OTTO'S EULOGY
Otto was born in De Hague in The Netherlands. He came hurtling into the world on the first of January 1951, making a dramatic entrance by breaking his mother’s coccyx in the process.
In 1956, when he was 5, his parents decided to emigrate to Australia to give him and his brothers Hans and Rudy a better chance in life.
They may have regretted that decision at first as they went directly into a Sydney heatwave, where his first residence was a boiling hot corrugated-iron Nissan hut in Scheyville.
Otto grew up on Blacktown. His first days at school were trying, not just because of the language barrier, but also because his mum insisted on dressing the boys in tight European-style shorts with suspenders, not dissimilar from lederhosen, and they were desperate to wear baggy shorts like the Aussie kids. Imagine the children from The Sound of Music, but in a public school in Doonside in the 1950s.
It turned out not to be a permanent barrier to success. Otto graduated from school with flying colours and attended the University of Sydney where he studied arts and law and graduated with honours. He was admitted as a solicitor and continued to practice until his terminal diagnosis a month ago whereupon he retired.
Otto married Angela in 1978 and his beloved daughter Acacia (whom Elliot and I refer to as sis) was born the next year.
The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with Acacia. Otto and Acacia were like two peas in a pod — the sarcasm, the wit, the endless love of trivia. They had a running competition over who could get in the last sarcastic quip, and I’m not sure either of them ever conceded defeat. Both were headstrong, both determined to forge their own path, often choosing the road less travelled.
Rather than stepping into the legal profession, Acacia inherited the creative Stichter gene, frequently putting it to use at 2am when she’d call on Otto to “help” — or more truthfully, do — her college assignments. Otto was only too happy to oblige, so long as he could make a point or two about structure along the way.
From the very beginning, Otto instilled in Acacia a sense of strength and independence. “Girls can do anything,” he would say, and he made her recite it on cue as soon as she could talk. It was more than just a mantra — it was a truth he lived by and one that shaped Acacia’s confidence, creativity, and determination throughout her life.
For all their banter and sparring, Otto’s love for Acacia was deep and unwavering. He was endlessly proud of her — of the woman she became, the life she built and watching her succeed in everything she put her mind to was one of the great joys of his life. Their bond was fierce, funny, and unbreakable — proof that love can be both stubborn and tender, argumentative yet always rooted in pride and devotion.
We’ll skip over the next bit and fast-forward to 2001 when Otto met my mum Kate, who was living in Canberra at the time. They met at mum’s sister’s birthday party, for which mum had come up to Sydney for the weekend. The next morning Otto asked around for mum’s number. Upon obtaining it, he called her as she was on her way back to Canberra and asked her to return the following weekend for a party. After doing a background check with her sister Roberta (something else Otto passed with flying colours), mum agreed and attended. The week after that, two weeks after they met, Otto visited Canberra and asked mum to marry him. Contrary to traditional understandings of common sense, mum said yes, and 6 weeks later they were married. That was 24 years ago, almost to the day.
Everyone who knows them knows that they were the love of each other’s life.
When Acacia was announcing the news to one of her friends she was asked how long they had been dating. “Oh they skipped that bit” she replied.
Otto impressed Elliot and I immediately upon meeting him. His extensive tattoos, love of Coca Cola and enjoyment of The Simpsons and the rapper Eminem immediately enthralled us.
Having previously vowed not to marry again and having decided he was too old to be a parent, Otto found himself married with two young boys to raise. He transitioned back into fatherhood seamlessly, embracing Elliot and I as his own, and would go on to raise us with boundless love, wisdom and compassionate guidance.
While providing us with appropriate approval and instilling confidence in us, he also guided us with a firm hand and challenged us to operate at the highest standards we could throughout our childhoods and schooling life. As a teenager, one couldn’t get much past Otto. The phrase “don’t bullshit a bullshitter” rang out through our house on more than one occasion. I suspect many of his clients heard that phrase too.
Elliot and I can’t thank Otto enough for the childhood he and mum provided us. He was the best dad we could have asked for and we will forever be grateful to him for that.
The impact that Otto had on Elliot’s and my life is impossible to adequately describe. From little things, like introducing us to various cultural experiences, teaching us to garden and educating us on the importance of the Western film genre, to major aspects of our lives, like encouraging and supporting my own career in law. I would note that he also tried to get Elliot into the law too, but he was sensible enough to escape that pull and embark on a very successful career in engineering (of which Otto was justly proud). Most of the good in our lives has Otto’s fingerprints on it.
