Donald Melvin Helwich

1947 - 2021

Donald Melvin Helwich

January 26, 1947 ~ February 2, 2021

Donald Melvin Helwich, formerly of Murtaugh, passed away quietly on February 2, 2021 at Sunny Ridge Care and Rehabilitation in Nampa. He had just turned 74.

Don was born January 26, 1947 to Melvin and Helen (Farrell) Helwich in Boise. He was raised on the family farm in the King Hill area and attended high school in Glenns Ferry, where he participated in football, basketball, and track.

Upon graduation, Don attended the University of Idaho where he studied agriculture and forestry and worked on fire crews for the U.S. Forest Service during the summer breaks. While at U of I, Don met his future wife Mary Brune and the two married in Twin Falls, Idaho on June 5, 1968.

The couple spent a memorable summer staffing a Forest Service fire lookout station in the Boise National Forest before moving down to the Magic Valley to be closer to Mary's family. Don worked for several farmers in the Twin Falls area before eventually settling in the Milner area. There, he farmed with his in-laws until 1992. He then spent the next twenty years working full time for the Amalgamated Sugar Company as a machinist, before finally retiring in 2013 and moving to the Caldwell area in 2015 to be closer to his children.

A few weeks before his passing, Don told his son that, along with his fifty-two years of marriage, he was most proud of his four kids and the adults they had become. His children know that he had a lot to do with their success.

Don helped instill within his kids a love of learning. He was an enthusiastic reader of stories, especially ones about big brown bears and beautiful baboons blowing bubbles and biking backwards, pale green pants with nobody inside them, and how you should never tease a weasel 'cause teasing isn't nice. Then he spent years as an enthusiastic listener, first as his kids read him those same books, then later when they told him about what they had gotten up to do during school or Scouts or 4-H. Finally, as they got older, he listened-probably with a lot less enthusiasm-as they told him how the world really worked and why their political and philosophical views were superior. He only occasionally told them they were full of crap.

While their mother taught the kids manners and decorum and how to behave in polite society, Don taught them other, equally important things-like how flatulence was a part of life and should either be embraced or blamed on the dog or the kids or the legendary California Barking Spider. He also taught them hospitality, demonstrating how to treat visitors: offer them coffee or iced tea, dig up and dust off another lawn chair, and the art of listening more than speaking. It didn't matter if it was the neighborhood kids there for a 4-H meeting, an itinerate friend brought home from college for a weekend, or a prospective future in-law. Don did his best to make sure they felt welcome in the shade of the cottonwood trees surrounding the Milner house.

He taught his children the value of ingenuity and making do with what you've got. Whether it was converting old chicken wire into carrying cages for 4-H rabbits, fashioning rocket launch pads from de-fluxed welding rods and coffee cans, or building a functional (although really, really heavy) cart out of welded T-posts and plywood so his daughters had something on which to haul tubs of debate evidence, he was creative and found novel solutions. Few people would have managed, like he did, to keep an avocado green washing machine running for thirty years, using scavenged parts, spit, and bailing wire, while simultaneously teaching his kids a colorful, evocative vocabulary that would serve them all their lives.

Don taught his kids that it was important to have the right tools for the job, even if you had to spend 45 minutes finding those tools (whether it his only set of Torx screwdrivers that had been borrowed to double as improvised leather stamps and then tossed in the craft box, or that old hammer, passed down from his grandfather, that had been appropriated by an amateur geologist bent on learning the secrets to be found inside a hunk of obsidian and then left to rust on the rock pile in the rain). Then, when the tool was too rusty or too misplaced, he taught how to make do with what you had and get the job done anyway.

He taught that there was a time and a place for everything, and the time for sharing off-colored jokes and questionable limericks was when Mom was in the store and everyone else was waiting in the car, NOT on the way to church. He taught his kids to stand up to bullies, and to speak out when things weren't right, because sometimes being fair was more important than being popular.

Don demonstrated to his kids that creativity was important, and when you want to sing, it is not important that you know all the words. Rather, it is best to sing loud, try to keep the meter and tune, and improvise the lyrics 'cause yours are probably better and can fit any situation, and besides, the dog doesn't know the original song anyway.

Don showed his kids that even though life was hard and you didn't always get what you wanted, so long as the peanut butter held out, everything would be alright.

Don loved the outdoors and grew up hunting and fishing. He tried to instill a similar passion in his children and, when it came to hunting, failed miserably. He did, however, teach them the fine art of angling. He would pack the kids and gear and food in the car and head off to one of his many fishing holes scattered throughout the Valley, stopping only long enough to pick up worms and cold pop. Upon arrival, the kids, gear, and food would be unloaded, the hooks would be baited, and the lines would be cast. A gentle breeze would ripple across the otherwise calm water and finally, the eternal contest of man versus fish would begin. Then reality would hit and the bulk of the day would be spent re-baiting hooks, untangling lines, fighting snagged willows, digging barbs out of fingers, and stopping impromptu fencing matches. Only late in the day when the kids had fallen asleep and/or pulled out the ubiquitous books could he sneak off and catch the two fish they hadn't scared off.

He taught his kids accountability and a love of animals. Despite his gruff exterior and his insistence that no matter what the kids did, said, or promised, they were not going to get another darned dog (or cat or rabbit or pony or lost little bird), when that darned dog stayed anyway, he made sure it was, fed, watered, and loved, and when he got home from an evening of checking water on the farm or a long shift at the factory, he would sit down, pull his off his boots, and spend the next five minutes petting the dog and asking how its day had gone. He also taught that dogs are excellent judges of character, and one should never trust a person if a dog doesn't trust them. Finally, compassion for God's creatures was a responsibility and a duty, and loving them through the end sometimes means doing something hard.

Don taught his kids the importance of sharing what you have with those around you (unless it was burnt almond fudge ice cream, and that was his, darnit) and even though there is nothing, absolutely nothing as good as a King Hill watermelon, fresh picked corn (Golden Jubilee, of course, and not any of these newfangled varieties) and vine ripened cantaloupe straight from garden are pretty danged tasty and need to be shared with those less fortunate. So, when planting the garden, be sure to put in extra rows.

Throughout his life, Don struggled with bi-polar disorder and the chaos and heartache it causes. This also taught his kids a lot of important things about the world and the other people in it. People can screw things up and really disappoint you. They can make snap decisions about other people based on limited evidence or experience. They are quick to judge. There is such a thing as bad ideas, and the road to hell is paved as much with them as good intentions. But it also taught them good things: people deserve a second chance, and sometimes, even if they don't deserve it, need a third or fourth chance. There ARE some kind, supportive people out there. It is okay to ask for and accept help. The sound of an accordion is not necessarily the sign of an approaching apocalypse. Forgiveness can be hard, but not impossible. Holding a grudge hinders healing, and it hurts you more than the person you are holding the grudge against. And in the end, the good you do and the love you give outweighs the bad.

Don is survived by his wife Mary, his son and daughter-in-law David and Amy Cram Helwich, son Mark Helwich, daughter and son-in-law Rachel and Andrew Hemond, and daughter and son-in-law Sarah and Jeremy Hoover, as well as grandchildren Gabriel and Madeleine Cram Helwich and step grandson Nicholas Hoover.

He was preceded in death by his parents and an elder brother Terry.

A celebration of life will be announced at a future date. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests a donation to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (nami.org) or your local animal shelter.