Germain Dwight Messerschmidt

Germain Dwight Messerschmidt

July 31, 1936 – December 15, 2025

Beloved husband, father, firefighter, pastor, and friend

He was born on a Friday near Sleepy Eye, Minnesota, a place whose name always felt a little ironic for a boy who would grow up loving motion, engines, and things that moved fast. During World War II, he traveled with his parents to California, where they worked in the aircraft industry. It was there, early on, that he revealed what would become his lifelong gift: an instinctive understanding of how things worked.

From the beginning, he was mechanical. Not learned-known. He could take something apart, see its logic, and put it back together better than before. As a young man, that love translated into motorcycles, speed, and a fair amount of fearless enthusiasm. Once, after a particularly spirited phase, his own father took him to court to plead his case before a judge. It became a family story-one told with equal parts disbelief and affection.

He worked as a mechanic and never lost his love of fast things. Along the way, he even worked on a car for famed custom car designer Von Dutch, a detail he never bragged about but quietly enjoyed. That same skill became a gift to his family. Over the years, he rebuilt cars for each of his children-never as a grand gesture, but as a quiet act of love, the way he knew best how to give it.

Everything shifted when he met Shirley. With her came love, purpose, and a steadying influence. He set aside the fast life and joined the U.S. Army, serving from August 1, 1957, until 1960. He was stationed in the Marshall Islands, where he witnessed multiple nuclear tests-an experience that left a lasting mark. He later asked for a full color guard at his graveside, a request made with pride and respect for his service.

After returning home, he began a 33-year career with the Los Angeles City Fire Department, serving from 1963 until his retirement in 1996. With over 7000 applicants, he tested in the top ten. He worked as an Apparatus Operator, driving the massive hook-and-ladder trucks and safely carrying his fellow firefighters and station captains through countless calls. His final station was Station 96 in Chatsworth, California. It was work he took seriously, quietly, and with deep responsibility-for the equipment, for the men beside him, and for the people they served.

Together, he and Shirley raised four children: Marianne, Michael, Steven, and Nancy. He was a steady presence-a provider, a fixer, a man whose love showed itself through action.

In the late 1960s, another turning point arrived when he discovered a deep and lasting relationship with Jesus. His faith became the foundation of his life. He opened his home and his heart, sharing God's love with those who needed it most. After retiring from the fire department, he and Shirley became ordained pastors with the Foursquare Church, serving together for 25 years. They visited prisons, rest homes, juvenile centers, and hospitals-offering prayer, comfort, and hope to people often overlooked. He believed deeply in meeting others where they were, with humility and compassion.

Despite all he had done, he lived quietly. To friends, he was simply known as Bud-a name that suited him well. He enjoyed car shows, stayed fiercely loyal to Jeopardy, and loved having his family visit. He cared for his home, his garden, and his pool with the same pride he brought to everything else. Even at 89, he could still fix just about anything-and when he did, you knew it was done right.

He was soft-spoken, steady, and fond of a clever joke. A man of faith. A firefighter. A mechanic at heart. A husband, father, and servant to others.

He will be deeply missed-and forever remembered for the way he built things, fixed things, protected people, and quietly lived a life of purpose.