IN remembrance of my Dad, ALLEN J. Dietrich (1947-2024)

Read at his celebration of life service May 24 2025

Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Elise Dietrich, and I am Allen’s oldest child. Thank you for being here to remember him with us. He was a caring and thoughtful man who was full of wonder and curiosity about the world.

Karl Tina and I grew up hearing stories about my dad’s travels, and took them as blueprints for how to engage with the wider world. Although he didn’t travel much as a child, he made for this throughout his adult life. Dad’s first experience abroad was the summer he spent in Finland on an agricultural exchange program, where he was embraced by his host family and experienced the sauna tradition. Following medical school, he worked as a physician on the other side of the world in newly-independent Papua New Guinea. After meeting my mom, they went together to work for the Indian Health Service on the Zuni Reservation in New Mexico, which is where I was born. The individual people he connected with on these sojourns were always central to the stories he would tell.

Eventually having the three of us kids and becoming established here in Hanover didn’t keep him from further adventures. When I was in sixth grade, he and my mom planned a sabbatical and relocated the whole family to Australia for six months. When my siblings and I weren’t attending the local public schools, our family was driving around in the outback and snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef. Already awkward and shy, it made me stand out amongst other kids wherever I went. But it also instilled in me a curiosity about the broader world.

Once I was old enough to go out and live my own global adventures, Dad was one of my greatest supporters. He didn’t bat an eye at my proposals to travel to Spain, India, a semester abroad in Venezuela, probably because he knew I was working on collecting my own stories. When I got a job teaching English in Brazil, dad personally convinced the Brazilian embassy bureaucrats to issue me the proper visa. When he came to visit me there, we planned an ambitious trip that included a 1000 km drive to the world’s biggest waterfall, visits to the English classes I was teaching, and a day at the São Paulo Art Bienal. Along the way we listened to lots of Brazilian music and tried every unusual fruit available, including the caju fruit that gave him a rash for days. Ever the gracious guest, Dad couldn’t say no to the endless rounds of food he was served at Brazilian rodizio all-you-can-eat meals. Dad was not the typical tourist, always showing interest, affection, and respect for the people he met and cultures he traveled in.

Beneath this worldly curiosity, Dad’s first priority was always his interactions with the individuals around him. As my siblings and I grew into adulthood, he took on the role of councilor, and his advice was invaluable to all of us as we navigated choices as adults. I remember many conversations over leisurely dinners, particularly in the years I lived in New Orleans, as good food and good conversations with dad always went hand in hand.

As his dementia developed in later years, it was particularly heartbreaking to watch his ability to communicate and connect with people slowly erode. Losing the dad who always listened, supported me, and gave me great advice, was especially difficult. May we all travel with curiosity, caring, and respect in memory of Allen.