continued from 11-15-11........ Let the Tours Begin

As you may recall from my blog entitled, "Let the Tours Begin" written on Nov. 15th, I had become rather curious about the ever present bathroom fixture known as a bidet.   Since I had never seen a bidet at a Holiday Inn or Motel 6 in the USA, I figured I better strike while the iron was hot.  I might not pass this way again, so I'd better give it a whirl here and now.  I said to myself, "Mary, why not experience something new and different?  How can you let this marvelous opportunity pass you by!"

OK, so here goes this new life experience.   First of all, I realize I have to get naked and I'm not even in the shower.   I attended Catholic school from the 5th grade upward, and getting naked outside the privacy of the bathtub/shower stall does not come easy.   I overcome that hurdle and then I squat in a yoga-like position -I never took yoga classes but I’ve seen photos- over the bowl.    I squat facing the wall, but I’m not even sure that this is the correct position.   Maybe I should have my back to the wall?  How could I possibly know this? As I mentioned in the previous bidet discussion blog there are no written instructions or diagrams anywhere in the bathroom.   I guess this is the type of information that people assume is categorized under the "general knowledge" section of the brain.   But, it is not in the brain of a girl who grew up in Brooklyn miles and miles away from the nearest bidet.
At 66, my upper thigh muscles are not what they use to be and rather quickly, these underused muscles and loosey-goosey ligaments start quivering.  The “old lady", osteopenia joints are not too strong either and before I know it I am starting to waver and sway back and forth.  I realize I’m falling further and further into the bowl Holy S_ _ _t! my mind quickly registers that I am going into a place where other unmentionables have gone before me.  It is certainly not where I want to be! I decide rather quickly that before I break my hip and end up in some unfamiliar hospital in a foreign country, I best abort this mission.    By the way I think I forgot to mention that I had already turned on the faucet at the front- or is it the back- of the bidet.  Up until this point the water was free-flowing into the basin and hadn’t even grazed  my body.  All of a sudden I lose my footing, and my balance, and slid into the bottom of the bidet.   In an instant, I'm the recipient of a rather forceful shower; I'm being saturated from the bottom up.  My face and upper body is completely soaked.  I've also received a rather vigorous nasal irrigation without the aide of a neti pot.    I muster the last bit of strength in my legs and finally straighten myself up.  Just as I get myself out of the bowl I hear Bob yell to me from the bedroom, " what the hell are you doing in there?"  "
"Oh nothing dear, I have it all under control" .   There is no way on earth that I want him to see me in this humbling position.
I decide that from now on the customary American shower will work just fine at keeping me fresh and clean.  I do however have the satisfaction of knowing that no matter how unsatisfactory this experiment turned out, at least I can say I tried it once.  As a dear friend once told me, life is not a dress rehearsal.
Mary Beth
P.S.  Who else on our tour tried the bidet and how'd it go for you?  

Another Day

While reading a passage from a booklet entitled, Advent 2011 - Your Journey to Christmas, I came across a quote by James Dillet Freeman.  It was an uplifting message given how low I was feeling yesterday.
I will take a moment to share it with you:

                     Let the snow fall as it may, and let the short days hang on dark and cold; 

                     there is that in us which refuses to submit to icy season and gloomy reason,

                     but steps forth into the wind and snow and says in a cheery voice to the world 

                     and every passerby, "Merry Christmas!"

The picture above was taken on Saturday night (12-3-11) at the Hudson Winter Walk in Hudson, NY.  I am with my dear friend, Joanne - my roommate from 1966 until 1971.   An evening winter walk helps one to refuse to submit to "icy season and gloomy reason".

Barren

December is here and the landscape is barren. The weather is biting, bitter and cold.  Some days are worse than others and this has been one of those sad, depressing days.  I have little energy or desire to "get into Christmas" this year but I hope for a better day tomorrow.
This was a reading at Mass the other day and Father's homely was hopeful.   Briefly, the homily spoke of how new life springs forth from a dead-looking stump. 

