Uncle Jim
It is 4:00 a.m. here, (or was when I started this) and I just got word from home that my Uncle Jim died earlier. He was a very good man, and a very big part of my life. I was lucky to be able to talk to him one last time from here a day ago. My family is very important to me and I love them all very much. I am very sorry for not being there at this time. Instead, please bear with me as I depart from my meaningless ramblings, and say a few words about Jim. Funerals are good for storytelling. Perhaps that's the most important part, as everyone gathered gets to remember and share all those funny, sad or poignant stories that make up your shared life. So, since I am missing all that, please allow me to share a few from here.
Jim was the last of my dad's four brothers. In order, there was Phil, Tony, Joe, Fr. Tom and Jim. While we loved and enjoyed them all, we were especially close to Jim and Fr.Tom as they were the only two that lived in Minnesota. When we were kids, Sunday dinners were always special family events. They were made extra special as more often than not we would have Jim and Fr. Tom join us. Jim was solo at the time, and Fr. Tom, being a priest, had us as his closest family. So, they would join us for a late afternoon dinner. It was sort of like having two extra dads, except with the discipline part out of the way, and only left with the fun and laughs. ( In fact, having lost my dad in 1977, Jim filled an especially important role for us). As young kids we ate up this extra attention that came our way on these Sundays. But Invariably, being hard-headed Calabresi men, one or the other of dad, Jim or Fr. Tom would get cross ways with the other, and there would then be a boycott of our Sunday dinners due the slight, real or imagined. We kids were the only ones who seemed to suffer from their absence, and it never made sense to us. But, my mom always came to the rescue, calling one of the offended parties and saying that the offending party was apologizing and they should get over to our place for dinner. None of the apology part was true, but it did the trick, got everyone back for dinner, and after a few gruff acknowledgements of the supposed apology, dinners would resume, much to our enjoyment.
My dad and Jim were especially close, sharing regular Saturday and Sunday early morning golf outings all through the summer. As kids, we'd awake to hear them leaving about 6:30 a.m. wondering what in the world would possess someone to go out on a weekend at that hour, as we turned over and went back to sleep. I would never have imagined then, that my brother Tom and I would pick up the same tradition many years later, getting up the same time on Saturday and Sunday mornings to get 9 holes in before the rest of the world seemed to be rising. Brother-in-law Tom would join us, and to bring things full circle, Uncle Jim would join us. We were greeted by the same starter who always asked how our dad (Uncle Jim) was doing. After many times of correcting him to no avail, we gave up, and just accepted that Jim was now our dad. Those were very sweet mornings, and ask me sometime about almost knocking Uncle Jim out with a perfect golf shot, probably the only one I ever hit.
Uncle Jim and Fr Tom took serious their task of assisting in teaching us the finer things in life. When I was a senior in High School, Jim and Fr. Tom took me out to a fine dinner. They introduced me to cocktails, explained which wine was good with what dish, and (don't tell anyone) introduced me to cigarettes. Their motto, "All things in moderation." I felt pretty grown up and special at the time. That seems like a lifetime ago, and I guess it was a couple lifetimes ago.