As an homage to Otto, Elliot and I got dragon tattoos on our left legs to match his own, after which mum didn’t speak to us for a week. I think Otto was in a bit of trouble for that one too.
His love of trivia had him bring us to trivia nights throughout our childhood (and into adulthood) and culminated in his long-running daily blog Bytes, with which I am sure you are all familiar. Receiving no reward for his efforts other than personal satisfaction, he put countless hours of effort into providing people, including those he’d never met, amusement, entertainment and food for thought.
Otto was a man of broad interests. He was extraordinarily erudite, with a love of literature, poetry and music. His fondness for musical theatre is something which still lives on through Acacia, Elliot and I. And while he had an appreciation for the high-brow, he also appreciated shows like South Park.
Not satisfied with just reading other people’s work, he frequently wrote his own poems, often just for some amusement in the moment. His work ranged from dirty limericks to a poem about his experience at the Lifehouse, which they put on display and I’m told are now turning into bookmarks for their patients.
Otto had a lifelong artistic streak. He was an avid photographer throughout his life (specialising in landscapes and candid shots of people as they were shoving food in their mouths), he tried his hand at a wide variety of other artistic pursuits, from lead lighting to learning the didgeridoo.
Otto was, without exaggeration, the best lawyer that I have ever met. Lawyers aren’t generally known for being personally liked, however this was yet another circumstance in which Otto refused to be typical. So many of his clients considered him to be a close friend, and for good reason. Apart from being a brilliant lawyer, he was tenacious and fought tirelessly for his clients’ interests, he also was a trusted friend and advisor, imparting his wisdom and empathy upon whatever difficulties his clients were going through. He would put as much effort into clients who meant nothing to him financially as he did for the big jobs.
Otto was also deeply loved by his office family. He was a kind employer and a friend and defender to anyone who came to work with him. The fact that many of his staff’s tenure can be measured in decades is testament to that.
Despite his fearsome advocacy and fighting spirit (I would not have enjoyed being at the opposite end of the bar table to him), Otto was, at heart, a gentle man. He truly believed that the pen was mightier than the sword. Having said that, I also wouldn’t have fancied any kind of physical confrontation with him.
So much was in keeping with his guiding philosophy, that he would not miss an opportunity to do an act of kindness where such an opportunity presented itself. He never passed a busker or a beggar without giving them some money or buying them a meal or the like.
Such was his dedication to the law that on occasions when he spent time in hospital he would set up a makeshift desk in the hospital room and have his staff ferry paperwork between the office and the hospital each morning and evening. This practice continued as he was being treated at the Lifehouse in recent years. Otto found the concept of retirement to be strange and inconceivable and often said that he expected to be found at his desk one day. Given the floating offices that he was wont to assemble in the rooms at the Lifehouse, his final moments weren’t that far removed from his wish.
When Otto was diagnosed with cancer 4 years ago, he fought valiantly to the very end, never even considering giving up, no matter how harsh the effects of his treatment and never once expressing a hint of self-pity. He only ever expressed gratitude for those who were treating him. Indeed, when he was told that the treatment options had been exhausted, his first reaction was to comment to the doctor that such conversations must make her job very hard.
Throughout his treatment, as it was before he was sick, Otto had mum by his side every step of the way.
Happily, Otto became a grandfather in his final years, embracing the new role with both hands. He absolutely adored his grandsons. He even started scheduling time away from the office every week, something which was completely unprecedented, just to spend more time with Archer and Kieran. My memories of Otto cuddling and playing with my children are something which I will cherish forever. Otto also adored mum, Acacia, Elliot and I, and he showed it during every waking moment.
There are a million “Otto Stories” that we could tell, but if I attempted that we’d be here for days. I would encourage everyone to tell your favourite Otto stories as we celebrate his life after this service.
I would like to close, at Otto’s request, with the Viking Prayer, something which really resonated with him:
Lo, there do I see my father.
Lo, there do I see my mother and my brother.
Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning.
Lo, they do call to me and bid me to take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla where the brave may live forever.
Goodbye Otto, we love you.
OTTO'S POEM
Funerals are for the living, not for the dead,
My journey continues, my way lies ahead.
Death is not the end, it’s merely a door
So many have passed through and travelled before.
Weep not for me, I have had a good life –
Wonderful kids, my best friend my wife,
Laughs, love and joys, my road has been blessed,
So many good people, my time was the best.
Death comes to us all, it’s but a page.
Not a candle extinguished, only a stage.
Retain me in memory, a sad heart will mend,
But love will endure, this isn’t the end.
–Otto Stichter