Is 11:1-10

On that day,
A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse,
and from his roots a bud shall blossom.
The Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him:
a Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
A Spirit of counsel and of strength,
a Spirit of knowledge and of fear of the LORD,
and his delight shall be the fear of the LORD.
Not by appearance shall he judge,
nor by hearsay shall he decide,
But he shall judge the poor with justice,
and decide aright for the land's afflicted.
He shall strike the ruthless with the rod of his mouth,
and with the breath of his lips he shall slay the wicked.
Justice shall be the band around his waist,
and faithfulness a belt upon his hips.

Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb,
and the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
The calf and the young lion shall browse together,
with a little child to guide them.
The cow and the bear shall be neighbors,
together their young shall rest;
the lion shall eat hay like the ox.
The baby shall play by the cobra's den,
and the child lay his hand on the adder's lair.
There shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain;
for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the LORD,
as water covers the sea.

On that day,
The root of Jesse,
set up as a signal for the nations,
The Gentiles shall seek out,
for his dwelling shall be glorious.

The Three Muskateers Together Again

After some effort we finally got the Three Musketeers together again.  The "event" took place yesterday,  Saturday afternoon, Nov. 26th 2011 at my home here in Latham.   It took a lot of phone calls, back and forth discussion, house cleaning and food preparation, but in the end it was all worth it.  Seeing these life-long friends sitting on the couch together reminiscing about their youthful escapades was priceless and we, their families, felt a certain magic radiate forth from this unity known as the Three Musketeers. The guy in the red plaid shirt is my  "Uncle" Nick; he will be 97 this coming January.  In the middle is "Uncle" Joe, the baby of the group;he won't be 96 until August.  On the right in his green Christ Our Light shirt is my Dad, Charlie, who celebrated his 96th birthday on November 2nd.   Between the three of them, they have had 287 years of living.
Some things we learned/re-learned yesterday:    Charlie met Joe Mule' at the start of his Junior Year in high school.  Joe & Charlie both signed up for Chemistry 1 & Chemistry 2 in the same semester - this is an abnormality since Chemistry 1 is typically a prerequisite for Chemistry 2.  Nonetheless, since they had openings in their fall schedule and chemistry 2 just happened to fit perfectly, they were given a waiver and were allowed to take both 1 & 2 in the same semester.  Apparently taking the two courses at once didn't hurt, because both did marvelously well in their Chemistry Regents.  Charlie got the highest score and was awarded a medal in Chemistry.  Shortly after wards, after a re-check of the Chemistry test answers, it was decided that in truth, Joe had gotten the higher score and the medal really belonged to him.   By this time, Charlie claimed he no longer had the medal since he had given it to his girlfriend, Kathy Ryan (Johnny Ryan's sister).  This was the first time I had heard this part of the story - I only knew about Johnny Ryan from stories my mother, Rita, told me - she spoke of having a crush on Johnny before she dated my father and Johnny Ryan escorted her to her senior prom at Girl's High in Brooklyn.
My father's Uncle Frank Odorfer (His cousin Flo's father) had a car and took Charlie up to Garrison, NY to start his junior year in the seminary high school in Garrison, NY.   For some reason (yesterday when I asked him, my father stated he doesn't know/remember why), my father decided not to stay at Garrison that autumn day, but instead decided to turn around and drive back to Brooklyn with his Uncle.  When he arrived home in Brooklyn, his father, Joe, had to scramble to find a high school that would/could accept Charlie on such short notice.  Luckily, fatefully, Bushwick High School said "yes"and my father was admitted there in the autumn  of 1932.      Charlie meets fellow student, Joe Mule', and they begin a life-long friendship. Thus began the history of the 3 Musketeers.  Joe lived at 829 Quincy St., Brooklyn, on the 2nd floor of a 3 story brick building.  Joe's aunt & uncle & their family lived on the 3rd floor and another aunt and uncle & their family lived below him.   Joe's uncle on the 3rd floor was a barber and Charlie enjoyed the free haircuts he was given.  In exchange for the haircuts and some good Sicilian cooking, Charlie did electrical wiring throughout the 3 story house on Quincy Street.  When it came time to graduate, Joe encouraged Charlie to attend a newly created tuition-free college in Brooklyn.  The college was so new that there was no real campus yet, rather there were classrooms scattered in different buildings all over the neighborhood.  Charlie, having no definite plans for his post high school days, decided to join Joe at the newly created Brooklyn College.
It was there that the third Musketeer, Nicholas Pascarelli, entered the picture.  Joe, assuming that it was "an easy A", signed up to take Italian.  Nick, an ambitious Italian-American from Staten Island, decided to take the same class.  And, that my dear friends is how it all began.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone

