The residents of the sleepy farming town of New Leipzig, North Dakota, were unaware but on July 30, 1936, there arrived among them a seemingly ordinary soul who would go on to enrich the lives of a multitude of family and friends, help usher in a revolutionary new era of business computing, raise a couple of thoroughly mediocre kids of whom he was immensely proud, be a loving and devoted partner to his wife, fix broken things, and make a hell of a lot of homemade bread.

Reinhart Henry Kurtz (You can call him Kurt. Everyone did.) was the youngest of six kids, which mostly meant he had the last crack at the murky, tepid tub of bathwater after everyone else in the family had taken their turn. Henry and Mary Kurtz, thrifty Germans to the core, moved their family to Milltown, Montana, when Kurt was 9 months old and settled into a converted garage on West Riverside Drive. Henry, who worked at the lumber mill, later built the family home (which still stands). Kurt spent a semi-feral adolescence palling around with his friends, exploring the woods that surrounded their home, fishing, and plinking at targets with his .22 rifle.

In 1956, after graduating from Missoula County High School, Kurt enlisted in the Army. After basic and then specialized meat and dairy hygiene training, Kurt shipped out to Verdun, France, where we suspect he probably had the time of his life. One of his primary assignments, other than meat inspection, was tending the general's German Shepherds. And he would sheepishly admit to a fair share of carousing and pursuing some of Europe's loveliest beret-sporting young ladies.

Having no doubt left a trail of broken hearts behind in Europe, Kurt returned to Milltown and enrolled in the University of Montana, which is where he met Martha on a blind date to see Oklahoma! During their courtship, Martha gamely joined Kurt on his adventures. On one memorable target plinking date, the scope of the rifle she fired split open the skin above her eye. She was not prepared for the gun's recoil and was a bloody mess, but after some laughs (from all involved, we are certain), Kurt took her to the emergency room for a few stitches and we would like to think to the department store for a new shirt.

Eyebrow scar and all, Martha said yes to a lifetime a few years later and they were married in Deer Lodge on June 9, 1962. Kurt was attending an "information automation" trade school in Seattle at the time, so their honeymoon consisted of pointing the Ford west and hitting the road for the big city. The two country mice navigated the city with admirable fortitude. Money was tight, so a go-to pastime involved a trip to the airport to watch the big jets take off and land.

In 1964 son Brad landed on their tarmac, and in 1966, Kurt and Martha hauled their little family back home to Montana where Kurt had secured a job at Montana Physicians' Service (now Blue Cross/Blue Shield) in Helena. He was one of two freshly-minted programmers hired to automate Medicare claims processing for the company. Kurt spent his early work days wrestling room-sized computers with punch cards for programs. And as programmed, daughter Leanne arrived on the scene in 1967. Kurt stayed with the company for 28 years, patiently fielding dozens of middle-of-the-night calls to troubleshoot machine meltdowns, reset punch card explosions, and rewrite code. Kurt solved problems.

As a dad, Kurt was a bit of a pushover, in the best possible way. Brad and Leanne loved when he had grocery shopping duty. Those hauls included sweet cereal, Doritos, pop, and other junk food that was usually reserved for campouts or birthday parties. Discipline from Kurt usually consisted of a low-pitched "Hey now …" and then we'd move on.

After retiring in 1994, Kurt embraced his new house-husband status and was able to fully realize his inherent skills as a tinkerer, a builder, a creator, a fixer, and a breadmaker. He always had a project in the works and the projects were always meticulously conceived and executed. He learned how to cook and how to make bread. Lots of bread. He made so much bread, he kept a log of the date, the type of bread, and how it turned out. For every single loaf. Some might call that OCD; we called it pretty funny. Kurt hiked the breadth and width of the Scratchgravel Hills, where he and the family had moved in 1978, rarely missing a day in the woods. Kurt and Martha hauled their camper all over the West to see the sights, sit by a creek, and visit friends and family.

In 2015, Kurt was diagnosed with cognitive disorder, which predictably progressed to dementia, the fallout of which ended his life on September 24, 2023. Through it all, even as the disease progressed, Kurt remained the same kind, patient, steadfast goofball we all knew him to be. We lost him in increments over the years, but even on his final day, the essence of who he was remained intact. Kurt could fix (almost) anything, but he could not fix the cruel disease that relentlessly stole his thoughts and memories and, finally, his ability to function.

Those who remain to remember Kurt and hold close his memory include his wife Martha; his son, Brad (Lisa); daughter Leanne (Chris); grandsons Jackson, Harrison, and Aaron; his sister Emma Barkley; sisters-in-law Mae Hassman and Anna Kurtz; numerous nieces, nephews, and cousins; friends and former colleagues; and his and Martha's pup Lucy, who knew Kurt to have a warm lap and a generosity with treats. Preceding Kurt in death were his parents Henry and Mary Kurtz; and his four siblings, Arthur, Richard, Edmund, and Laura.

In honor of Kurt, try fixing something you might otherwise have thrown away. And if you can't fix it, pack it nicely in a box, label the box "Doesn't Work", and carefully stow it in your garage because you might get to it one of these days and it's a shame to just throw it away.

Kurt's family extends warm thanks to the caring administrators and staff at Edgewood Memory Care for helping him and us navigate his last few weeks and for their kindness after he passed.

If you would like to make a donation in Kurt's name, the Alzheimer's Association does important work, and perhaps one day, this wretched disease can be relegated to the dustbin of medical history.

Please join Kurt's family for a Celebration of Life on Saturday, October 7, 2023 at 2:00 p.m. at the Holter Museum of Art, 12 E. Lawrence St. We promise funny stories, sweet stories, cool stuff that dad built, pictures, and fellowship.

Simple Cremation Montana has assisted the family. Remembrances and condolences may be sent to the family at simplecremationmt.com.