Roll Call Tribute

Dolph M. Roesler, III
October 28, 1976 – August 27, 2022

Once upon a time, there lived a special someone, more stubborn and brave than a Texas Ranger, more stoic and understanding than Woodrow or Gus. Adolph Matt Roesler, III entered this world on a bright October morning; he left us in darkness on a bright August day.

Dearly beloved from the moment he was born, Dolph was the precious son of Judy and Matt, known by certain aunts as the golden egg. As a child, Dolphie was loving, calling his mother Sweetheart. He also was curious, testing hypotheses on his baby sister and, later, the family pets: see what happens if I take away Kirstie’s bottle; see how we can hoist dog Mikey up the tree using a pulley system and bucket. As they grew, Kirsten was delighted to be his partner in crime and proud to have a brother who would trample anyone who messed with her.

Dolph put his mischief and love of pyrotechnics to good use in the Boy Scouts, where he employed equal opportunity in pranking peers and scout masters alike. Survival in the wilderness whetted his appetite for challenging himself and rising to the occasion. He loved testing his limits, a tool for survival that he would rely on throughout his life. He scaled the mountains of Philmont twice with his troop, nearly giving his father an aneurism with their antics. Dolph attained the rank of Eagle Scout with not a minute to spare, and the “Lily Pond” his team dug at the Houston Arboretum stands testament 27 years later to his spirit of service and perseverance.

His childhood interest in rockets and science projects fueled a desire to pursue engineering. He enrolled at Booker T. Washington High School for Engineering Professions, and in the process learned the art of Step dancing from his African American peers.

From there, he was off to Texas A&M for mechanical engineering, where physics, thermodynamics, multivariate calculus, and six-inch textbooks excited his brain and scrambled his family’s. He developed expertise in the major 3D visualization/CAD programs for engineering and developed an appreciation for architectural design while working in his father’s practice.  As an ROTC Air Force Cadet, Class of ’00, he was assigned to unit “Outlaw 8.”

Never one to forego a challenge, Dolph served on the Corps of Cadets Fish Drill Team, a nationally famous, multi-championship squad known for its precision rifle drills and intense training. Dolph’s stature put him at a disadvantage, and because he was the last to finish his runs, he often was given extra laps, rain or shine. But each hardship for Dolph was a badge of honor, one of many he accrued in his life. When others dropped out, he persevered, and his victories were all the sweeter.

Dolph had the mind of an engineer, alternately earning people’s respect and exasperation with his attention to detail. Stringing Christmas lights in the front yard with his father brought out his Captain Ahab, with each burned-out bulb his white whale. Laying brick pavers in the driveway became a mathematical magnum opus before the first brick could be laid.

His precision proved a boon to his friends. Many a happy taste tester encouraged his obsession with perfecting his salsa and chile rellenos. He packed for weekend camping trips as if they were month-long expeditions, yet completely centered around food, to everyone’s delight. Today and forever, nothing will say Dolph like gourmet dinners in the woods and Lamb’s Ear leaves for toilet paper.

Once upon a time, Dolph was unstoppable. Through sheer grit and determination, he studied six years at A&M, graduated from the Corps, and continued engineering at the University of Houston to gain his last credits. He earned straight A’s that first semester, went on to design off-shore underwater oil rig machinery at work, and served as an engineer in an international deep ocean design and manufacturing company, all as the cruelty of mental illness inched silently into his brain.

And still it didn’t define Dolph. He became a jack of all trades, from pick-up jobs to construction and anything in between to support himself. Most recently, he worked as a CAD designer on residential and hotel projects. He used a unique style of lettering to mark-up drawings that his father and colleagues dubbed Dolph-oglyphics, of which only he knew the complete meaning. His tendency to look at and under the details helped the team avoid many hiccups in the field.

He remained open to love and laughter and happiness and joy, undergirded by the love of his immediate family, as well as many aunts, uncles, cousins, his precious Mema, and dear friends-for-life. He continued to love adventure and entertainment, belaying off a cliff in the dark after setting his own anchors, or watching a horror movie with his brother (in-law) Chris that had them clinging to each other and laughing about it later.

Dolph had such grace; he forgave easily. He helped many a person through times of crisis and always lent a helping hand. He rallied to cheer others, no matter his own battles. He was through the end a great friend.

He was tenacious, and clung to life with a warrior’s spirit and an abiding faith. He grew up at Advent Lutheran Church in Houston, where he was baptized, confirmed and raised in the shadow of the cross his grandfather carved. Yet his faith only deepened as his struggles increased. He also was a survivor, and the minimalism, improvisation and self-reliance he learned early on served him well.

Dolph loved: a pickup game of soccer, disc golf with friends, pina coladas and sunsets, a chicken-stuffed avocado he ate in the early 2000s. He could baby-talk to a cat like nobody’s business, build one raging bonfire, and was more content under the stars in a hammock than the softest bed.

Dolph hated: bullies, pretension, gossip, goat cheese, and any kind of assistance.

We will remember him for his endearing laugh, low yet fast like a chipmunk; his strong hugs for all and kisses on the cheek for his women; his child’s spirit with his beloved nieces Evie and Anna; his sense of wonder at the little things: hatchlings in a nest, a sunrise spilling over the horizon, the intricacy of a leaf, a butterfly’s wing.

We will remember the fierce beauty that came of his pain, and know that his most defining achievements are those less quantifiable yet more essential to being a good human being: he embodied compassion, empathy and kindness, particularly for those in distress. He had a wisdom borne of suffering, and he understood that the deepest wounds are those we cannot see. We could all be a little more like Dolph.

Once upon a time, our hearts were not broken. But we will follow your example of courage, Dolph, knowing that you are finally at peace.

A memorial service for Dolph will take place on October 1, 2022 at 10:00 AM at Advent Lutheran Church, 5820 Pinemont Drive, Houston, TX 77092 with a lunch to follow after. A graveside service will be private. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to The Beacon nonprofit fighting homelessness: https://app.etapestry.com/onlineforms/TheBeacon/Donate.html and to NAMI Greater Houston, the National Alliance on Mental Illness: https://funraise.org/give/NAMI-Greater-Houston/7441fef6-7530-49c6-8e3e-aa690e47270c/