Just got back from my walk. I have to keep in shape in case we ever decide to take a bus tour around Europe again.   It is not the type of thing for the faint of heart.
The turkey is stuffed and in the oven and already making the house smell wonderful.

I went to the 9AM Mass this morning to say, "thank you, Lord" and on the way to church and back home again I thought about all the things that I have to be thankful for.    There are major, big things  that I am thankful for but I also thought of two that brought a silly smile to my face.  My Italian Tour Trip Mates might understand where I am coming from on this:
Today I was thankful for
1. the fact that I didn't have to have a suitcase of my clothes outside my bedroom door at 6:15AM and
2. the fact that I could go to the bathroom without asking Federica's permission.

Have a nice day. Love, Mary Beth 

My First Christmas

Our grandson, Connor slept over last night since he had off from school today.  Being the day before Thanksgiving, I guess the teachers wanted some extra time to cook.    Connor slept on a blow up mattress at the foot of our bed.  He likes being close to us and we don’t mind having him near. 

Last night, Connor and I had a “movie night”; we watched The Polar Express together as the fire in our wood burning stove (truthfully, now it is gas operated) kept us warm and cozy.    We are always looking for things to keep Connor entertained and gainfully occupied, so I decided to begin decorating the house for Christmas.   Yes, I know it is really too early, but we needed something to do!

The tree is up and ready for the lights but we’ll save that for another day.  I cooked all morning and the bird is clean and ready for the stuffing.  We won’t have a big crowd for Thanksgiving – not like I did in my childhood days – but it should be nice anyway.

This afternoon, the last thing I brought up from the Christmas shelf in the basement was some “old” photos of visits with Santa from years gone by.  Looking at one photo, circa 1954, brought me immediate, overwhelming sadness and literally stopped me in my tracks.  Although I’m no longer crying every second, I still haven’t truly assimilated the fact that my brother, Charlie, is gone from this planet and that I will no longer be able to touch his hand or hear his voice.   Charlie always liked Christmas.  He worked hard to make it a special event for the people he loved.   His excitement celebrating Christmas brought a smile to my face.      As I looked at this special photo, I remembered some of the details of that day 57 years ago.  I remembered being excited and a bit nervous as we stood in line waiting for our turn to go up on the stage and stand next to Santa.  If my memory serves me correctly, it was taken in Macy’s Department Store and my mother brought us there for the photo.    My baby sister, Meg, had just burped up on Santa’s hand and I think it shook him up for a moment.  It was a time that Charlie and I were just about the same height and people often asked us if we were twins.

This will be my very first Christmas without my brother, Charlie.   I miss him.   I’ll always miss him.

Let theTours Begin!

