built a target that would catch his BB's after he shot them. Growing up on the farm, he learned early on not to waste and to fix or make what he needed, and that experimentation was the incubator for his lifelong love of tinkering. Ron had a deep connection to the land, but he also was a keen observer of people; it was in those observations, that he learned the kind of person he wanted to be. When his Mother and Daddy would go into town for groceries, his Daddy would give him ten cents, and he'd go down the road to the pharmacy and read comic books. When it was time to go, he'd pick a comic he hadn't read yet and buy it; for his whole life, he has appreciated that the owner was kind to him and never said anything to him about reading many more comics than he purchased. I'd like to think he kept those comic books his whole life as a reminder of the human warmth and connection that he found in that pharmacy. One time, Ron's baby blue eyes witnessed that his hardworking parents were forced to pay the insurance man with a chicken because they didn't have the money available for the premium. At that time, he vowed to help his future family be more financially stable than his childhood one, so after he graduated from Milltown High School with 21 in his graduating class, he decided to go to college and leave the farm. The only problem was, he didn't know what he wanted to study. At Indiana Central (now University of Indianapolis), he took an aptitude test where he scored much higher in math than any other subject. In his mind, that score decided his future, and so he chose to major in math to become a math teacher. His rural high school did not push academics, so his most recent math class had been a first year algebra class that he took as a freshman in high school. Now a freshman in college and having forgotten much of first year algebra, he struggled that first semester to pass second year algebra. Luckily for him, Professor Sidebottom said Ron could stop by anytime for help, and Ron stopped by often. Mr. Sidebottom saw his pluck and potential and passed him with a 'C' even though he'd earned a 'D. ' Without the help from Mr. Sidebottom, Ron wouldn't have been able to major in math. After that first semester, he continued to study hard to compete with students from more academic backgrounds, and he earned 'A's in his math classes after that. He would later earn a Master's in Math from Northwestern University. He saw his trajectory as a math student to teacher as part of God's guidance, taking him down a path that he could not have imagined or traversed alone. Perhaps it was then that he saw the impact having one person in his corner could do. Perhaps it was then that he began to consider how he could be that person for others. After graduation, he took a teaching job at Warren Central that lasted 49 years; he taught all levels of math, but Algebra II was his favorite to teach. He never told many people about his background because he worried they wouldn't trust him as a teacher, but it was that humble, hardworking background that made him a truly "gentle"man that held kids accountable but encouraged and worked with them to make sure they could succeed. He felt he needed to "try to reach the minds of the students to help them understand the necessary steps to be successful. " A few WCHS students shared with me that he "gifted them" a grade, but when quizzed over that, he furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, "I doubt it. That's not something I did much of. " Instead, he viewed his job was to be in their corner, walking with them and making sure they earned their grades. Thankfully, Ron found more than a love for math at Indiana Central. It was there that he happened to sit next to his future wife, Sarah, during a bonfire at freshman orientation at Indiana Central, and they talked a little. After that, to his surprise (She hardly knew him!), she continued to seek him out for conversation and companionship at weekly chapel. In February of that year, she asked him to a Sadie Hawkins dance -- their first date, where, he "danced a little; [he] didn't know how, but [he] did. " She believed he was an answer to prayer; he knew she showed interest in him and what he liked, communicated with him, and thought he was important to her. In other words, she spoke his love language of being seen and understood, and she saw beauty in his practicality and down-to-earth nature. In this way, the man who was voted "Most Bashful" in his senior year of high school in 1956, let our mother into his heart. He would say that his marriage was part of God's plan too because he would have been too nervous to ask Sarah on a date himself, let alone a date where there was dancing involved!With the engagement ring he chose lost in the mail and reordered, Ron likely proposed without a ring, but of course, Sarah just knew he was meant for her, and they were married after five years of dating. As Ron and Sarah built their life together, he continued to love her with hard work and service. Whenever Sarah asked him to fix a chair or pick tomatoes, he dropped everything and did it right away. His baby blue eyes would lock with hers and speak of love, safety, peace, and a little mischief. He didn't need words to tell her; those steady eyes could say it all. God knew they were perfectly imperfect for each other. From work on the farm and his experiences at college, he became the man that wasn't afraid to try something he hadn't done before and "figure it out. " He built extra rooms onto his house, refinished furniture, and even built his youngest a swinging teeter totter. He was the guy going through your trash this week and calling his neighbors the next to see if they needed a table that he'd replaced a leg on. Ron didn't believe in waste. At least once, he found a squirrel that had been run over by a car, and since it was still fresh because it was warm to the touch, he carted it home and had Sarah cook it for dinner. One of his keys to happiness was "looking for the good in people instead of something you can criticize them about. " He looked for the good in things and people, the salvageable, and the hope. He loved his three kids like he loved his salvaged furniture and tinkering projects; that is to say, he was a calm, fierce protector of imperfect people, and he gave us the best tools he knew of to navigate this broken world. He took us to church every Sunday. He allowed us to hammer in a nail or solder two wires together as he supervised and to help out with his projects; he taught us the joy that comes from creating and making something broken whole. He taught us to get up early on Saturdays for garage sales and how to negotiate the best deals for the most interesting treasures -- a second-hand apple picker or metal detector held the promise of quality adventures spent with people or nature. He taught us how refreshing a quiet evening on the backyard swing can be. He taught us to walk in the woods, to listen for squirrels to drop a nut or chatter at us, and to be quiet and simply be with the world. He taught us how to reach out to people with simple acts of kindness. Most importantly, he taught us to wonder at the beauty and promise of God's world, the people in it, and ourselves. In his retirement years, he continued to live life as he'd always lived it. Working on novel math problems, caring for the squirrels and birds in his backyard that came to feast on corn and bathe old pots, growing a jungle of a garden with produce rivaling those of award-winning crops, puttering around fixing things, turning beautiful wooden bowls, and making a host of children's games from yesteryear. Then, he took those things that he loved and shared them --gifting his creations or introducing the scampering baby squirrels he'd been feeding after their momma passed to his own grandchildren. If he was sitting still, it was because kids or grandkids were visiting and he was watching them with gentle eyes, grinning quietly at their antics, and giving advice in an even voice. Toward the end of his life, so many people surrounded us to help us care for Ron and Sarah. Thank you to Debbie, Alyson, Robin, Liesl, Bev, Nancy, John, and Diana for stepping in to be at the house when we needed extra caregivers for hours at a time. Thank you to Ronnie and Gary for your consistent visits. Community Home Health services supported Ron and his family while he was on hospice. Thank you to Leigh for your steady attention, calm, care, and friendship. Thank you to Rob for your songs and prayers one difficult night. Thank you to Dachelle, Kim, Mike, and Pam for your ongoing care and support and the dignity you brought with you. Thank you to Mia and her kind team at Seals Ambulance Services for going above and beyond to transport Ron to the hospital to see his dying wife in a "we've never seen this situation before" scenario. These people stepped in as friends, strangers, and community members and became the people in Ron's corner; we are grateful for you, and so was he. Ron was a man who found much joy in the everyday and loved so-called ordinary people and things in an extraordinary way. He loved God, and he loved the imperfect with firm belief that if God held him close, he was free and bold to hold others close too. May we all aspire to live how he lived -- looking for the good in each person, helping others, and dancing through life. Even if we don't know how, we can work hard to figure it out.Show more
.png){kind=small}
.png){kind=small}
