Ted H. Rozkuszka

Ted H. Rozkuszka, 85, passed away in hospital on June 30, 2024.

Ted and his legacy of activism and charity were celebrated on Sunday, September 29, 2024, at Avogadro’s Number in Fort Collins. The day began with a traditional memorial, followed by “Progress 2025,” a political education event with live music and guest speakers addressing the dangers of Project 2025.

It feels impossible to describe a horse of so many colors in short form. Ted’s biography had ordinary elements, one wife, one child, one long held civil service job, but to those who knew and loved him, he was a man of incredible breadth and generosity.

Ted spent his childhood playing baseball and roving the Chicago streets with friends. His teens and youthful summers were spent working odd jobs, watching live blues, and taking road trips to fish in Wisconsin. Fascinated with the expanse of the American West, he set off at age 18 for Logan, Utah. The red canyons of Utah sparked his fascination with geology. He sketched rock formations and local flora as a pastime, emerging from USU with a degree in political science with a concentration in wildlife management.

A desire to see the world prompted him to join the army in 1962. Ted served in the regular army from 1962 to 1965, and again in the reserves until 1968. His station in Germany gave him access to Europe’s museums and castles. In fact, a trip to Heidelberg introduced him to a Dutch language student named Foek, aka Fiona; a campaign of courtship letters ensued. Fiona moved to the United States, eventually joining Ted in Chicago, as he was applying for federal jobs that might take him back to wide open spaces. Fort Collins, Colorado, offered postal service and treasury department opportunities, and so they moved. The city kid in Ted’s heart was taken with the idea that a regular guy could simply buy land out there, and so he did. Ted and Fiona married, had a baby, and moved their trailer to the plot where Ted would help build their future home.

The ensuing decades followed the plot of the working Dad. Nine-to-fives for the federal government, except where field work allowed for sleeping in and working past dark. He served as a Treasury union steward. Ted bought horses. (Daughters love horses, right?) Well, it was Ted who loved them most, as he evolved into some sort of modern cowboy. Baling hay, trimming hooves, caring for his beloved Appaloosas and Spanish Mustangs. Weekends were spent horsing around, hunting for petrified wood and fossils around Colorado and Wyoming, or running errands with his biggest fan and sidekick, his young daughter. By night the house filled with the sounds of the lapidary saw and grinding wheel, or foreign films and PBS on the television. Summers were spent much the same way, unless the family went to stay in Holland, or unless they drove the interminable stretch of burning hot highway back to Chicago, gallons of water and engine coolant on hand, in case of inevitable station wagon breakdowns.

What will be missed about Ted? The reliability, the humor, the devotion to goodness, but most of all, the conversations. Anyone could talk to Ted about anything. He offered advice, but never with too heavy a hand. A beer on a patio might find him talking politics or telling stories, which usually led to his open-mouthed laugh and smile.

Existential conversations with his then-adult daughter Soraya would reveal that Ted’s biggest goal in life was to be a better person in his 40s than he had been in his 30s, better still in his 50s, and so on. It was this commitment to improving the self and the world that made Ted his daughter’s hero. Life was not without its challenges, however. For years, Fiona struggled with undiagnosed OCD, at a time when doctors had no name for the disorder. The family swirled in the uncertainty, until finally, a diagnosis led to the kind of actionable problem solving that Ted could get behind. He vowed to do better and be more supportive, and he was. Ted and Fiona grew into old age together as constant companions, rarely even going to a grocery store without each other.

A family trip to Lake Powell in the late 80s led to another medical mystery: heart arrhythmias, which were found to be caused by a birth defect in his heart. Surgery. Recovery. Optimism. Renewed goals to be better, read more, learn more, travel more, give more, live more. Which he did.

But a few years later, the need for another surgery slowed Ted down and forced him to shift from weekend rancher and golfer to a more sedentary way. It may have slowed his body, but it did not slow his mind. He just read more books about science and culture, watched more documentaries about history and discovery, and wrote more little checks to over a hundred charities.

To see his check registers after he passed was a marvel to his family. We knew he stayed up late reading brochures and magazines from his causes, but to see a register of 25 checks where 4 were bills and 21 were sending off $20 here and $50 there to charitable causes, it was more than any of us ever realized. Native American schools, clinics, and elder homes. Civil rights. Women’s rights. Wild horses. Veterans. Democratic candidates. The environment. The blind. Disease research. He had a late-night sit-down for this purpose, weekly at least, for no less than forty years. Ted’s tax guy said he’d never seen anything like it. There was no bragging, no obvious sign that giving was more than a logical duty for anyone with the means. And this, from a frugal guy who bought his post-retirement threads at thrift stores and fixed everything with duct tape.

The retirement years, while less action-packed, gave Ted one new sacred purpose; the birth of a grandson he adored. They did Grandpa things: the playground, the library, fishing. Eventually talking about college and the future, going to concerts, a Bernie rally, even sharing that first 21st birthday brewpub experience. The closeness between Thaddeus and Ted was apparent.

This last Spring, when Ted could tell that his health and even his excellent mind were failing him, he expressed a wish that he wanted to make it to October, to receive his ballot. (Though he quipped that he might not want to make it to Election Day, lest the results be utterly fascist.) Ted did not make it to ballot season, urging his family all the while to do their tiny part in the event that he could not.

In this spirit, Ted’s celebration of life (date TBA, September) will include a progressive voter enrichment aspect.

Ted was preceded in death by his parents, Ted and Olga, and sister Carol Floreth. He is survived by his wife Fiona, daughter Soraya, grandson Thaddeus, sister Barbara Blue, brother David, Carol’s children Valerie, Mike, and Tim, Barbara’s children Kathleen and Scott, and scores of in-laws in The Netherlands.

In lieu of flowers, please consider donating in Ted’s name / memory to Soaring Eagle Heritage Living Center or the Southern Poverty Law Center. Other favorite charities, should you care to pick up where Ted left off with a one-time or recurring donation, include ACLU of Colorado, Native American Rights Fund, Public Citizen, Common Cause Education Fund, and the Food Bank of Larimer County.