Our tour guide, Frederica, greets our bus outside our first hotel, the Ludovis Palace at Via Ludovisi 43 in Rome.
As we exit the bus, we are told our bus driver from the Fiumicino airport in Rome, a pleasant, quiet fellow named, Donillo (spelling?), will be our driver for the duration of our 13 day tour. 
In the doorway and up a few steps , we enter the modest Ludovisi lobby, and are given a heavy, clunky key to room # 604.
The itinerary contained in our "Important Travel Documents" Bible states, "time to rest or start exploring the Eternal City" and "at 6pm, meet your Tour Director and traveling companions for a special welcome dinner".
Rather- and as an indication of things to come- before retiring to our room, we are informed that we'll be meeting in a small room off the first floor lobby at 4:30pm - a full hour and a half sooner than expected.
Bob & I enter the tiny, closet-sized elevator and make our way up to the 6th floor where we quickly locate our room- a small but adequate space containing a queen-sized bed and minuscule, built-in nightstands and little else. Interestingly we have a sliding glass door that opens onto a balcony of sorts.  I say of sorts because you have to stand on one of the two little chairs that are surrounding a small round cafe' table in order to look over the high wall and into the street below.  Nonetheless, I find our balcony quaint and amusing. My mind quickly categorizes it as something  "European" so I like it on that basis alone although I also like the sense of space and openness that it affords our tiny room.
The bathroom contains the usual equipment found in bathrooms throughout the US plus one common European addition, something known as a bidet.  The bidet looks a bit like the toilet bowl but its purpose, I was told, is to keep certain unmentionable body parts fresh and sparkling clean.         I've heard it that some travelers have mistaken it as basin for washing one's feet or, ugh! even worse,  have used the bowl to wash their recently purchased fresh fruit.         But, having been to Europe in 1966 and several times since, I feel very knowledgeable and well-informed regarding its' true purpose.  Therefore, on one occasion during our Globus tour I decide to give it a whirl.    Even though I'm "in the know" as to the bidet's reason for existence, I haven't the foggiest idea how to actually use it.   I looked around briefly but I was unable to locate any written instructions or visual diagrams..
But not to worry - I don't give up easily, life is short and since this may be my only chance to experience fresh and sparkling unmentionables, I make my mind up to give it my best shot.   I mean really how hard can it be?  ......to be continued later today                                                         

Leaving on a Jet Plane

So we left JFK at 5:40PM (or a little after) on Saturday evening, October 15th, 2011.  We flew Alitatlia and were not too pleased with the experience (really horrible food and the service that was even worse) although for me the most important thing is freedom from turbulence and landing safely so that was a big plus.  Bob went up to business class when, after several requests, the flight attendants did nothing to fix his malfunctioning video screen.  Eventually the flight attendant in business class noticed a new occupant and she promptly and  miraculously was able to repair Bob's malfunctioning video screen.   Once again I found him sitting next to me in economy.   The flight was over 8 hours and it seemed like an eternity to me although the flight back home was even longer (something to do with the way the winds are blowing).   On the way home it seemed like the air got so heavy you could hardly breath and half the people in the plane were up and roaming the isles looking for somewhere to go.   A very pleasant and talkative gentleman sat on the other side of me on the way home and it helped us pass the time a little more easily.   Seems he owns a winery out on Long Island so now we have a new place to visit sometime. 

We landed in Rome somewhere around 8AM Sunday (it is 6 hours later than in NY ).  I did not sleep a wink on the plane but it was morning in Italy and the sun was shinning.  I searched high and low for the Airport Chapel as it was Sunday and I would have loved to have been able to attend Mass, but the signs led me in circles and I finally had to give up my quest.  We waited for well over an hour for our Globus Tour bus to arrive at the airport and on our way to our first hotel, the Ludovisi Palace, we met a few people on our tour.  I felt a little "out of it" as I don't do well without sleep so I don't remember if we had any type of conversation.  It is a bit of a ride from the airport into center of Rome (40 minutes or more) but I enjoyed taking in the sights and was excited to realize that we had made it and were finally actually here in the "Eternal City".  This was Bob's first visit to Rome.  I had been to Rome once before in 1966. That time I was 21 and for 6 weeks I was traveling throughout Europe with three dear friends from Nursing School - Mary Jane, Eleanor and Sue.    In 1966 I threw a coin in the Trevi Fountain.  Legend says that if you throw a coin in the fountain, you will one day return again to Rome.  I guess it worked.   This time I saw no need to throw a coin in the fountain.
The 1st photo is the Ludovisi Palace, our hotel in Rome. The 2nd & 3rd photos are of course, the Colosseum.