My dad, Jim and Fr. Tom had a tradition of going out one day a year for their annual Christmas shopping. I don't think they ever had much shopping to do, but it gave them a good excuse to get together and end up at a bar or restaurant to finish with drinks and stories. Luckily, Jim asked Tom and me to continue with that tradition after he lost his brothers, Fr. Tom and my dad. The first of these was just Tom, Jim and I (later expanded to nephew Brian, and bro-in-law Tom. The first is most memorable, and almost was our last. We continued where Jim had left off at the Hotel Sofitel, and he informed us that we should just order the cheese plate, bread and a bottle of wine, as was their custom. The first bottle went down pretty well, and he insisted on another. Who were we to argue, as this was his tradition. Two bottles of wine was more than enough, so we moved on to a cognac or two for after dinner. We outlasted the lunch crowd, and to placate the waiters glaring at us to leave, we moved to the bar to share a drink together. In the back of our clouded heads, we knew that even though Jim was having a great time, (as were we) he was on dialysis, and perhaps this was not the best idea. You would have thought my brother would have been grown up enough to put a stop to this earlier. Jim finished the event with a classic "drinking and dialing" moment to my sisters to say "I wuv yooou." We somehow managed to pour Jim into the car and I don't know how we got him up to their second floor apartment to let Karen (who is indeed a saint) get him into bed. I hate to admit that Jim ended up in the hospital the next day. I remember getting there to see him as the doctor came in to take his history. In response to a question as to whether he might have done anything different the previous day to cause these problems, Jim said, "Well I may have had a little wine with lunch". Karen and I choked, and managed to not fall off our chairs. The only reason Tom and I didn't predecease Jim is that he came out of the hospital in good shape the next day in time for our Christmas celebration.
I should also mention that Uncle Jim was a master teacher of the fine art of flirting. As I think is true of most of the Pingatore males, he had a great appreciation for the opposite sex. There was always that twinkle in his eyes, especially when any good looking (or average looking) woman happened to be in his presence. And, he had an especially soft spot in his heart for my sisters, Ginny, Linda, and Mary, and his two other nieces, Pat and Diane. Their presence seemed to bring great joy to his life, along with his grand nieces and nephew. As my daughter Laura just told me, "he was the master of the $20 handshake", and they loved his homemade meatballs." (Not seeing my kids too often, when he did, he'd call one of them over, and grab their hand for a shake, leaving them with a $20.)
I must mention Jim's incredible wife, Karen. Jim adored her, and as we have all told Karen, she gave us at least an extra 10 years of life with Uncle Jim. He went on dialysis, I think in 2001. If you read anything about the prognosis for those on dialysis, most don't last too many years, as it takes a toll, and many give up. Karen got up early 3 times a week for all those years to get Jim to dialysis, put up with all his grumblings, and gave him reason to live. All this she did with smiles, laughs, (maybe a few kicks in the butt) and immense love for my uncle. We can never thank her enough.
Finally one last story. Jim was always a kid at heart, perhaps due to being the baby of the family. And, this was one of his best qualities as whenever we saw him it meant fun. He used to work at a paper company. One sunday he arrived pretty excited with two newfangled plastic kites that his company was trying out. He couldn't wait to round up Tom and me as his excuse to head to the park to see how they would fly. It was a pretty windy day, and Tom and I being all of maybe 6 and 7 were pretty skeptical of getting one off the ground. But, to our great surprise, it took off, and soared beautifully. Tom and I had to fight for a turn to take hold of the string from Jim. When, it finally came my turn, I held the string feeling the kite pull as I let the rest of the string out. However, none of us realized the string wasn't attached to the spool, or at least I didn't. So, as it reached the end, the kite continued to soar high into the sky lost to us forever. I still remember the looks on Uncle Jim's and Tom's faces, and a bit of a sinking feeling that I'd really messed up. But, we finally managed to make the best of it, have a few laughs about it.
Tom and I went back to the park on our own with the remaining kite several times, and we were never able to get it to fly. I guess it needed the magic Uncle Jim supplied that day. And, now his string has run out with nothing left anchoring him to this earth. I will greatly miss the laughter, the love and the magic of Uncle Jim. Ciao e salute.
