My father, Chris Rozniecki, sadly and suddenly passed away last week. As no one in the family was expecting him to pass so soon, including himself, it appears his finances weren’t in order, to put it mildly. My mother, Sherrie Rozniecki, is now in a panic, as all of my dad’s debts have been passed onto her. If anyone can help, it’d be appreciated beyond words. While I haven’t finished it yet, I leave you with what I’ve completed of my father’s obituary. I attempted to write it in a manner I felt he would appreciate. He was a generous, humorous, and unique soul, and will be dearly missed. RIP, dad.
Neal Christopher Rozniecki (or as he sometimes called himself, “Kneel”) was finally able to set his mind at ease on May 21, 2025. If you spent even just 5 seconds with Chris, you knew his mind was always in overdrive – often making unexpected detours along the way. This 73-year road trip started on March 29, 1952, in Detroit, Michigan, with his parents Joan (Jimmy) and Ed at the wheel. Chris, like his father, always excelled in math, so he naturally started his work-journey at Baskin-Robbins, where he could ask customers, “Will that be one scoop or two?” He worked from the age of 10 to just before his passing. In his later years, if one were to ask what he did for a living, the odds were good he’d respond, “I work with numbers and sh*t.” Yes, Chris was a poet. That’s actually not a joke. He wrote and recited humorous poems at work. When telling the family about these literary masterpieces, it left his wife and kids wondering, “Is he sure his job isn’t ‘poetry and sh*t’?” If there’s one thing Chris liked to do more than anything else, it was to make people laugh. There was never a line he wouldn’t cross, even if it meant embarrassing himself in front of dozens of friends and family, and never hearing the end of it for the rest of his days. Over the holidays, when with family in Michigan, he decided it’d be a good idea to, after using the restroom, have a long line of toilet paper lodged in the back of his pants, and trailing behind him. When he walked out of the bathroom and heard roars of laughter, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “What?” as if he didn’t know it appeared he possessed a tail made of toilet paper, as long as an anaconda. When at a bar, he’d be known to ask for shots of Penicillin. Even when Chris wasn’t intentionally joking around, funny situations just seemed to follow him. A few years ago, around Christmas, he was out with family. As he got out of an elevator, with his COVID mask on top of his head (fashion statement, obviously), a man walked up to him and said, “Happy Hanukkah.” As the man walked away, Chris and the rest of his family stared confusingly at one another, as none of them were in fact Jewish. Then they all burst into laughter, as it became obvious to them the courteous stranger thought Chris’s COVID mask was in fact a yarmulke. Besides writing poems for a numbers-oriented job and attempting to make toilet paper sexy (again?), Chris loved: music, sports, and serial-killer documentaries (or as he liked to call them, “killer sh*t”). There he goes with the poetic tendencies again. No matter how bad they were, he was unashamed to sport: Detroit Tigers, Detroit Lions, and Detroit Red Wings gear. Okay, so he may have shied away from publicly illustrating his support for the 43-119 Detroit Tigers in 2003 and the 0-16 Detroit Lions in 2008, but he still did so privately. Allegedly. As there are a great number of quality cover bands in the Columbus area, Chris made it a point to attend at least one show per weekend with family and friends over the course of several years. During these nights out, there were three guarantees: 1) Music, 2) People-watching, and 3) Chris pretending to dance with an unattended chair. Sadly, the chair never reciprocated said interest, and Chris was then forced to travel home with his wife of 48 years. Yes, she too was disappointed by these turns of events. As for the serial-killer documentaries, it all started with the show “COPS” in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s. Studies suggest 79% of you reading this right now are singing, “Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?” and will have said song stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. You’re welcome. Chris’s hidden talents included, but were most certainly not limited to: the silent whistle, indecipherable Pictionary drawings, the dog-paddle moonwalk, and snores which registered at 9.6 on the Richter scale. At the end of the day, Chris, despite his humor, was rather introverted, as well as independent and generous, allowing his actions to do most the talking. This resulted in him owning a shirt which said, “I’m A People Person.” He believed in: fairness, equality, and that roundabouts made as much sense as the lyrics to “I Am the Walrus.” He didn’t believe in: Facebook (or as he called it, “My Face”), toolsets, and long-winded obituaries. Chris is survived by his “you are so boo-tee-fool” wife, Sherrie (his literal spoken words, the thoughts of everyone else). His sons, Craig Rozniecki of Columbus, Ohio, and Chad Rozniecki (Sarah Engelhardt) of Omaha, Nebraska, will now battle over their father’s tuba-sized condoms he had to specially order from Brobdingnag. Lucy and Olivia Rozniecki, of Omaha, Nebraska, and Ethan Rozniecki of Columbus, Ohio, will sorely miss their personal jungle gym known as “Papa.” His brother, Ken Rozniecki of Saint Clair Shores, Michigan, and sister, Sandy Rozniecki (Bill Brady) of Grosse Pointe Woods, Michigan, will now tell Chris’s children their brother’s long held secrets about what he actually did with his clarinet growing up. Nephews, Alex Brady of Ithaca, New York, and Daniel Brady of Grosse Pointe Woods, Michigan, as well as nieces: Darci Repine of Harper Woods, Michigan; Mandy Repine of Harrison Township, Michigan; and Kaitlin Repine (Tyler Garza) of Saint Clair Shores, Michigan, will miss their unhinged uncle like crazy. Lastly, Chris is survived by his dog, Lexi, who was the main reason neighbors busted out binoculars whenever they walked around the neighborhood – for there was no sight like Chris bent over, picking up dog crap.