Italy

Bob & I have been on a 2 week tour of Italy and it was a good experience.  I missed having Charlie & Ellen and Marty & Donna with us but we felt it was important for us to make this journey nonetheless and we are glad that we did.   The weather was great, the schedule was hectic, and the people we met were fantastic.   Being cooped up in a plane for 9 hours was the pits but as of yet they have not invented a magical travel machine. 
I have a lot of tales and a lot of photos (1100!) and I hope to share some of them with you but tonight is just my re-entry into my blog after such a long hiatus.   My energy was depleted and my heart was broken and needed to heal a little before I could speak again.

Love, Mary
PS. This is a photo of the Trevi Fountain which we visited our first day in Rome (Oct. 16, 2011)

A Prayer

The following prayer was shared by our Pastor:   
Dear God:
Take my life and let me live serenely for today.
Open my mind to happy thoughts.
Take away my ill-will towards others.
Make it possible for me to feel joy, love, and compassion; allow me to live again.
Help me to accept what is, to hold my tongue, to do my daily tasks, to let go with love.
Take away my worries about the future.

Make me realize that in your hands everything is provided, that I have no control over anything but myself, that today is precious and will soon be gone.
Help me to remember that all the hatred and pains that are directed at me is the hatred and pains that the other person is feeling toward themselves.
Thank you for your willingness to accept my burdens and lighten my load.
Amen.

More of What was it about Charlie?

Charlie loved unconditionally. 
He never judged me harshly.  In fact, I don't remember him ever really judging anyone harshly.    
He attempted to provide for everyone.
He had an interesting, intellectual, quiet sense of humor.
He loved to plan enjoyable trips and little excursions.
He liked martinis once in awhile.
He liked to have some sweets once in awhile even though he wasn't suppose to.  
He didn't like to change diapers and got me to do it for him.
His announced his days of tubing on the Battenkill were over. It was too shallow and he was tired of hitting his butt on the rocks.
He still liked to float in a tube in the pool.
He didn't make quick decisions.
He wanted to research every minute detail before purchasing an item.  Sometimes it took so long, he never got around to making the purchase.  
He was a good man, a truly good man.   

Talking to Ellen Makes Me Happy

I spoke to Ellen tonight.  We didn't have a really long conversation but it gave me great comfort.   I believe that Charlie - or as Ellen calls him, Chuck, - really loved Ellen very much and so I feel closer to him when I talk to her.   I also know and appreciate the fact that she really loved my brother and this is priceless gift as far as I am concerned.  No one can "buy or beg" love for a loved one so when someone gives this gift to a person who means the world to you, you want to give them a great, big hug.   Thanks Ellen, for loving my brother.  Consider yourself hugged.
Love, your Sister-in-law.

Strangely, this was on the Amazon Site when I went to shut down my Computer

"People who love each other are always connected by a very special String, made of love. Even though you can't see it with your eyes, you can feel it deep in your heart, and know that you are always connected to the ones you love." 
It is from a book called "The Invisible String"

So much in my heart

I have so much in my heart that I would like to express but interestingly, grief and sorrow drain you to the bone.  Loving other people is painful.   If you didn't care, it wouldn't matter. What is this thing called life, anyway?

A Message from my Friend

Grieving

From ancient times, mankind has mourned its losses. Every culture has its way of expressing grief. There is even evidence that animals express grief and mourn for those that are no longer with them. It is a sad fact that many people choose not to set aside time to mourn the death of a loved one. This is unfortunate because mourning is necessary for the mental health of the living and it is also a way of paying respect to the dead.

A death in the family leaves a void that cannot be filled. No one can ever take the place of this individual in the world. There must be time to mourn the fact that things will never be the same. One minute he was here and now he is gone. The human mind must be allowed to sit with this reality. Mourning is a necessary part of the human experience. If it is ignored, a general feeling of sadness may pervade the whole family.

Siblings that pass away have special meaning to us. They are often close in age to us and their death may bring to mind our own mortality. Life is no longer taken for granted. Someone from our generation has passed away. If the death is unexpected, there may be loose ends in the relationship that have not been dealt with. It is common that a death of a sibling brings upon a search for meaning. We may ask ourselves if we are accomplishing the goals that we have set for ourselves.

What was it about Charlie?

He was my big brother; just 2 years and one month my senior.