Jim was the last of my dad's four brothers. In order, there was Phil, Tony, Joe, Fr. Tom and Jim. While we loved and enjoyed them all, we were especially close to Jim and Fr.Tom as they were the only two that lived in Minnesota. When we were kids, Sunday dinners were always special family events. They were made extra special as more often than not we would have Jim and Fr. Tom join us. Jim was solo at the time, and Fr. Tom, being a priest, had us as his closest family. So, they would join us for a late afternoon dinner. It was sort of like having two extra dads, except with the discipline part out of the way, and only left with the fun and laughs. ( In fact, having lost my dad in 1977, Jim filled an especially important role for us). As young kids we ate up this extra attention that came our way on these Sundays. But Invariably, being hard-headed Calabresi men, one or the other of dad, Jim or Fr. Tom would get cross ways with the other, and there would then be a boycott of our Sunday dinners due the slight, real or imagined. We kids were the only ones who seemed to suffer from their absence, and it never made sense to us. But, my mom always came to the rescue, calling one of the offended parties and saying that the offending party was apologizing and they should get over to our place for dinner. None of the apology part was true, but it did the trick, got everyone back for dinner, and after a few gruff acknowledgements of the supposed apology, dinners would resume, much to our enjoyment.
My dad and Jim were especially close, sharing regular Saturday and Sunday early morning golf outings all through the summer. As kids, we'd awake to hear them leaving about 6:30 a.m. wondering what in the world would possess someone to go out on a weekend at that hour, as we turned over and went back to sleep. I would never have imagined then, that my brother Tom and I would pick up the same tradition many years later, getting up the same time on Saturday and Sunday mornings to get 9 holes in before the rest of the world seemed to be rising. Brother-in-law Tom would join us, and to bring things full circle, Uncle Jim would join us. We were greeted by the same starter who always asked how our dad (Uncle Jim) was doing. After many times of correcting him to no avail, we gave up, and just accepted that Jim was now our dad. Those were very sweet mornings, and ask me sometime about almost knocking Uncle Jim out with a perfect golf shot, probably the only one I ever hit.
Uncle Jim and Fr Tom took serious their task of assisting in teaching us the finer things in life. When I was a senior in High School, Jim and Fr. Tom took me out to a fine dinner. They introduced me to cocktails, explained which wine was good with what dish, and (don't tell anyone) introduced me to cigarettes. Their motto, "All things in moderation." I felt pretty grown up and special at the time. That seems like a lifetime ago, and I guess it was a couple lifetimes ago.
My dad, Jim and Fr. Tom had a tradition of going out one day a year for their annual Christmas shopping. I don't think they ever had much shopping to do, but it gave them a good excuse to get together and end up at a bar or restaurant to finish with drinks and stories. Luckily, Jim asked Tom and me to continue with that tradition after he lost his brothers, Fr. Tom and my dad. The first of these was just Tom, Jim and I (later expanded to nephew Brian, and bro-in-law Tom. The first is most memorable, and almost was our last. We continued where Jim had left off at the Hotel Sofitel, and he informed us that we should just order the cheese plate, bread and a bottle of wine, as was their custom. The first bottle went down pretty well, and he insisted on another. Who were we to argue, as this was his tradition. Two bottles of wine was more than enough, so we moved on to a cognac or two for after dinner. We outlasted the lunch crowd, and to placate the waiters glaring at us to leave, we moved to the bar to share a drink together. In the back of our clouded heads, we knew that even though Jim was having a great time, (as were we) he was on dialysis, and perhaps this was not the best idea. You would have thought my brother would have been grown up enough to put a stop to this earlier. Jim finished the event with a classic "drinking and dialing" moment to my sisters to say "I wuv yooou." We somehow managed to pour Jim into the car and I don't know how we got him up to their second floor apartment to let Karen (who is indeed a saint) get him into bed. I hate to admit that Jim ended up in the hospital the next day. I remember getting there to see him as the doctor came in to take his history. In response to a question as to whether he might have done anything different the previous day to cause these problems, Jim said, "Well I may have had a little wine with lunch". Karen and I choked, and managed to not fall off our chairs. The only reason Tom and I didn't predecease Jim is that he came out of the hospital in good shape the next day in time for our Christmas celebration.
