Ivars John Mise Obituary
My sisters and I once had a conversation about what words we would use to describe our dad to someone who never met him…we deliberated…strong, stubborn, eccentric, mischievous, mastermind, resilient, adventours? None of them truly captured who he was. That's when Elizabeth said, “There are no words for dad, dad is an experience”, and I can’t think of a more perfect way to put it. He was an experience to all who knew him. I am sure everyone here can think of at least one experience you’ve had with my dad….whether it be good, bad, or questionable.
He himself lived through countless experiences, starting on October 27th 1937 in Riga, Latvia. He was born to Peter and Elizabeth Mise, a bank president and diplomat. Later welcoming his younger brother, Alfred. Before his privileged life ever really began, it was shattered by WW2. My dad and his family had to flee to Berlin to avoid Nazi invasion. In Berlin he lived through devastation and sorrow. Bombs being thrown down around him. SS soldiers lining the streets. Being sent out as a small child with a white surrender flag tied around his arm just so he could buy milk and bread. As my dad has said, “I had the silver spoon ripped out of my mouth and they shoved in a wooden one with splinters.”
At 9 years old they left Berlin for Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Just him, his mother, and his brother. His father came to Brooklyn years later after the war, but unfortunately died soon after, leaving my dad to be the provider. They had no money and didn’t speak the language, but that didn’t stop my dad. That fueled him. He made sure his mother and brother had a roof over their heads, food on the table, and clothes on their backs. He made sure Alfred got the best education he could.
As a young adult he met his lovely first wife, Carole, and they raised my beautiful sisters, Elizabeth and Katrina. They left New York and came to the suburbs of New Jersey.
When the chapter of his first marriage closed, a new one opened with my mom, Margherite. They traveled the world and built a legacy together.
I think the five of us can agree he may not have been the most conventional husband or father, but he was irreplaceable.
If you knew my dad at all you know there was always an angle, always a scheme, always an opportunity to learn, to grow, and most importantly make money. This is something we often mocked. I see now that that was never something to be mocked. That was born of trauma and fear and love of his family. He worked every angle, concocted every scheme, and grabbed every opportunity to make sure that his family then, and his family now could have everything.
There are no words to describe how much he will be missed and nothing that could ever fill the hole now in our hearts and our family, but on days when it’s particularly hard I know I can find his strength and ambition in Elizabeth, his love of his family and faith in Katrina, his quick-wit and logic in myself, and his hard work, sacrifice, and legacy in everything I have.
This is where dad would tell me, “that was some real grimms brothers fairytale writing”, to which I say, Dad, you were something to write home about.