He has always been in my life; he has been there since I was born 66 year ago.  I have never been without him.

He shared so much with me.  We both had brown hair and brown eyes and we both looked more like Mommy.  He was my sidekick, my pal, my buddy.  When we were very little we shared a bedroom; our two beds with old-fashioned metal headboards were lined up against the walls on opposite sides of the room.    We got in trouble together.  I was told that I was the one that instigated the trouble and simply dragged Charlie along with me.   We shoved the cereal into the milk bottle and made a marvelous mess of the kitchen.   And, another day we got up on the bed, leaned out the second floor bedroom window and emptied the feathers out of a pillow onto the driveway two stories below.   Our mother almost died of fright as she quietly tipped toed up to us and grabbed us from behind before we fell out the window.  

He was so generous to me.  When I was a teenager I wanted a big, round, hard-plastic hairdryer.  It was the latest and greatest fad for a teenage girl.  Charlie started to earn money before I did and he went out and found exactly what I wanted and bought it for me.  He had a habit of trying to find out exactly what you liked and would go to any extreme to try and find it for you.  And when he found it, he would buy it for you.   Then, when he offered the gift to you, he would stand back quietly and watch intently as your face lit up in pure unadulterated excitement; the spontaneous reaction one expresses when a gift received is the one most desired.   He knew he hit the nail on the head and your pure joy made him happy.    

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

I can think of younger days when living for my life

Was everything a man could want to do
I could never see tomorrow, but I was never told about the sorrow

And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again

I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees
And misty memories of days gone by
We could never see tomorrow, no one said a word about the sorrow

And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again

Remembering My Brother

Remembering My Brother

We stood around Charlie’s bed in the Surgical ICU looking down at the face of this man we knew and loved so well for so many years.  We held onto his arms and legs, his face and shoulders, even his knees and toes.  It was as if we were desperately trying to hold him to this earth.  Somewhere deep inside me I

thought if we held on tight enough he wouldn’t leave us.  One thing I knew for sure was that not one of us was ready to lose this guy.  This certainly was no ordinary man.  The earth would not be the same without him.

Charles A. Fries, Jr. was the first born of his generation.   He was the first grandchild born to Joseph & Elizabeth Fries on the Fries side of the family as well as the first grandchild born to TJ & Margaret O’Donnell on the O’Donnell side.  As such he was greeted with much jubilation.  My father, Charles A.

Fries, Sr. jumped for joy and almost hit the ceiling, when he first laid eyes on his beautiful newborn son.   

Prophetically, he was an easy, calm and peaceful baby and he was lovingly oiled each and every day during his infancy.  

Charlie was ever the obedient son.  When I was a teenager myself, two years his junior, I watched him in amazement as he did what he was told and even more than what he was told without ever complaining.    He accidently dropped a glass jar of instant coffee and it smashed into a thousand pieces.  He was reprimanded but rather than yell back or defend himself, he went into the house and got the broom, cleaned up the mess, quietly continued to carry the groceries up the steep stairway into our house. When he was done, without any explanation he walked a great distance to the grocery store and using his own money replaced the jar of Instant coffee.

 My entire life was graced by Charlie’s presence; I am lucky enough to have known Charlie for over 66 years.   I could share hours and volumes of stories from all these years together as siblings, but today I will simply touch on a few.

In an effort to be concise, I looked for some words to help me to describe my brother.

The first word to come to mind is generous.  Charlie was generous to a fault; he tried to give everyone exactly what they wanted.   He would search high and low for that hard to find item, he would research and investigate from every single angle and when he presented you with the one thing your heart most desired, he would smile sheepishly as you opened your gift and reacted with utter surprise and pure joy.

Charlie was creative and playful.  As a child, Charlie imagined and created ingenious playlands in our backyard in the East New York section of Brooklyn.  One time I attempted to compete with a playland of my own, but all the kids in the neighborhood flocked to Charlie’s wonderland instead of mine.   I finally

conceded, and Charlie smiled gently when I gave in and become his assistant.   I couldn’t top the master.   Then there were those times that Charlie and another kid in our neighborhood named Kurt, produced and directed elaborate shows in the backyard garage.   