I should also mention that Uncle Jim was a master teacher of the fine art of flirting. As I think is true of most of the Pingatore males, he had a great appreciation for the opposite sex. There was always that twinkle in his eyes, especially when any good looking (or average looking) woman happened to be in his presence. And, he had an especially soft spot in his heart for my sisters, Ginny, Linda, and Mary, and his two other nieces, Pat and Diane. Their presence seemed to bring great joy to his life, along with his grand nieces and nephew. As my daughter Laura just told me, "he was the master of the $20 handshake", and they loved his homemade meatballs." (Not seeing my kids too often, when he did, he'd call one of them over, and grab their hand for a shake, leaving them with a $20.)
I must mention Jim's incredible wife, Karen. Jim adored her, and as we have all told Karen, she gave us at least an extra 10 years of life with Uncle Jim. He went on dialysis, I think in 2001. If you read anything about the prognosis for those on dialysis, most don't last too many years, as it takes a toll, and many give up. Karen got up early 3 times a week for all those years to get Jim to dialysis, put up with all his grumblings, and gave him reason to live. All this she did with smiles, laughs, (maybe a few kicks in the butt) and immense love for my uncle. We can never thank her enough.
Finally one last story. Jim was always a kid at heart, perhaps due to being the baby of the family. And, this was one of his best qualities as whenever we saw him it meant fun. He used to work at a paper company. One sunday he arrived pretty excited with two newfangled plastic kites that his company was trying out. He couldn't wait to round up Tom and me as his excuse to head to the park to see how they would fly. It was a pretty windy day, and Tom and I being all of maybe 6 and 7 were pretty skeptical of getting one off the ground. But, to our great surprise, it took off, and soared beautifully. Tom and I had to fight for a turn to take hold of the string from Jim. When, it finally came my turn, I held the string feeling the kite pull as I let the rest of the string out. However, none of us realized the string wasn't attached to the spool, or at least I didn't. So, as it reached the end, the kite continued to soar high into the sky lost to us forever. I still remember the looks on Uncle Jim's and Tom's faces, and a bit of a sinking feeling that I'd really messed up. But, we finally managed to make the best of it, have a few laughs about it.
Tom and I went back to the park on our own with the remaining kite several times, and we were never able to get it to fly. I guess it needed the magic Uncle Jim supplied that day. And, now his string has run out with nothing left anchoring him to this earth. I will greatly miss the laughter, the love and the magic of Uncle Jim. Ciao e salute.
Beautiful sentiments Joe, you capture the wonderful heart and soul of Uncle Jim. I too remember the twinkle in his eye and the love he gave the entire family.
ReplyDeleteI remember that first Christmas shopping trip as well, he was having a grand time calling all the "girls" in the family and giggling. It was a great story to tell over the Christmas dinner that year.
I will miss that twinkle and the laughter and that beautiful head of white hair. There is another angel in heaven and he is having a grand time with all of his brothers.
Sorry! I'm posting, then finding huge typos... third time's a charm?
ReplyDeleteSo now you have me in tears, on many counts. First, if you substituted the names, you described the Sauro tradition of family dinners/bullheadedness. Your words are a poignant reminder of all that is "past" with those elder Italians I so dearly love. (Sorry, this is not about me.) Second, I'm in tears, laughing with your retelling of these great stories. And, always the gentleman, giving credit to all involved. This is how a person lives on... the stories. Thanks for sharing them. Lastly, your kite metaphor. Really, Giuseppe, you need to consider this secondary career as a writer. The metaphor about the art of letting go,like that bittersweet release of the kite string, sad to have your companion at play leave you, but delighted to see the beauty of soaring skyward, was emotionally moving. You and your family were there for Jim during the times of importance during his life. For his final ceremony, take time to represent him in tandem in the motherland, with another cathedral, lighting another candle, and raising a glass of wine in his honor. My sympathies are with you and your family as you mourn the loss of your uncle... and a good friend. Abbracci forti.
Giuseppe mi dispiace molto.
ReplyDeleteCondoglianze.
I am very sorry to read about your loss. The stories are wonderful. Your uncle sounds like a remarkable man.
ReplyDelete