Charlie also organized the rest of us kids in our endeavors to build an in-ground pool in the dirt behind our house.  It seemed we dug halfway to China but the massive muddy puddle just wouldn’t hold water.  

We built boats and houses and even our own backyard toilet.  Charlie was the architect and the quiet, unassuming chief engineer.    And in spite of his mild-mannered ways, we all responded promptly and with precision when the alarm was sounded by Charlie, the Fire Chief of 10 Engine 10.

As he got older on several occasions Charlie spoke to me about his dream of one day creating an amusement park when he reached retirement age.   He never lost his creative, playful ways.   If it wasn’t for all the pain- in- the- neck logistics, I’m sure he could have created the best Amusement Park in all of NY State. 

 In a way he was always creating amusement parks, always wanting to share fun and games with children.   Christmas lights transformed his Gun Lane Home into a magical cottage at the North Pole where even Santa came to visit personally on Christmas Eve.   He loved sharing the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, the trains and quaint little village and gifts that crowded around the bottom of the tree.    No matter how chaotic it got, Charlie truly seemed to enjoy the pandemonium of all the Santa festivities with his children, grandkids and grand nieces and nephews.   Christmas in heaven should be very special this year.

Another word that comes to mind when I think of my brother is “humor”.   Charlie had his own unique, intelligent brand of humor.  He could be really hysterical without being the least bit raunchy or boisterous.  And, he never, ever put anyone down.  He was way too kind for that and people were always more important to him than a laugh or two.    At our mother’s 80th birthday celebration, Charlie

stood up to say a few words in her honor and he began by saying, “I met my mother at an early age”.

Charlie was recently made the Chaplain at his local American Legion.  He was truly honored by this appointment but shared with me -with a bit of humor- that he was wondering when exactly he had gotten ordained.   He expressed some concerns about his ability to meet the requirements, but knowing Charlie

as I do, I was certain they couldn’t have picked a better guy.   Still his humor shone through when got up to offer an opening prayer and started off by asking if the parking spot marked with the C meant it was reserved for the Chaplain.    I’m sorry I never got to see him perform his duties at the Legion.

When Charlie met Ellen he transformed into a guy named Chuck.   I find it difficult to call Charlie, Chuck because he has always been Charlie to me but sometimes I would get caught up in the moment and call him Chuck.  It was obvious he liked being Chuck.

Charlie was a happy guy.  

He was filled with love. 

His love overflowed onto everyone. 

He loved unconditionally and without reservation. 

He was not pompous or showy. 

He never said a bad word about anyone.

He was a relatively quiet man.  He was a gentle man. He wasn’t boastful or conceited or unkind. 

He was a wise man, a rational man, a thoughtful man.

He was very much in control of his emotions, except possibly when someone cut him off.

And even then, he didn’t act foolish or stupid.  Can you imagine, he simply pulled the driver over, wagged his finger at her as  

he reprimanded her sternly for cutting him off.

Some might say that in spite of his laid back nature, but I say precisely because of his laid back nature he

was a marvelous police officer reaching the rank of Police Captain on the NYPD.

He was never trigger happy, his gun remained in the holster as he used his peaceful, calm nature to

diffuse anger, comfort the distraught and calm the aggressor.

He forgave instantaneously and never held a grudge.  

He loved people and they loved him back. 

If there is a heaven and I hope there is I can assure you without doubt or hesitation that as I speak this good man is there already

I would like to conclude with the words that Chuck shared with his wife Ellen on July 16, 2011 less than 2 weeks before his death. 

Dear Ellen, Know that I’ll love you forever….

Even though it is hard for me to describe how much you mean to me,

Know that I love you more than any man has loved a woman before

Know that I love you with all my heart….

Your smile, your touch, your caring nature…

Everything that combine to make you a one- of- a- kind person,

A once-in-a-lifetime love,

Know that I’ll love you forever…

Because the best part of my life began the moment I fell in love with you.

Love, Chuck